Kaze Hikaru, Vol. 5

By Taeko Watanabe
Viz, 208 pp.
Rating: Teen

In Manga: Sixty Years of Japanese Comics, author Paul Gravett argues that female mangaka from Riyoko Ikeda to CLAMP have often used “the fluidity of gender boundaries and forbidden love” to “address issues of deep importance to their readers.” Taeko Watanabe is no exception to the rule, employing cross-dressing and shonen-ai elements to tell a story depicting the “pressures and pleasures of individuals living life in their own way and, for better or worse, not always as society expects.”

Kaze Hikaru begins in 1863, a period of immense political and social upheaval in Japan. Sei Tominaga lives a sheltered existence under the watchful eye of her father and older brother. Local rabble-rousers accuse the Tominagas of harboring spies at the medical clinic they operate and burn it to the ground, leaving Sei homeless and orphaned. Determined to avenge her family, Sei disguises herself as a boy, adopts the name Kamiya Seizaburo, and joins the Mibu-Roshi, a ragtag band of ronin who are fiercely loyal to the Tokugawa Shogunate. Sei finds a mentor in the slightly older Okita Soji*, an accomplished swordsman who acts as a kind of den mother for new recruits. He accidentally discovers Sei’s identity, agreeing to keep her secret if she can demonstrate her worth as bushi, or an honorable warrior.

No samurai saga would be complete without its share of swordplay, covert raids, and political intrigue, and Kaze Hikaru boasts plenty of sharply executed action scenes. But it’s in the everyday moments that Watanabe’s artistry really shines. We see the Mibu-Roshi recruits train, squabble, drink, gamble, and abuse their power with innkeepers and merchants. Much of the humor in Kaze Hikaru stems from Sei’s attempts to fit in with her fellow soldiers by proving her worth as a man—no mean feat, given her small size, feminine appearance, and cultivated upbringing. (This is one of the few cross-dressing stories I can remember where characters routinely ask the question on readers’ minds: “Aren’t you a little too pretty to be a guy?” Not surprisingly, some of the men desire Sei as an exceptionally handsome boy, further confusing our protagonist.) Sei’s greatest challenge, however, is concealing her deep love for Okita as both a mentor and a man. She wants Okita to respect her as a warrior, yet fears that her gender-bending transgression may ultimately make it impossible for him to reciprocate her feelings. It’s a classic shojo predicament—think of Lady Oscar and her manservant Andre—that simultaneously reveals Sei’s vulnerability and resolve.

What makes Kaze Hikaru so compelling is the way in which Watanabe appropriates a very tired story—samurai seeks revenge in a time of social and political turbulence—and infuses it with a fresh, feminine sensibility. I might call it Satsuma Gishiden for Girls, but I think that downplays Watanabe’s achievement. She’s created an action-filled drama in the vein of The Rose of Versailles or They Were Eleven but transplanted the setting from the relatively safe, romanticized worlds of the French Revolution and outer space to a period in Japanese history in which the male-identified virtues of courage, discipline, and patriotism dominated public discourse. She may not have intended it as a bold political statement, but Watanabe has done something truly extraordinary: she’s given girls the freedom to project themselves into Japan’s past without gender constraints. American artists looking to connect with female readers would do well to read Kaze Hikaru for inspiration—there’s a great graphic novel to be written about a cross-dressing Minuteman or Union solider, and Sei would make a terrific prototype for its spunky heroine.

* Okita Soji, like many of the other characters in the series, is based on a real historical figure who served with the Mibu-Roshi.

Volume 5 is available now; volume 6 will be released in August. To read a short excerpt from Kaze Hikaru, click here. FlashPlayer 7 is required to view the sample.

Yurara, Vol. 1

By Chika Shiomi
Viz, 200 pp.
Rating: Teen

Judging by the sheer number of series exploring the trials and tribulations of teenagers who see dead people, one wonders why Japanese high schools don’t have clubs for folks blessed with this ability. Yurara Tsukinowa could certainly benefit from the camaraderie of such an organization. Since childhood, her supernatural skills have caused her nothing but humiliation at the hands of her classmates: how do you explain that you’ve just spotted the spirit of a child who died a terrifying death and are weeping in sympathy? What do you tell the teacher when an angry ghost has ensconced itself in your assigned seat and won’t leave? Thankfully, Yurara’s high school class just so happens to have two other mediums: Mei Tendo and Yako Hoshino, both of whom can see—and, unlike Yurara, exorcise—ghosts. Better still, Mei and Yako are two of the most admired boys in Yurara’s class (read: OMG, they’re soooooooo cute!!!!!), and both seem to take a keen interest in the once-invisible outcast.

Early in the story, Yurara discovers that she’s not as helpless as she imagines. It seems that meeting other mediums has unleashed her inner demon—literally. Yurara is protected by a guardian spirit that seizes control of her body whenever she’s in danger, transforming Yurara into a gorgeous, tough-talking teen who vanquishes spirits with a mixture of magic, empathy, and gutsiness. Not surprisingly, Mei and Yako are intrigued by Yurara’s bad-ass persona, creating one of the more unusual love triangles (or is that squares?) in the pages of Shojo Beat.

While Yurara’s premise isn’t particularly novel, I found it a nice bit of wish fulfilment: who wouldn’t want the power to transform into a more competent, attractive version of themselves when the occasion warranted? I also found the male characters appealing, if familiar, types. The seemingly aloof Yako demonstrates genuine vulnerability in the final chapter of volume one, while Mei’s aggressive flirting and himbo antics camouflage a vengeful anger. My only quibble with the series is Yurara herself. Most of the time she’s a classic good girl: timid, polite, mildly fearful of boys (especially of the species Pulchrum Puer Scelestus). It’s only when she channels her guardian spirit that she becomes a truly interesting character. Perhaps Chika Shiomi is spoofing the kind of inept heroines found in magical girl manga like Fushigi Yuugi, or perhaps she’s planning to integrate the two personalities in a future volume of Yurara. Either way, I found Yurara to be a guilty pleasure, and will definitely seek out future volumes.

This review is based on a complimentary copy provided by the publisher. Volume 1 of Yurara arrives in stores in June. A preview is available in the May issue of Shojo Beat.