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Akkun to Kanojo is quite an uncomfortable show and not in the way you'd want a comedy to be. This short-length series is intended to be a silly comedy with a simple, high-concept premise (like, for instance, Fudanshi Koukou Seikatsu's "what if a straight guy liked yaoi xD"). However, I’d argue that Akkun to Kanojo’s absolutely goofy premise ("what if a guy treated his girlfriend like shit but actually loves her LOL!") misfires this time. This premise makes what would otherwise be a bland comedy much worse, though it is certainly also brought down by its other creepy and problematic characters.

Essentially, Akkun to Kanojo centres ... on three different couples and their clashing personalities, which generates the supposed humor of the show. The first couple consists of the eponymous Akkun and his girlfriend Non. Akkun behaves like a "tsundere" in front of Non and shuns her in person, though internally he is completely obsessed with her. This shunning takes the form of verbal abuse, wherein Akkun will tell Non to shut up, call her ugly or trash, or say things like he never wants to see her again. Great guy. Non on the other hand is totally fine with this as she claims to know of his affection deep down. Akkun’s obsession is somehow a bit worse than his shunning as it is often downright creepy; his room, pillow, and sheets are plastered with her photos, he often stalks her after telling her to piss off, and he apparently not only records her but even wiretaps her so he can hear her voice. Big time yikes. Once in a while, Akkun breaks free and is able to show his affection to Non, which I suppose is how their relationship is sustained, but it is always followed by some silly counter effect (he kisses her, then has to distance himself from her for some days). The main gimmick of their relationship is that despite how much he appears to turn Non away, he always has some crazy way to show his true affection in return. Unfortunately, the show seems to think that all of Akkun’s silly antics are funny when they’re really just stale, creepy, and abusive. That and Akkun is just a straight-up unredeeming psychopathic asshole.

The second pairing consists of their friend Matsuo and Akkun’s sister Chiho. Matsuo likes to come over to the siblings' house uninvited, stay for as long as he wants, and play dating sims on their TV. The only person who seems to care (i.e. have some actual sense) is Chiho who always has a retort for him. However, she’s easily flustered and he easily turns whatever she says back on her and continues on. Though Matsuo is also somewhat of a weird creep, this is the more acceptable pair as there is some sort of development between them, adding something more than just stale comedy (this is all relative of course; outside of this series, their shtick is just perfunctory, auto-pilot humour).

Lastly is the morally questionable pairing of Irie and Kubomura. Irie is some random friend of the others who is openly thirsty for her laid-back teacher Kubomura. She often proclaims she loves him and schemes to get close to him, such as wilfully flunking her subjects so he can teach her make-up classes (which she doesn’t even listen to). While I would normally be okay with the teacher (as he mostly acts like a normal person), he doesn’t really try hard to reject Irie and treats her with mild apathy, which is also problematic as it just enables her behaviour. Moreover, I’m not really sure what is supposed to be comedic about them. What’s wrong with this pairing is not really the ethics but more that they feel completely tacked on to the show in general. The first two pairs are more close-knit and interact with each other, while these two tend to be more separate from the rest and their scenes tend to occur outside the sphere of the others. They don’t really add anything to the series and don’t have a point for being in the series, aside from adding what the show deems as “humorous”.

In general, these pairings are all basically gimmicks: Akkun always does something over-the-top for his infatuation, Chiho is always bickering with Matsuo, and Irie tries to woos Kubomura. These gimmicks aren’t really that funny in the first place however: Akkun is an abusive prick, Matsuo is a weirdo, and Irie is trying to get her teacher arrested. Beyond that, none of the actual jokes have a good comedic foundation, nor are they that varied or distinct, so it feels like the same joke is repeated again and again. The show circulates between these couples, repeating the same “gags” continuously until the end, which miraculously makes this short anime a total drag to watch.

I continued watching Akkun to Kanojo to see if there was anything worth taking away. How did Akkun and Non get together? Why do they have a relationship like this? Is there anything redeemable about them? While these questions are partially answered, its rather weak and done in the exaggerated nature of the show. Akkun is a dick and is never given a reason for his behaviour towards Non. He doesn’t seem to feel regret over his words either, which would have made his ridiculous character somewhat more believable and human. The most resistance he receives from others is “Should you really be saying that to her?” but irritatingly enough the show tends to dodge any real answer from him aside from “You don’t understand bro, I actually love her.” His obsession on the other hand is always exaggerated and played on for comedy, which makes it hard to see why he actually likes Non as a person, if at all. Non on the other hand is a total sponge who just takes everything that Akkun says because she knows he actually likes her. Her reason for liking him is the typical anime reason (“He’s a nice guy”). Comically enough, her explanation for how she started liking him is unintentionally laughable as she lists mundane reasons such as "He waited for someone" or "He moved a rock off a wide empty path so people wouldn’t trip" Seriously? What a freakin’ hero! I still don’t get why she actually likes him and since she doesn’t seem to have a deep connection with him, she could easily find someone that would treat her better (sis!). Honestly, she just reminds me of an abuse victim, which she basically is. None of their behavior is really convincing and I suppose it wouldn’t have to be if the show was actually amusing.

Somehow, this aimless series manages to pull off some sort of conflict for its finale but it's just really dumb. Of all the bile that comes out of Akkun’s mouth, this time he says "hate", and NOW this time Non gets offended because THAT’S THE ONE WORD HE CAN’T SAY. Blahblahblah resolution and all, but seriously how incredibly stupid is that?

There was at least one moment in the show where Akkun actually showed some consideration for Non and her feelings, but this one example really highlights what’s wrong with the show: it too often focuses on its unfunny gimmicks, which are made worse by their problematic implications. I would imagine defenders of the show would say that the point is that Akkun and Non are a match for each other, but the show never gives a reason to buy this conceit. Essentially, Akkun to Kanojo just romanticises abusive and toxic relationships.

(originally written in 2019)

Kurogane Communication is definitely a show that had an interesting premise, though it wasn’t able to skillfully follow up on it.

It follows Haruka—the last surviving human in the aftermath of a vague, catastrophic war—as she lives her days with her 5 robotic friends. The series can be divided into two narrative halves: the first, more episodic half which focuses either on a specific character or a certain dilemma per episode; and the second which focuses on a longer narrative arc. Though initially interesting in the beginning, the series never becomes very captivating or does much to hold one's interest. The main reasons for this are ... the lack of interesting characters, story, and substantial worldbuilding. The series sets itself in a somewhat slice of life, episodic rhythm, without a real overarching narrative. Due to this, when the second half introduces a new, focused narrative, it fits oddly with the first half and doesn't feel as if it is going towards a conclusive ending. In addition, some main issues lie with the way the series approaches certain aspects, which generally makes it feel off-putting as a whole. This can be attributed to the series' bare-minimum approach to worldbuilding.

First, Kurogane Communication has a very, very vague plot background which doesn't adequately explain what really happened in the war. Questions like "What parties were involved?" and "How were all the humans annihilated?" pop up, but are not answered. The show only explores this at the surface level. This is only becomes a concern as the characters repeat again and again how certain they are that everyone has been wiped out and that Haruka is irrefutably the last human left alive. This isn't really convincing however. For one, they are only living in a one city and they haven't explored outside of it, so how can they account for the entire world? Also, since Haruka was able to survive, why can't anyone else? It's not like her survival method was particularly complicated or unique (literally anyone could have survived the same way she did, like, she just got in a random safety pod). Every character seems to share this viewpoint of the world, even when they’re clearly presented with info that should disprove this. It doesn't really make sense why the characters should think like this. This could have simply been solved by actually addressing what happened in the war and how every human could have been annihilated. However, the series never tries to. This really wouldn't have been that much of an issue if the show didn't bring it up so much. (Really though, did someone press a "human delete" button or something?)

Secondly, the robots in this series are incredibly non-robotic. These robots cry, sweat, blush, get tired, and sleep. They even feel pain, have complex dilemmas, and are troubled by painful memories. It's all very... human. This only becomes a problem when the show starts to address its own definition of robots. While it's common for fiction to portray complex robots and deliberately blur the line between robot and human, Kurogane Communication never makes it clear what kind of robots we're dealing with, nor does it intend to focus on such themes (i.e. it is not trying to be that type of show). The series just introduces us to these human-like robots without much background and merely explains that the robots are "intelligent" and meant to serve humans, but this doesn't even come close to how they can be so human. This becomes a bigger issue when the series tries to raise various themes of living with robots and such, for instance, how lonely Haruka must feel. These attempts fall flat as it never truly feels like Haruka is surrounded by robots given how they act. Other times, superficial aspects are attached, such as the set of specific robotic rules that they must follow, but these merely feel tacked on to fulfill some narrative goal. Again, it would only be a minor annoyance if it wasn't for the show trying making it a central issue.

As a whole, these problems are due to the series' lack of exploration and worldbuilding. KC doesn't cover enough of its more interesting aspects, throwing in only in bits and pieces but not much beyond that. This is also what makes what the series decides to focus on a bit irritating.

Characters are somewhat more enjoyable, though they too are a mixed bag. Initially, the cast of characters are quite fun and interesting to follow, but as the series develops, they fit into certain molds that they don't grow out of. Spike becomes the series' worrywart, making him quite annoying and whiny; Trigger is initially decent comedy relief but his shenanigans get a bit tiresome; Reeves and Cleric don't get much exploration and aren't distinguished enough, so it feels they could have been merged into one character as they seem to serve the same role. Our main character Haruka's development isn't very interesting. More annoyingly, she's often used as a damsel in distress, as if the writers couldn't figure out what else to do with a female character. Angela, the series' badass, is probably the most fulfilling and entertaining character due to her deeper and continual development. Later characters bring the same sort of mix as the main cast; some are explored well, some shallowly, and others not at all.

Production-wise, the series is decent. I enjoyed the varying designs of the robots though the backgrounds and art were just perfunctory. While I enjoyed the opening and ending songs (I mean the OP is an underrated bop!), they are essentially love songs that don't really fit with the series' themes at all, although sections of the lyrical content can. The opening animation unfortunately gives away parts of the second half of the series, which takes away some of the surprise. Background music is perfunctory though pretty repetitive, as if there is only one track for each mood. Animation unfortunately is subpar, and action scenes suffer in particular and can be quite muddled in presentation.

KC overall needed more world-building and exploration of both characters and setting.

(originally written in 2018/2019)

*some spoilers*

Knowing that a story will revolve around a battle royale, I bet we’d at least expect something thrilling, entertaining, and action-packed, full of exhilarating clashes. We may even expect a bit of poignancy, as after all, by structure, not all fighters are meant to make it to the end. Sekirei is very much a battle royale manga that anticipates these expectations, but utterly fails to fulfill any of them. Instead, all that its delivers is cloying light-heartedness, muddled storytelling, and constant cop-outs making for a bland series with surprisingly low entertainment value.

We start the story when down on his luck loser (and typical harem ... milquetoast) Minato Sahashi miraculously meets Musubi. He unknowingly establishes a master-servant relationship with her and is subsequently embroiled in an oncoming battle royale in which over 100 "battle maidens" like Musubi will battle to the last until one pair remains. However, an Ashikabi can have more than one Sekirei, and soon Minato amasses a harem, emerging as a strong contender in the game.

The series certainly sets the stage up well for an exciting contest, and by hinting at bigger mysteries early on, the game is set to be an interesting one too. However, as Sekirei progresses, it becomes clear that the series will not deliver on its promises. By setting a story as a battle royale, one would clearly anticipate the eponymous clashes. While battles are abundant in this series, they are not very entertaining. The most common reason for this is due to most battles being one-sided clashes where the victors are already certain; somehow, Minato manages to gain some of the most powerful Sekirei on his side very early on in the story, and probably too early. Minato’s deck is so clearly stacked against others that the outcomes of battles are clear before they even start. It quite effectively kills surprise which is part of what makes battle manga fun and entertaining. Even so, when the battles manage to escape the trapping of predictability, they are still disappointing. Either the clashes end up becoming a volley of flashy powers before someone ultimately gets a last-minute power-up and wins, or the battle abruptly ends with an anticlimactic cop-out. This actually happens both times our heroes face off against a particularly powerful enemy team, which killed the genuine excitement that these battles were imbued with at the start.

We may also expect battle royales to be somewhat tragic or dark, depending on the specific circumstances that they are established in. With numerous Sekirei battling until one remains, the series clearly sets up rules wherein we expect tragic developments to occur (and at times the series explicitly forecasts that this will occur). However, Sekirei is much too light-hearted in nature that it tends to shy away from these moments as much as possible. Though that is not an inherent fault, when the series reaches points where tragedy should be unavoidable, it cop-outs and gives a cheap answer to the particular dilemma. This light-heartedness feeling that permeates throughout the manga is probably the biggest drawback Sekirei has towards crafting an exciting battle manga, as the series is much too afraid to veer beyond this silly-happy territory. That said, the series does at times entertain tragedy, but these moments are rather unsurprising, cliched, and often feel like cheap ways to evoke emotional moments, which the series thereafter mines upon for cloying sentimentality.

While the storytelling of the series is okay in the first half, it is very light. This makes for a more breezy read in the beginning, but one lacking in substance, which is expected to follow later. However when it comes time for explanations, the series begins its descent into incoherent nonsense. Most of the reveals are vague, muddled, or just not that necessary for the story. This is at its worst in the last few volumes of the main story, where what should be the climatic finale is instead a mess of convoluted babble and developments that are ultimately not interesting or actually important. Instead of the finale that was being built towards, the series abruptly shirks this direction in favour of a messy final battle with faceless enemies, making for a wholly disappointing and jarring conclusion. This is a shame given how much author Sakurako Gokurakuin built up various plot-lines and drummed up excitement for them, only to utterly fail on their delivery. This lack does not only apply to explanations however. For instance, one extremely disappointing plot-line of the series was the sister subplot, wherein Minato’s sister becomes involved in the battle, creating an interesting dynamic in the story. However, this subplot is poorly developed, stretched out, and ultimately ends with an unfulfilling cop-out. It seems like all Sekirei does is cop-out.

Sekirei does not have much to offer on the characters side of things either. Our main "hero" Minato is wimpy and unconfident but has a heart of gold (of course). He does undergo minor change (which is usually explicitly expressed by other characters), but he never becomes an interesting lead character and is often swept along by the plot throughout the series instead of taking an active role. Author Gokurakuin creates most other characters as if they are made in a factory assembly line: a single characteristic (usually comedic) is slapped onto a character design and they call it a day. As a result, most characters tend to be nothing more than walking traits without much depth (and given how stale the humour is, they get old fast). Nearly all the Sekirei are like this, and with so many of them, the amount of one-note personalities to contend with becomes tiring. It doesn’t help how the Sekirei become utterly devoted and dependant on their Ashikabi, which feels like it strips them of their character depth and decency by assigning nearly all of them the seedy characteristic of dependency. Rather it just feels like subservient wish fulfillment, but perhaps I was expecting too much from a harem series. This all extends to Minato’s team of Sekirei as well. On his team, Tsukiumi is probably the most entertaining character out of the bunch, and while she is a one-note tsundere relegated to the deprecating role of jealous housewife, she is at least entertaining. Furthermore, the attraction that some of them have to Minato is not very evident or believable, which again makes his over-powered team questionable. While there are some decent characters, they are few in number and are outside the main cast. Despite the hundreds of characters in this series, I can count on one hand the number of them which are defined by more than one trait.

Gokurakuin’s art is probably one of the few plus sides of this series. The character designs are well done, detailed, and varied, making the series at least pleasant to look at. While backgrounds are fine, they at times are relinquished to give way to the spectacle of battle. Unfortunately, Gokurakuin is less effective on depicting these flashy clashes. While there are some noteworthy moments in battle art-wise, they are other times just bland. This lacking is likely what makes part of the action not very engaging. This being an ecchi series, gratuitous nudity is to be found in nearly every chapter. To give a quite sleazy view, I often didn’t find Gokurakuin’s nudity to be very salacious, which is part of the attraction of an ecchi series.

I think the main issue here with Sekirei was that author Sakurako Gokurakuin was not really suited to depicting an action-packed battle manga; Gokurakuin feels more like an author who would make the super cheerful gakuen spin-off of a series rather than an action-packed one. They clearly wanted to depict this kind of manga, but couldn’t follow through. Instead, the focus on light-hearted, lovey-dovey shlock, as well as muddled storytelling and constant cop-outs, brought down whatever potential this series had.

(originally written in 2019)

It’s always nice too see how artists grow and improve through their multiple series. Be it with better writing, characters, storylines or different turns in genre, that feeling of progression is a delight that goes beyond just the work at hand. However, the opposite is possible and regression can often be disappointing, which speaks true of Seishi Kishimoto’s Blazer Drive. Coming off from the flawed yet somewhat fun 666 Satan, you’d expect one to learn and build on their shortcomings. Sadly, this does not happen with Blazer Drive, a shallow series that forsakes exploration for flashy battles, development for cool poses and evokes the well-worn ... phrase "style over substance".

Set in some unexplained future Tokyo, we follow Daichi, our grade A idiot protagonist and the poster-boy of Blazer Drive’s vanity. Shouting forced lines like “I don’t understand the complicated bits but I’m going to kick your ass!” in an attempt to sound cool only serves to portray him as moron (fittingly) as nothing remotely complicated was even said prior. His quest is very familiar to battle shounen readers: people have special fighting powers, Daichi has the most incredible latent power of them all, and his enemy is a shady organization. Though not very interesting overall, the story is made worse by pisspoor handling. Events tend to happen prematurely, as if the series’ wanted to skip to the “good bits” instead of letting things develop naturally, making this 9-volume tale feel very condensed. Other times, the series relies on pure happenstance to advance the plot, but this strips the tale of believability and simply put, is bad writing. Further rupturing whatever smoothness the plot has are the numerous elements added to the story that end up being completely irrelevant. A good example here is Shirou, the main friend-rival character who’s built-up quite prominently only to totally disappear from the story soon after his introduction without a given reason. Worse off, his brief reappearance later on has him abruptly introducing a new seemingly important subplot only to disappear again (the subplot is never mentioned again either). It’s likely that these extraneous elements are references to the Blazer Drive video game which had a story parallel to that of the manga, but the jarring handling of them in the manga makes it feel as if we’re only getting half the story. Despite the relative simplicity of the story, Blazer Drive attempts a very complex finale, but it misfires. The new twists and backstories lack foreshadowing and feel too spontaneous, only making the story more dense and messy. There’s little breathing room for these new ideas so they just end up being preposterous, convoluted and seem more like an attempt to make the story more than it is.

Story problems aside, there is a serious lack of worldbuilding in Blazer Drive almost to the point where it is non-existent. By the end, we know very little about the setting as there was no intent to invest the reader by exploring it, raising many questions which are sadly not answered. That’s not to say there is no exploration whatsoever. Blazer Drive’s weapon of choice, the Mystickers, are heavily explored in ways that can genuinely interest the reader. However there’s a catch: the exploration is incredibly one-sided. We get to know a lot about how Mystickers are used in battles and the like, but regarding their origin and development, there is next to nothing. A sliver of information is offered: “they came from another dimension” but this vague tidbit only crops up even more questions. How does such an enigmatic technology get so widespread that it even appears in convenience stores? How are they even made or replicated? Why is it that no one knows? It doesn’t make any sense given how widely used it is in the series. Blazer Drive makes it pretty clear that it doesn’t care for the why and only for the battles. After all, explaining how they work here is apparently enough, as whatever can boost its cool factor will garner Blazer Drive’s full attention. It seems to be mostly in vain however, for Blazer Drive’s beloved battles are often pretty dull, perhaps due to derivative action and lack of investment the reader has in the characters or world. In addition, they don’t feel very believable as our protagonists tend to win most of their battles (even against veteran fighters) despite being relatively new to fighting.

As you may have inferred, I didn’t enjoy Daichi very much and the same can be said about the rest of the characters. Our cast is chock full of one-note personalities, which wouldn’t necessarily be all that bad if the notes weren’t so stale. Aside from that, the series seems to find it necessary to maintain a tiring charade of base humour, such as talking animals, loli angst, perverted animals, comical narcissism, and yes, farting animals, which gets less and less funnier each time. It’s a shame that Blazer Drive focuses its funny bone here instead of its lesser seen and more successful situational humour. There are some decent characters however, like Misora and Kuroki, who, while retaining the aforementioned flaws, are less irritating than the others and shine in their own ways. Of course Kishimoto finds a way to corrupt them, like when Misora is telling another character to respect women only for Kishimoto to later give us a panty shot during her big moment. Gotta love it. On the villain's side, they tend to have a repetitive style of characterization which utilizes instant tragic backstories to remind you that they’re flawed and human, but I don’t usually find this method of characterization effective. Surprisingly, the main antagonist doesn’t even seem that bad and has a pretty admirable end goal, though arguably boring. However, to make us dislike him, he is made unrealistically evil and chock full of cartoon villainy, which all feels completely needless, as if Kishimoto couldn’t find a more believable way to make him a villain. What’s more laughable is the protagonists themselves seemed more disappointed in his goal than shocked, as if achieving his goal would no longer allow them to be cool. I like to believe that’s why. It’s more amusing that way (I have to create my own amusement to enjoy Blazer Drive).

What was quite unexpected for me was just how much Kishimoto rips-off his previous work, 666 Satan, in Blazer Drive. Not only is the plot and characters identical but even the problems 666 had are front and center here. Both Daichi and Jio have some incredible latent powers, Mystickers are O-Parts, Blazers are OPTs, Qilin Realm is Zenom Syndicate et cetera et cetera. There’s a superficial coat of paint to mask the similarities but it will be very obvious to anyone who’s read 666 how few “original” ideas are here. At least in 666 Satan the length of the manga gave the ideas more room to breath unlike the claustrophobic mess that is Blazer Drive. A worse offence than copying the story is the characters. Reused designs and carbon copy personalities is not even the thick of it as entire characters are ripped straight from 666. Take Kuroki for example, who is a complete rip of 666’s Kirin, visually, mentally and in their character role. It’s important to note that both characters cover their face with their hair as this is where the real kicker comes in. In both series a reveal is uncovered involving the reason why they cover their face, resulting in a twist on their characters. In short, they share the exact same type of plot twist only possible by their specific character design (Of course, Kirin’s twist has much more weight to it). It’s quite alarming how many similarities like this crop up in Blazer Drive, although everything it takes from 666 Satan comes out worse. It’s like a bad photocopy. I thought the similarities between Brynhildr and Elfen Lied were ridiculous but wow Blazer Drive really takes the cake.

Blazer Drive felt like it was trying too hard to become the next big thing by focusing on being slick and cool while turning its attention away from the elements that would have bolstered its foundation. In addition, Kishimoto goes beyond rehashing and clearly plagiarises his own work which is just lame. With little exploration of both its characters and setting and a heap of problems found in its storytelling, Blazer Drive, seemingly ignorant of its issues, charges on in a vain quest to prove how awesome it can be, but all I see is one bland and soulless poser.

If some authors carefully prepare and refine their stories before submission then Kazuma Kamachi must vomit his out in abundance and serve them as is. At least that is the impression I was given by Kantan na Enquete desu, a collection of short stories that Kamachi treats as his dumping ground for half-baked thoughts. Sure, a collection is bound to have its hit and misses but Enquete only seems capable of delivering disaster after disaster. The problem is that Kamachi isn’t actually interested in telling a story but rather relating a concept that he thought was novel or amusing. Though not an inherent failing either, ... the concept themselves are just vapid and sometimes poorly conveyed to the reader. As if that wasn’t enough, supporting aspects are especially grating and only serve to further sabotage the stories. As a whole, the stories end up becoming as bad as the sum of its parts, if not worse.

Even when the concepts have the potential to be interesting, they’re not successfully utilized. Either they’re shallowly explored, forsaken for banal humour, or they’re taken in a lame direction. Other times, it’s painfully transparent that the concept is the only real aspect to a story. For example, one story has a kidnapper interrogate a hostage, then when on break he is told by his coworker that he’s under a reverse stockholm syndrome (A.K.A Lima syndrome). The end. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Other times, the ideas are incredibly shallow, be it with otaku pandering (“What if computer viruses were moe!”) or tired juxtapositions (Ninjas meet Technology! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ!). There’s very little substance to these stories and it feels like the author is just trying to half-assedly tell you about some ‘cool’ or ‘amusing’ idea he came up with. For the less emaciated tales, the padding can be the downfall more than the actual idea behind the stories. Be it the characters, who with so little screentime become nothing more than tired archetypes, or the aimless dialogue which babbles on about waifus and big boobs, never getting to the point.

Despite the varying genres and tones of the stories, Kamachi still tends to get caught in a repetitive style of writing. Sometimes, he attempts a humorous style that is some kind of mix of whimsy and quirkiness, but it tries too hard to be funny and is jarring to read. Other times, stories are plagued with unintuitive and very unengaging info-dumps, whose sudden and bland presentation turns off the reader instead of reeling them in (at most it proves why ‘show, don’t tell’ is a great technique). Stories that should be diverse feel all too similar due to the ugly writing and repetitive techniques. Another major problem with Enquete is its humour and how incredibly unfunny it is. The bulk of the jokes are the same cliched ones that are done to death in most harem, ecchi, rom-coms. Sometimes the dialogue is geared to being kooky in an attempt to humour the audience, but it just trails off from the story, taking the reader’s enjoyment with it. Some stories themselves act as one big joke, but the punchlines they build up to are seemingly non-existent or don’t drum up much of a response.

Putting the ‘short’ in ‘short story’, each tale ends as quickly as it starts, acting as a blessing and a curse upon the reader: it’s nice when a bad story ends but insulting that Kamachi didn’t seem to flesh any of them out. Due to this, the 24 stories found here are painfully slight and often abrupt, which ends up being one of Enquete’s main problems. There’s just too little time to do just about anything well. Characters, settings and even the ideas—which Kamachi seems to treasure the most here—all come out undercooked, due to how little time is given to develop them. However, even with that said, there is one decent story to be found here: the final one, and not because it is the final one but because it manages to escape the trappings of its predecessors. Despite its short allocated time, it’s builds a somewhat interesting world, has an amusing moral, and is less mentally damaging than the rest. This goes to show that Kamachi is actually capable an author of writing a good tale, especially how it can still stick out after the preceding barrage of crap. Unfortunately for the novel as a whole, it’s a case of too little too late and this story is hardly able to redeem every failure that came before.

Encompassing the entire collection is a narrative that puts each tale into context; university students are watching a string of films and are asked to rank them in order of preference. There’s a tacit understanding that readers are to partake in the survey as well, which is a good way to engage them and it’s probably Enquete’s best idea (and was what attracted me in the first place). Kamachi however failed at making the stories good and diverse enough to rank. It soon becomes a contest at how bad each story is, something I found utterly futile and very boring to rank. Nevertheless, based on the rankings readers can pick one of four endings, each which leads to some explanation behind the stories. This neat idea however quickly degenerates with nonsensical and utterly silly developments that are just as much of a pain to read as the stories that came before. While you get some tidbits at what is going on, the big picture never fully comes together, though it’s not like this trash heap needed whatever explanation Kamachi was aiming for.

Reading Enquete is akin to being stuck in a one-sided conversation where your partner is endlessly bombarding you with bad jokes or boring anecdotes with vigorous enthusiasm when all you want to do is get the hell away. I feel harsh making that analogy (more towards the imaginary partner) but Enquete leaves me devoid of any sympathy. Even when Enquete can be good, something comes in to sabotage as if some kind of cosmic interference is preventing it from succeeding. The result is a collection of bareboned, inane shower thought stories and one of the worst reading experiences I’ve ever had.

Ningen Deshita is about a boy who gets his soul temporarily transplanted into a hamster. He is then cared for by some random girl he barely knows until he gets put back into his original body. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. This being a romance, it shouldn’t be hard to guess the story’s direction. Yet while very contrived, the story and characters end up rather innocuous when compared to the surrounding aspects of the manga which the author seemed to completely neglect.

In Ningen Deshita, there is a huge lack of reasoning for anything that happens. We don’t actually find out why exactly the boy, Kazusa, needs a soul transplant/substitute ... body at all, it’s just taken for granted that it has to happen. The assumed alternative of keeping his soul in limbo may seem like detached or heartless idea, but the asspull of a twist near the end completely renders the soul transplant futile. Perhaps a soul needs to be put in a body to survive or something, but if I have to make up my own ideas for how the story works, there’s a problem. Similarly, there is no reason why Manami is even chosen to look after Kazusa. While his parents at least have some sort of explanation (but not a clear or good one), not a word is said about why his close friends don’t look after him. Manami is the most far-fetched option they could have gone with. At the start of the series, they have very little connection and don’t even like each other. It’s hard to imagine Kazusa even agreeing to it. Manami does save him by ‘catching his soul’, however the story doesn’t even utilize this Pokémon master logic and settles for ‘no reason’ as its reason. Finally, there is the aforementioned twist at the end. Like I implied earlier, it feels like it was pulled out of thin air, solely as a means to make the story more tragic. Despite this, it actually ends up working due to the non-existent exploration of the setting and ideas.

Ningen Deshita is set two whole centuries in the future but it is completely identical to the present. Save for one single aspect, society, technology and the people went literally unchanged. There is no reason given for this. The author didn’t seem to realize that this was a problem. Societies would gradually change over the course of that many years and having just one different aspect with everything else remaining static is not very believable. This issue is addressed with a lazy narration that goes like “Well hey, nothing changed!” It feels that the story was only set in the future to make soul transplanting possible. Of course, soul transplanting itself is very vague, unexplored and only mentioned when necessary for the plot. Since its only reason is to make the story happen, it’s relegated to being a prop for the story, which by default makes the entire setting one too. It’s rather irritating to have a story set in the future when the author has no real interest in the setting in the first place. Why even set it in the future then? It’s just too distracting. It would have worked better as some alternate Earth, or with some more creativity and thought, a real-life setting with a real-life issue.

Despite all its problems Ningen Deshita has it can still be enjoyed due to how utterly harmless it all is. The aim of the manga is to present some cute relationship and it succeeds at doing so. It’s flaws can be overlooked by those just interested in the characters and their story. But how such a simple story still has such weak, flimsy writing and planning is just puzzling. Ningen Deshita simply asks you to overlook too much to enjoy it.

Also, apparently putting a human soul in a hamster can make them speak human language.
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*This review is more geared towards those already acquainted with the story of Kingdom Hearts*

Sometimes, an adaptation can stick closely to the source material and still end up pretty mediocre. The Kingdom Hearts novels unfortunately is one of those adaptations as their author, Tomoco Kanemaki, doesn't seem to be very good at her craft. As she weaves the tale together with flat writing and uninspired wording, she essentially creates one long Wikipedia synopsis. As a result, she turns Sora’s tale into a dull affair and the spirit of the series is lost in the monotony. It became clearer to me when I discovered that Kanemaki ... worked as a scenario writer for one of the games; she didn’t see this as her novel debut but as another day on the job.

Still, it is commendable that Kanemaki stuck closely to the original story, even if the transition of the aspects left them shallow in comparison. The themes of light vs darkness and friendship are intact and the little details towards level progression and enemy types are neat touches and may even evoke fond memories of the game. This transition is less forgiving with the characters however, who are more hollow in comparison. The events don’t stray too far from the original either, but simply taking the plot without the gameplay (a difficulty of adapting) causes the developments to be too closely linked together, something that Kanemaki doesn’t skilfully mend. As a result this leads to a very fast pace which encompasses the entire story and when it mixes in with the bland writing, the novels are simply at their worst.

Where the game aspects are concerned, the novels become a bit too faithful to the original. Kanemaki seemed to think it would be a good idea to include the random enemy encounters of the game, presumably to drive home the point that the world is in danger. Well, not only did reusing dialogue and describing rather uneventful battles overkill this already tedious idea but these moments are incredibly overused, repeatedly breaking up the story for valueless diversions. Without being interesting, or well written, these moments don’t add much to the story and instead drag it out. Alternatively, this can be seen as Kanemaki’s answer to slow down the pacing, but alas that’s like using a leech as a band-aid. In addition, some of the game’s scenarios don’t translate very well to prose (Wonderland’s evidence quest for instance). Even with a good writer these events probably wouldn’t be very interesting, so with Kanemaki behind them, the enjoyment level is turned down to mind-numbingly boring. She just doesn’t seem to be aware of what is exciting to read and what isn’t; what should be adapted and what shouldn’t (or altered at least), she just simply retells.

Like the manga adaptation, not all of the Disney worlds make it into the novels. It’s not that I expected the novels to be better with them but the three worlds that were omitted hurt the story in their exclusion. This is because Halloween Town, Atlantica & Olympus Coliseum (eek no Cloud!) all contain a Disney villain and cutting them out takes away half of the story’s antagonists. In turn, this makes the story feel stripped, gives the present antagonists a much weaker presence and doesn’t make them feel like a very convincing threat to Sora (and of course the continuity problems this will cause). Surprisingly bringing the best component to the novels is illustrator Shiro Amano, who also handles the manga adaptations. His illustrations are numerous and his colour works look great. As a minor complaint however, some illustrations originally drawn in color have been printed in greyscale, giving them a blurred and muddy look, though this is not too overbearing.

If you were wondering how the novel adaptation of Kingdom Hearts fared against the manga counterpart, they’re almost equal in enjoyment. While the manga is adapted by someone who seems more suited to adapting Katamari Damacy, the novels are written by an author who isn’t really skilled at writing. The novels are a more faithful take and could be seen as the better adaptation but even with the good it does, the omnipresent weak writing is always there to suck out the enjoyment. It’s too big of a detractor to make one want to read the novels as well as the many more she has written.

Kingdom Hearts could’ve been good as novel with a more capable writer behind it but with what’s here it feels like a lazy cash-in. There’s just no style in the writing and she doesn’t even try. That’s not to say that the novels are bad. The story is (nearly) the same as the original game but it’s really just a bland retelling without adding anything of value. There’s no additional insight in these novels and it’s absolutely missing the rich writing needed to make the characters and world come to life. Kanemaki is too weak an author to be capable of bringing that out and it’s rather disappointing to know that she handles all of the Kingdom Hearts novels (I hope she improves at least). To those who want to get into the series or are returning fans, just stick with the games or watch a playthrough. However, if you’re really dying to read the novels, just read a synopsis, the experience will be similar.

Upon the understanding that a film, book or television show will feature assassins as its fundamental aspect, it’s likely that the immediate set of expectations we receive from this falls along the imagery of thrill, excitement and aesthetics. Akuma no Riddle is very much a show that exhibits these types of expectations. It sets the stage for a high-school battle royale well enough by introducing 12 female assassins, each with their own desires, and one target, a girl striving to survive the oncoming ordeal. The assassins and target must all participate in Myoujou Academy’s elusive Black Class, where they’ll assume the guise of high-school students, ... and whoever is able to successfully kill the target may have their any wish granted. However, due to a twist of events, one assassin successfully defects to the target’s side, vowing to protect her at all costs. It is quite an exciting premise and definitely promises those characteristic expectations of assassins. Unfortunately, Akuma no Riddle falls short on the delivery of said expectations and is ultimately a weak series. That is not to say that it fails solely because of its lack of deliverance. Rather, the series’ shortcomings can be directly attributed to a much greater, fundamental flaw located right at its very core. That and one particular misfire that brings down all hopes of the show had of being redeemed.

The particular assassin that defects to the target’s (Haru Ichinose) side is Azuma Tokaku, the central character of Akuma no Riddle. We are affixed to her presence from the show’s very beginning and quickly learn that she is stoic, reserved, and not the most determined assassin out of the bunch. Her reason for defection is not initially made clear by the series though this is not a hindrance but a gateway for speculation that Tokaku has become subtlety attracted to Haru. Tokaku is very much the protagonist of the series though, due to her newfound predicament, she finds Haru, the series deuteragonist, in her company more often than not. Haru is a surprisingly cheery and optimistic girl for a girl of her position, and her grand desire is to achieve friendship with the assassins and graduate from the Black Class, not as enemies but as friends. It seems to be a vain goal but, we learn that through Haru’s past experiences, she has been shaped to think like this. The main characters don’t have the strongest or most convincing characterization they could but, it is done well enough to make them interesting to follow. What’s more interesting than their individual characteristics is their relationship. Tokaku and Haru share an inevitable bond that grows stronger with each assassination attempt, which is a pleasure to watch. It is probably one of the the series’ greatest strength. It’s not long before the series sets us free to discover the other 11 assassins and their motives. The quality of their characterization varies, but Akuma no Riddle sets out to define each and every assassin to their distinct character. However, the success of this greatly hindered by the great limitation of the series: its very own formula.

Harkening back to the rules of the Black Class, assassins must hand in an advance notice to Haru in order for their assassination to be considered valid. From there, they must successfully execute their assassination within a 48-hour limit. Failure upon doing so means expulsion from the Black Class. In retrospect this is where the series limits itself. This is not an apparent limitation but it’s how Akuma no Riddle handles this rule that causes the series to become restricted. From the start of the assassination game, the series decides to formally focus on usually one assassin and their assassination attempt per episode. This type of formula of focusing on a different character each episode is a familiar one, so it’s all up to the execution to make sure that it’s an effective episode with strong characterization and memorable moments. Akuma no Riddle fails to deliver here. With the conflict of the show’s premise (Tokaku protecting Haru from her assassination), the 48-hour time limit, and only one assassination attempt per assassin, it’s obvious that there can be only one outcome. For the sake of the show to continue, it should be no surprise that Haru and Tokaku are able to prevail over their opponents, resulting in the opposing assassin being disqualified, never to be seen at Black Class again. This type of formula can get tired fast and yet, Akuma no Riddle decides to let it dictate nearly the entire series. It gets old seeing the same thing twice, nevertheless the 8th time as well. By deciding to have this formula, the series allows itself to become entrapped in a web of predictability. It doesn’t matter what happens to the protagonists in each episode because you know what the outcome will be. Surprise is effectively killed, despite the series’ best attempts to shake it up now and then. It is a breathe of fresh air when the series does shake it up, but the problem is that the formula is still there when it really shouldn’t be. It’s probably the most roundabout & counterintuitive way to execute the series’ premise.

Predictability is not the formula’s sole crime however. A very important and much focused on aspect of this series is affected as well: characterization. Each episode has a focus character and the show wastes no time in its attempts to characterize them and flesh them out. However, with solely one episode to work on a character (who probably didn’t get a lot of spotlight because prior episodes focused on different characters) Akuma no Riddle’s attempts at characterization are ineffective and insubstantial. There’s just not enough time to develop these assassin-of-the-week characters who won’t be seen again and any attempts that are made are just shallow. Usually a good option for this one-episode-character trope is to have these characters leave an imprint on the main characters and have them develop instead. However, Akuma no Riddle has no desire to do this. It solely attempts to develop these side-characters who will ultimately have no significant outcome on the story. It is entirely futile and the series doesn’t do a particularly good job at making us care for these characters anymore than we did before, no matter how tragic the character is. It’s thanks to this formula of strictly focusing on side characters that the series forgets to focus on the more interesting aspects of the series, like Tokaku and Haru’s relationship. If Akuma no Riddle had focused more on their relationship, we generally would have gotten character development that mattered and watching it would’ve been more rewarding.

With surprise taken out and weak characterization in abundance, surely Akuma no Riddle should be able to soar with exciting, thrilling and aesthetic action. After all, the formula is not strict enough that it needs the action to subscribe to it. As I said earlier, Akuma no Riddle is not able to completely deliver upon these expectations. Assassinations are not as clever or exciting as one would expect. Most assassinations don’t have much effort put into them, they lack effectiveness and creativity, almost as if the assassins aren’t really trying to seriously kill Haru. Though this is unconvincingly addressed by the series later on, it doesn’t make it any more engaging. There’s a point where the series understandably breaks free from its formula, and surprisingly enough, it is almost able to redeem itself. The final three episodes are able to deliver thrilling revelations, truly exciting action, and well-built momentum for an engaging, albeit confusing, finale. However, it is what directly follows the finale that permanently sinks Akuma no Riddle. An epilogue that is meant to give closure to the series, while also attempting to please the viewer ends up becoming a complete misfire. It’s confounding in its own right, but as a direct cause of being an immediate follow-up to the climax, it becomes incredibly jarring and backwards. The finale sets up a definite ending, one that is understandable, and a good one for the series. The epilogue completely rewrites this climax, undermining it as well as everything else the series had built up prior. The bizarreness of this epilogue is outstanding that it’s almost surreal and its disparity with the rest of the series is too apparent.

Akuma no Riddle had all the pieces, but assembly led to mistakes that ultimately brought down the series. It is still has its enjoyable aspects however. Animation, while not incredibly impressive overall, conveys the fight scenes and action quite well. The soundtrack accompanies scenes well, and while nothing stands out, it fits into the background nicely. Character design does stand out thankfully and each assassin has a memorably distinct design, setting them apart from the rest. The OP "Soushou Innocence" is notable in delivering a fittingly moody & energetic tune that fits well with the opening animation. Regarding the EDs, Akuma no Riddle generously gives nearly every assassin their own song which can serve as further characterization as to who they are. For example, the 8th ED "Mayonaka no Toubou" is able to effectively exude the melancholic delusion of a character through its lyrics, tune, and visuals. The art for these EDs are in good quality as well, matching the characters nicely and further indirectly characterizing them. It’s a shame that the series was not able to deliver the same level of characterization with such conviction.

Even with Akuma no Riddle becoming a slave to its own formula, it can still be enjoyed. Tokaku and Haru’s relationship is pleasant to see (when it is actually focused on), the action is decent, reaching an all time high near the end, and some of the characters can still be entertaining (notably the ones given more prominence than others). However, its formula is its greatest enemy, bringing down the deliverance of expectations, characterization, as well as the effectiveness of its story. Along with a questionable epilogue, Akuma no Riddle is weakened and restricted from crafting the exciting, thrilling and aesthetic battle royale it wanted to be.

I’m sure that many of us, during our formative years, imagined ourselves to be protectors of justice, heroes with superpowers or just simply do-gooders. We may have even had ambitions to become such heroes with the simple goal of helping people. Mitama Kamishiro is no different. As a child she aspired to be a "crime avenger" (as she calls it) and spent her days protecting her seemingly only friend, Hana from whatever dangers came forth. Back in reality, as we grew older we most likely lost sight of these goals as we grew more accustomed with reality and understanding the world. Mitama Kamishiro has yet ... to go through this gradual realization.

At the young yet maturing age of 14, Kamishiro is not only still dead-set on becoming a "crime avenger", but she too easily indulges in her fantasies, such as believing the new mall that appeared in her hometown is the work of an insidious secret organization. While it would be pretty silly to think something like that at her age, she is not entirely wrong this time around. It’s just not the work of an insidious organization but a group of guardian deities, who are on their own quest to rekindle the faith humans have in them so that they won’t disappear. Despite initial resistance, Mitama agrees to serve the gods on their quest, under the presumption that she will be able to fulfill her childlike goal of upholding justice as some sort of hero. For a 14 year old, her logic and beliefs are still quite immature and she’s seemingly out of touch with reality, heck even young kids scoff at her dreams. With this being said, it’s not a great start when a manga presents you with a character with such a deluded psyche but as it turns out, Mitama’s character is the least of Haratama Kiyotama’s problems. Her character can be excused as juvenile as the bevy of problems that this manga contains overshadows her flaws.

Haratama Kiyotama (or the surprisingly appropriate English title, Oh God! Dear God!) is a present-day adventure that follows Mitama on her quest to fulfill her dream of helping people and upholding justice. At least that’s what it wanted to be about. By the end of the manga, there is no fulfilment or satisfaction delivered. Instead we are given nothing but a half-assed ending that doesn’t deliver any sort of closure. With that in mind, the entire construction of the story is disastrous, sparking wonder as to why the manga even aimed for such lengths, what the mangaka even had in mind, and with a more pitiless view, why it even exists.

Problems first arise with the initial meeting between Mitama & the gods. Not only is this presented in a very muddled manner, but we singlehandedly witness an incredibly cutthroat induction which completely betrays what the manga aims to accomplish. Might I inform you now, Haratama Kiyotama is intended to be a light-hearted comedy manga. Now, from the disorganized presentation, here is what I understood: the gods show Mitama that her friend, Hana, is in mortal danger, she can be saved if Mitama asks upon their help, but as a result, she will have to become a Shinto Priest and travel around the country with them. Apparently the gods (who can save this girl at any time) refuse to save Hana themselves, but instead use this situation as backhanded method to "employ" Mitama into their group. As if this isn’t enough, thereafter Mitama has overbearing tasks forced upon her, restricted of meals or freedom until she completes them. Furthermore, she is sent to do the gods’ work of rekindling humans’ faith without substantial support. As an end of chapter joke, Mitama remarks that she wants to quit after hearing of what she really has to do and in response, another God remarks "You might be able to quite when you die…" Wow, that’s grim. Mitama is a slave isn’t she. Let me remind you once again that Haratama Kiyotama is a light-hearted manga, you’re supposed to laugh this off, bat an eye to it, because this is all just silly fun. Right? The whole manga is presented in a cheery manner, telling us that it’s okay that Mitama is more or less enslaved for the rest of her life because she’s having a blast, which seems to be true. Yes, it should not be a surprise that silly old Mitama is somehow blind to the own injustice that was committed against her. Stellar.

The manga promises that Mitama will tackle problems that threaten justice and the wellbeing of people, requiring Mitama to find solutions and grow from these experiences. Even humble expectations may have been set too high as that’s not the case here. There are only two real cases in the manga that Mitama tackles and ultimately, they are utterly irrelevant to the greater good. One is a fickle love triangle, that is made more complicated by the idiocy of another god, and the other is fulfilling a shallow dream of an incredibly shallow woman. Mitama initially protests, after all this is not what she had in mind, yet she is forced to solve these problems in the end (guess why). Even upon fulfillment of the tasks, the gods don’t remark anything about rekindled faith or the like. Instead, they tell Mitama that she did a good job and subsequently force another mundane task upon her. Maybe I was wrong about it not being an "insidious organization". Not long after it starts, Haratama Kiyotama decides to end with no prior warning or anticipation. It pulls a villain out of thin air and delivers a superficial answer to Mitama’s dream. It’s almost as if even the mangaka decided to drop this series, seeing as how much of a mess it already was.

There is no saving grace from the characters either. As I examined earlier, Mitama has the mentality of a child and her character would’ve made more sense if she was a few years younger. Oh, but if that happened we wouldn’t get those vital panty-shots. The gods are essentially an assortment of caricatures and archetypes that never transcend their familiarities. They are given a familial hierarchy, akin to Ancient Greek Gods, but the most this delivers are sentiments of familiarity between them, which is solely played on for comedy. There are no complex familial relations, nor any doubt, regret or realization towards their putrid treatment of Mitami. There’s meager character development here and there, but it’s incredibly cliched and has been done since time immemorial. The most characterization is given to Mitama’s friend Hana, but as she only appears in the first two chapters, it’s quite a waste. On that note, it’s a bit confounding how when Mitama becomes a Shinto Priest, she immediately leaves her town, without saying goodbye to her friend, who she has lived together with since childhood. This just goes to show how lazily written and poorly-thought out the manga is as a whole. Why doesn’t Mitami have any qualms towards leaving her family behind? Why doesn’t she care about her poor treatment by the gods? These questions are never answered. Haratama Kiyotama doesn’t care to answer them. It probably doesn’t even realize that it has these problems. Ultimately nothing substantial happens throughout the entire manga, the cases don’t add up to anything, it’s not very exciting, it’s not very funny, there are no surprises, no breaks in convention and no real ambition. It just sucks. There’s utterly no worth to what happens in the manga, it just feels entirely useless.

Admittedly, it doesn’t hurt to read Haratama Kiyotama, after all it's only one volume long. You can see Mitami as just a silly character and not take her seriously like I did. The artwork is perfunctory yet it can still be enjoyed. There’s even a single good joke amongst all the other wasted attempts! However, there are better time-wasters than this aimless wreck of a manga that can’t even deliver the simple things it promises. I said earlier that the English title for this manga (Oh God! Dear God!) was appropriate. Can you see why?