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Mugen no Juunin (Blade of the Immortal Anime Adaptation, 2008) – An Exercise in Patience

I'll start by saying that finishing 13 episodes in two years isn't just an accomplishment; it's a test of sheer survival. If you ever want to measure mental resilience, forget psychological tests — just sit someone down with this anime and watch the results.

The story is so generic it feels like it was churned out by an automatic samurai plot generator. You've got the feudal Japan setting, a protagonist with godlike abilities who knows no weaknesses (except, perhaps, testing the limits of our patience), and a plot that seems to think ... it's taking us somewhere... but the GPS clearly broke halfway through.

The so-called moral message at the end, where the characters reflect on life and mortality, is the narrative equivalent of being served an empty plate for dessert. You expect something substantial, maybe even satisfying, but instead, you're left with the chef smugly whispering, “The real depth was inside you all along!”

And then there's the soundtrack—if you can even call it that. It feels like someone hit shuffle on a playlist of generic action anime music, ensuring that no scene had the right tone. The fight scenes? Oh, I had high hopes, but instead, I got a spectacle of clunky, poorly choreographed slow motion. Our protagonist moves like he left his joints at home and forgot to stretch beforehand.

Now, to those of you who genuinely enjoy this adaptation: you're incredible. Not in a good way, though — more like the type of people who find joy in standing in endless lines at the DMV or waiting three hours at the registry office for a simple document. Sure, the protagonist starts the story trapped, but let's be honest — the only ones truly imprisoned here are the viewers, waiting in vain for something — anything—that makes sense.

In the end, "Blade of the Immortal" isn't just bad — it's inspirational. No, really. It's a stark reminder that even the most painfully mediocre works can somehow find funding. And if someone out there believed in this, then maybe, just maybe, your wildest dreams aren't so far out of reach. After all, if this got made, what's stopping you?

Museum - One of the Best Mystery Manga I’ve Ever Read!

Stories about serial killers in fiction are often portrayed graphically, especially when the murders follow a more artistic pattern. Museum: The Serial Killer is Laughing in the Rain is one such example and seems like something that would appeal to all kinds of readers, especially those who enjoy this kind of approach.

At the beginning of Museum, we are introduced to a strange murder in which a woman is killed by starving dogs. In the vomit of one of the dogs, a note is found stating that her sentence was to become dog food, revealing to ... the police that this was likely a meticulously planned death.

One of the police officers involved in the investigation is Hisashi Sawamura, who was one of the first to point out something unusual in the case — some kind of “vigilantism.” As more murders occur, the situation becomes increasingly alarming, but the tension reaches its peak when Sawamura discovers that, due to the connection between the murders, his wife and son are in danger.

During the first volume, we are presented with the initial stages of the investigation, while the murders occur at a rapid pace —heightening the story’s sense of urgency and leaving you eager to know what happens next.

In Museum, the sense of realism is striking, and this becomes evident as more bizarre cases unfold. Meanwhile, Sawamura desperately tries to solve the crimes and uncover the identity of the perpetrator. This realism is reflected in scenes like when one of the victims is caught masturbating or when a murder victim’s body is discovered because a couple stumbled upon it while looking for a hidden spot to have sex. These situations are written in a mundane manner — a method the author uses to heighten the overall impact while adding realism to the work.

Museum successfully creates an atmosphere of suspense. Once Sawamura realizes that his family’s lives are at stake, his desperation becomes palpable, driving him to increasingly irrational actions. From the very beginning, it’s clear that he is not a detached or cold officer, as he is reprimanded early in the investigation for jumping to conclusions. However, when things become personal, his rationality almost entirely vanishes.

This portrayal of Sawamura’s personality aligns well with the fact that his wife left him due to his excessive focus on work. Flashbacks that torment his mind and a conversation with a friend of his wife during the investigation make it clear that his obsession with his profession caused a breakdown in his family life. This becomes even more evident when we consider that the killer frequently uses family ties as a basis for choosing the punishments for each victim, effectively establishing the parallels that the story seeks to highlight.

The concept of punishment in the story is particularly compelling, as it demonstrates that the killer has clear motivations. As we delve deeper into the volumes, the villain’s ideology becomes increasingly apparent.

At first glance, the villain might come across as just another poorly developed psychopath, failing to inspire the confidence needed to follow the rest of the story. However, the concept presented is intriguing, despite not being entirely original — the idea of murders as works of art. The well-crafted examples succeed in convincing the reader of this artistic perspective, making it feel plausible.

Visually, the manga does an excellent job of portraying a more realistic tone, focusing on raw facial and bodily expressions during discussions and conversations. This realism contrasts effectively with the absurdity of the murders, making them feel believable. At the same time, the author incorporates an eerie element by depicting the killer in a frog mask, establishing a sense of strangeness amidst it all. In the second volume, we also learn why the killer wears a specific type of outfit and the frog mask, while Sawamura takes increasingly risky actions, both personally and professionally.

Scenes focusing on the killer’s appearance generate the necessary level of fear and unease, which is further emphasized in the depiction of the gory murders. In fact, the portrayal of the victims’ bodies strongly conveys the idea that they were killed by a deranged murderer.

The story looks like Se7en in a way and is packed with intrigue, mysteries and mind games, as Sawamura must resist and fight if he truly wants to save his family. The trauma stemming from Sawamura’s choices is ever-present, from the beginning to the very end, showing that we must truly live life one day at a time and that yesterday will (definitely) not be the same as today.

The Garden of Words - A Strong Manga Adaptation

The Garden of Words is a film by Makoto Shinkai, and like many of his anime movies, it has been adapted into a manga.

The story revolves around a high school student named Takao Akizuki who often skips classes to work on his hobby — shoemaking. He dreams of turning this passion into a full-time career. One day, Takao visits a park and encounters a woman named Yukari Yukino — a mysterious figure whom, by fate, he meets again at the same place during rainy days. As they continue to meet, they gradually get to know each other ... and eventually fall in love. Shinkai uses Takao's motivation (using the plot device of shoes) to drive his meetings with Yukino throughout the chapters, leading to the revelation that Yukino is actually his teacher, which explains why Takao has been skipping classes.

Additional scenes were added in the manga to further explore the characters' backgrounds. This expansion makes sense as an adaptation of a nearly 50-minute film that is packed with detail — so much so that it benefits from this extra exploration.

The characters are memorable and easy to recognize, despite there being relatively few of them (the manga has 7 chapters, corresponding to a 50-minute anime). Each character has their own responsibilities and challenges to overcome. Although Takao and Yukino have their differences, the story emphasizes the power of love as its main focus, conveying the message Shinkai wants to share. We also see how they help each other move forward in life, facing struggles that can arise at any age.

The art is delightful, especially considering it’s a manga adaptation. If you're familiar with reading manga, it may seem typical, but I must give it extra points for quality. The details make all the difference — the postures, the speech bubbles, the protagonists' expressions, and so on.

Overall, the manga is enjoyable, and you will likely appreciate it. You may find yourself falling in love with the story, if not at the beginning, then by the end, and you'll probably end up rooting for the characters.
While I think the ending could be more cohesive, particularly in tying up certain aspects of Yukino’s story, I understand that Makoto Shinkai has a distinctive way of concluding his narratives.

Cats of the Louvre - Something Magical in the Louvre

Taiyou Matsumoto is known for his artistic creativity and his Magnum Opus, Sunny. While exploring other works by the author, I came across this masterpiece that references the Louvre Museum and its paintings.

In this story, Matsumoto transports us to a charming world where the cats that inhabit the museum come to life, revealing a plot filled with symbolism and mystery. The manga uniquely blends fantasy with realism, exploring the relationship between art, memory, and existence. Each page is a work of art in itself, with illustrations that capture the grandeur and mysticism of the Louvre.

The characters, ... both human and feline, are deeply complex, and Matsumoto uses their interactions to explore philosophical and emotional themes. The narrative is both melancholic and hopeful, creating a dreamlike atmosphere that captivates the reader from beginning to end.

Matsumoto masterfully creates a Disney-like animated aura for the cats, giving them a dual appearance—both in their animal form and in their "human" form. This personification of the felines is done in a believable and sustainable way throughout the story.

Cats of the Louvre is more than just a tribute to the famous museum; it is a meditation on the nature of art and time, on how we connect with the past, and on the search for meaning in an ever-changing world. It is an essential read for any manga fan and for those who appreciate the power of art in all its forms.

Monster - An Overrated Award-Winning Story

First of all, I want to say that I understand Tenma, our protagonist. He is a renowned surgeon who moved from Japan to Germany, and at the beginning of the story, he has a stable dream job with a beautiful woman by his side — the dream of many men. However, neither our protagonist nor the author managed to evoke in the reader what was intended: the reason for Tenma's transformation from an innocent and naive man (the so-called "nice guy" or "white knight") into someone willing to kill if necessary (... even though he never does).

With this introduction alone, ... one can perceive the duality of the theme intended to be explored — a doctor who saves lives but is willing to take lives. Very well, it's a complex theme that could have allowed the author's imagination to soar, but based on what is shown in the manga, it is never executed as it should be. The story begins with a doctor hearing from his wife that some lives are worth more than others, showcasing the corruption within his hospital and the corporate world, which comes across more as Urasawa's personal opinion than a subplot meant to drive the main story. This leads me to ask: Does our protagonist need 162 chapters to understand his ex-wife's point? Does anyone think this makes sense?!

The manga uses all its subplots for Urasawa to express his political opinions in many scenarios, in the post-World War II era, after the Berlin Wall was brought down. In the second volume of the VizBig version (or volumes 3 and 4 of the original volumes), a group of neo-Nazis is portrayed as far-right, even though they have nothing to do with the right. It's unclear whether this is a biased opinion of Urasawa's editor, Urasawa himself, or the publisher through which I read the volumes, but to say this is, at the very least, intellectually dishonest and absurd.

As for Johan, my criticism is that if we assume we are in a world where we can create a second Adolf Hitler, even better than the first, with more power at his disposal, then why don't we? The answer is simple: because he is not sufficiently developed. When you create someone to be evil, he will be evil, even to yourself. The point is that Johan is genuinely evil — just not enough. Johan is someone who had the potential to be as evil, if not more so, than Majin Buu (from Dragon Ball Z). Now, that's someone who is evil, bad, cruel, and malevolent — he is the embodiment of evil. But Urasawa prefers to force us to buy volumes of manga only to find out that Johan doesn't even die. Urasawa creates suspense throughout all the volumes, only for nothing to happen. It's like watching all the MCU movies up to Endgame, only to discover that Tony Stark doesn't have the Infinity Stones in the last second and doesn't snap his fingers. If there are no consequences for his actions, how can Johan be evil? It becomes a circular argument with no critical foundation.

The most interesting character is Anna (or Nina) because of all her development, from when we first meet her (a brilliant young woman in college) to her acceptance of all the trauma from her childhood with Johan. Tenma is too kind, and his character only evolves due to an undeserved but given motivation: someone must investigate the murders occurring, even though this investigation could (or could not) be conducted by the surgeon who operated on Johan, instead of by the police investigator, Lunge, who is stripped of all his stardom and merit — not just as an investigator but as a key character in the story. He is always one step behind Tenma, even though the protagonist doesn't deserve it at all.

All the supporting characters that appear do not serve to move the story forward. The police officers guarding Johan when he is still a child have no motivation to be there. The hospital owner only exists to criticize the protagonist and then die. The other doctors don't operate on patients because the protagonist has been given the ultimate power to make that decision. The gardener of Tenma's ex-wife exists only to be a simp. The editor who publishes the twins' articles exists only to get drunk and then die. The prostitute who has to take care of her friend's children is there only to scream for help. The soldier who lives on his farm with a child he is forced to care for exists only to pass on a moral lesson to himself (pure schizophrenia). Every place Tenma passes through forces you, as the reader, to receive free moral lessons and see how good Tenma is (no wonder I called him a "white knight"). Tenma could be an immensely complex character with incredible development and a captivating motivation, capable of bringing others along with him, which would be advantageous considering all the dangers he faces and death threats. But no, Tenma is just someone who is there for the sake of being there, a good person who likes to help people because he has nothing better to do with his life. Once again, there are no consequences for his actions, unlike other characters who, in a certain way, have a developmental arc, like Dieter. Dieter is a child who was raised with (implicit) violence and sees Tenma as the embodiment of hope. He is someone with a development arc and is a crucial piece in the story Urasawa wants to tell. Unfortunately, he is underutilized somewhat until the end.

Urasawa may be a brilliant author in many of his works, and no one can take that away from him (the manga "Master Keaton" is a masterpiece), but the question that arises is whether we should place a work like "Monster" at the top of the greatest mangas of all time when it definitely isn't. There are better mangas than "Monster" in many aspects: plot, subplot, character development, etc. "Monster" is just a hype manga. It serves to say that Urasawa is brilliant, Urasawa is a top mangaka of all time, "Monster" sold X copies worldwide — those kinds of things. It's funny how Urasawa criticizes the corporate world and then competes in that very corporate world with other mangaka who dedicate their lives to manga. Life really doesn't give us what we want; it gives us what we deserve.

P.S. - Read other manga that were serialized in "Big Comic Original" and you'll understand my point when I say that Monster is a hype manga.

P.S 2 - I read the VizBig vols years ago, now I'm re-reading the Portuguese Version (same version, only the language changes). I maybe edit this review later after I complete reading them all.

Utsukushii Inu - "References, References Everywhere"

"Utsukushii Inu" is a manga that addresses themes of love, loneliness and the complex relationship between a human and a puppy, providing a sensitive and touching narrative. The story revolves around a relationship that explores the depth of connection between beings, highlighting the beauty and pain that can coexist.
The protagonist, who faces a period of loneliness, despair and extramarital relationships with his brother's girlfriend (cheating), finds solace in a dog. This relationship becomes a way to escape the difficulties of life and human relationships, which can often be complicated and painful. The puppy, with its loyalty and unconditional love, represents ... a haven and a faithful friend.
As the narrative develops, we are led to reflect on the dynamics of love and acceptance. The relationship between the human and the female dog becomes a mirror of the protagonist's insecurities and weaknesses. The manga does not hesitate to address moments of sadness and joy, showing how love can be a balm for emotional wounds.

The Impact on You (as a Reader)
One of the main themes of the work is the search for love and acceptance. Through the relationship between the protagonist and the cub, the manga explores how creatures, regardless of whether they are human or animal, can provide comfort and understanding in difficult times. Furthermore, the title suggests a reflection on the beauty that can be found in the vulnerability and fragility of relationships.

In Summary
"Utsukushii Inu" is a story that, although it deals with themes of loneliness and sadness, also celebrates the beauty of the connections we form throughout life. Through a touching narrative and engaging art, the story manages to resonate deeply with readers, inviting them to reflect on love and acceptance. It is a recommended read for those who appreciate emotional stories that explore the essence of human beings and their bond with animals.
People who say that the relationship between the protagonist and the puppy is romantic are missing the author's point. The point is that we can be accepted, as humans, by different animals. If you have a turtle, a parrot, a rabbit, or whatever the animal is at home, you can be accepted by it and vice versa, that's why we call these animals domestic, even though some are not, but the point is that we are domesticating them at home. Like it or not, from the moment you have an animal at home, you have a relationship with it. In the context of the story, the protagonist is rejected by his girlfriend during the stages of his teenage life, which is why he is accepted by the puppy. The protagonist realizes that his girlfriend has more in common with the dog because she is a female dog than because she is human (female humans don't have four breasts but female dogs do, or more).

Extra Points (the References)
This manga is full of references, with the most basic ones like "The first rule of the fight club is you must fight" referring to the book and film Fight Club and the situation the protagonist finds himself in, where he must fight to survive.
In the second chapter, when the protagonist is with his girlfriend on a school field, she says "This will be our secret base", alluding to the song "Secret Base ～君がくれたもの～" by ZONE, referring not to just because of the name "secret base" but also because in the context of the conversation between the characters, they talk about that being the best memory between them, where they can dream about the future and have great hopes for life, themes that are mentioned (in the chorus) of the music.
The cover of the second volume and the first panel of the first chapter show half of a dog's face on the protagonist's cell phone cover, which is an allusion to the dramatic theme that is the central theme of the manga.

Blade of the Immortal - A Protagonist without flaws

Blade of the Immortal is a manga that stands out for its unique premise, yet it falters in many aspects, particularly in its characterization and presentation. While the story is set in the Edo period of Japan, this historical backdrop often feels underdeveloped. To label this manga merely as a product of its time is a disservice to its potential. A well-crafted samurai manga not only provides a thrilling narrative but also immerses the reader in a vivid and engaging world. It should highlight the historical context, allowing readers to grasp the intricacies of the period, including ... the weapons, social structures, and cultural nuances that define it. For instance, aside from the brief appearance of a kusarigama in the prelude, the weaponry remains vague. We know that the protagonist wields a sword, but the lack of detail leaves a void in the reader’s understanding.
What truly distinguishes Blade of the Immortal from the countless other samurai mangas? The answer isn’t straightforward, as the series grapples with many narrative and thematic issues. One of the primary concerns is the quality of translation, which significantly impacts the reader's experience. Many Western editions suffer from translation problems that obscure the original intent of the dialogue and character development. Furthermore, the Western practice of reversing the panels — contrary to traditional manga reading order — adds an additional layer of confusion that detracts from the storytelling. For a medium that relies heavily on visual storytelling, these alterations will dilute the impact of the artwork and narrative flow, for sure.

The characters in Blade of the Immortal possess complex nuances, but accessing those depths requires an immense amount of patience. Readers must sift through layers of dialogue and interactions to uncover the motivations and personalities of each character. Unfortunately, the emotional connections between Manji, the protagonist, and those around him often feel insignificant and lacking in depth. This emotional detachment can be traced back to the protagonist's unique trait — his immortality. The fact that Manji can die and be resurrected diminishes the stakes of his interactions. When a character can simply return to life, the weight of their struggles and relationships is rendered almost meaningless.
Manji’s quest is driven by the curse that binds him: "This immortality will not go away until I kill 1,000 evil men." While this premise presents a tantalizing goal, it also introduces a significant flaw in his character arc. It raises an important question: does it matter how many enemies he defeats if the very nature of his existence is one of invulnerability?! The sheer existence of his immortality feels like an overpowering advantage that undercuts the tension of the narrative.

Moreover, Manji’s reflections on purpose further complicate his character. In the first chapter, he states, "A person cannot live without objectives, control, vengeance, or atonement," suggesting that he lacks any of these vital motivations. A compelling protagonist should have clear and relatable goals and this is a hallmark of successful works in the genre, such as Vagabond or Lone Wolf and Cub. In those stories, the motivations of their protagonists are well-defined and resonate with the reader — Musashi's philosophical exploration or Ogami Itto's relentless pursuit of vengeance create compelling narratives. In contrast, Manji feels like a vessel for the narrative rather than an engaging character with a purpose. If he himself questions his motivations, how can the reader remain invested in his journey?
This lack of clarity creates a disconnect, making it challenging for readers to root for Manji. The absence of a clear moral compass or motivation leads to questions about his actions: how can we discern whether he is a hero or a villain? This ambiguity can leave readers feeling trapped in a narrative that lacks direction and emotional investment. Instead of being captivated by the story, they may feel compelled to read out of obligation rather than genuine interest.

Another critical aspect to consider is the mishandling of licensing for Blade of the Immortal in the West. The confusion surrounding the publication has resulted in mirrored panels that detract from the reading experience. Manga is a visual medium that relies on a specific layout and flow, and disrupting this flow can hinder the reader's immersion. Additionally, Western editions often feature altered content that does not align with the original work, leading to discrepancies that can alienate readers familiar with the source material. As a reader who enjoys raw manga, I find these changes to be not only frustrating but also an affront to the artistry of the original creation.
Look at the mess with the licenses for the West in this manga. In addition to the panels all being reflected (which in itself ruins the experience of reading a manga, a work that comes from Japan), they also do the incredible disservice of making versions of volumes that do not exist in the original conception of the work. As a reader of raw manga in Japanese, this is considered a crime.
I read the Brazilian edition which is not like that, fortunately it is like the Japanese version, but the colors are not saturated enough, making the colors not visible well. In addition to being an incredibly complicated work to read (and to collect all the volumes), it is also full of graphical problems. What is this for?
In my experience reading the Brazilian edition, I found that it adheres more closely to the original Japanese version, which is a relief. However, it is not without its flaws; the colors in the Brazilian edition are not saturated enough, resulting in a less vibrant presentation that fails to do justice to the artwork. This is especially disappointing for a manga that relies heavily on its visuals to convey mood and atmosphere.

Ultimately, Blade of the Immortal is a complex work that faces challenges not only in its narrative structure but also in its presentation. The reading experience can often feel arduous and frustrating due to its numerous graphical and translation issues. While the concept has the potential to be engaging and profound, the execution leaves much to be desired. One cannot help but wonder what this story could have achieved if it had been presented with more clarity and depth.

The First Slam Dunk is a film that serves as a model for making animation in cinema. A complete masterpiece!

To understand the context of this film, we need to know that the story comes from the manga and anime Slam Dunk, created in the 90s by master Takehiko Inoue. The story of the manga tells the story of a young man with red hair named Sakuragi who was rejected by 50 girls until he met a girl who likes basketball. From there, Sakuragi's character develops, starting from someone who had never heard of basketball until he became one of the best on his school team. ... The character is highly based on the player Dennis Rodman in his invasive style and fiery personality. All the characters on the court are based on famous NBA players from the 90s such as Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Patrick Ewing, Kevin Johnson and Reggie Miller, among many others.

This film, The First Slam Dunk, is about the last game in the manga's story, where master and director Takehiko Inoue brilliantly managed to make it so that any viewer doesn't need to have any background on the story to know what the game is. For those who have read the manga, it is a masterpiece, for those who haven't read anything, it is a brilliant animation about a basketball game, animated magnificently, mixing 2D and 3D animation. Only this time, the protagonist is not Sakuragi but Ryota Miyagi, because Takehiko Inoue made a one-shot about Miyagi a few years before submitting the Slam Dunk manga to Shueisha called "Piercing". This story is shown through flashbacks in the film, giving a whole tragic background to the character. Since this story was not shown in the original manga or anime, it was the icing on the cake that the master puts in the film. The flashbacks are not cheesy, much less gratuitously thrown into the film. Quite the opposite, as a viewer, you want to know what happened and why Miyagi is so passionate about the sport of basketball. You want to know why he made a promise years ago and why he is Number 1 (a reference made in the film). You want to know who the mysterious woman is who appears in the trailer and later in the film, watching the game. You want to know the pain the character went through to give his all in the game. You want to have as much empathy as possible because you want the Shohoku team to win. The flashbacks serve to enhance dramatic moments on the court and not just to give us standard information.
Regarding the game itself, the sound effects are incredible; it feels like we are actually inside a closed room, watching an NBA game. All the sounds of the ball, the sliding of the sneakers on the court, the sounds of the basketball hoops, the audience, all in perfect harmony. Once again, the master Takehiko Inoue shows, through the film, his ardent passion for basketball. In an absurd transition from the pages of manga to the director's chair, the filmmaker does a masterful job regarding the visual compositions of a game and how to insert the audience in real-time into the basketball plays.

Inoue takes advantage of the high production value to transpose his beautiful work with a sense of movement in his layouts to a media where there are no constraints, capturing the game with great versatility and diversity, whether in more dynamic movements of running and feints on the court, in a panoramic view of a play and camera angles from the characters' point of view or the ground to emphasize the gravity of a dunk and especially the delirious outcome of the game.

The lessons we learn from the film are also almost infinite, both in the game itself and in the film's production. What leads Master Inoue to make a film about a work he has already finished? Could this be a sign of his other works? The truth is that Slam Dunk moved an entire generation, both inside and outside Japan. There are scholarships in Japan for players to have an opportunity to go and play in the NBA in the United States. There is a book about it that tells the story of all the players who have done this and who currently play in professional leagues.

I watched the entire film with a silly smile like a basketball fan, in pure satisfaction with Inoue's care with trash talk, psychological games, classic plays with his back to the basket or in transition à la Showtime Lakers, and several other characteristics that make basketball a beautiful sport. There is so much passion in this project for the way the game is played, how it feels, and how artistic it is that it is unbelievable, with the biggest highlight being the way Hanamichi Sakuragi is an infectious Dennis Rodman on the court, including a sequence that mirrors a famous play by the power forward who did everything to win as a team. In the end, the dramatic investment with the characters is so great and the euphoria with the capture of the game is so masterful that I found myself vibrating and cheering as if I were watching an NBA finals game, with a game-winner at the last second that would leave any viewer in delirium. I forgot I was watching a movie and could only breathe to say:
"Phew, what a game that was!"

P.S - I watched this movie like 3x times and I cannot stop. Gonna watch it again in cinema today :D

Real - Wheelchair of the Wicked

Real is an extremely underrated manga by Takehiko Inoue, the master in their craft. It began serialization in 1999, together with the author's masterpiece, Vagabond, and currently has 15 volumes (at the date of this review).

The manga presents the story of three young people (Tomomi Nomiya; Kiyoharu Togawa and Hisanobu Takahashi) whose lives are intertwined by basketball, drama and immeasurable tragedy.

Nomiya is a boy who loves basketball but drops out of school after getting involved in a serious accident; Togawa is a wheelchair user who also loves the sport, an extremely competitive person but who still has fears and regrets ... about his life, and Hisanobu is a not-so-nice guy, captain of the basketball team at the same school he attends. Nomiya was part of it, but suddenly his life is completely transformed due to a certain calamity.

In the plot, we will see how the three boys relate to sport – all the love for the game and training – and how they live (seeking to overcome themselves) even under the aegis of despair and the imponderable.

Real is – at first glance – a generic manga like any other, in which we will see characters who love what they practice and who have their lives connected to it, seeking to improve themselves and trying to become the best of all. However, there is something clear and precious because it will not only deal with basketball itself, it will deal with wheelchair basketball and the way society and the players themselves see it. More than that, it will show us how people deal with real heartbreaking problems and try to accept and overcome events and their limitations.

This first volume is an introduction to the story and – although carrying out an analysis of it alone is not very fruitful – it already lays the foundations of a narrative that tends to be touching, sad and even terrifying for some, with the characters involved by the tragedy and the drama emerging at every moment. The plot begins, for example, with Nomiya out of school, after a motorcycle accident that left a girl who was with him paraplegic. With the world at his back, he will try to live with the anguish of what he has done and the traumas arising from it, while at the same time, he will need to find a place in the world.

Although he has the characteristic of being tough and cool, he is not unlike any other person who flirts with misfortune and ends up feeling guilty for what happened to the girl. He is afraid of traffic due to the accident and, in the middle of everything, he still has to work to survive. And it is in this context that his initial lifeline is basketball, or rather the encounter with a great player in the sport, Kiyoharu Togawa, a young man who, sitting in his wheelchair, manages to play much better than Nomiya.

Although he gets into several fights during the volume (one of which, at the end of the first volume is quite intense), basketball and the encounter with Togawa make Tomomi manage to survive, even though the fears and traumas remain, even though his personality stays present.

The introduction that this volume gives us is some of Togawa's history as well. Togawa is a young man who had one of his legs amputated, in the past, due to illness and has been using a wheelchair for a long time, having found salvation in wheelchair basketball.

Not only that, basketball becomes so important that he wants more than just playing, more than just having fun, he wants to win and he wants to be the best. In other words, he is a character who comes ready-made, with all his baggage from the past tragedy, now seeking to go further. In the meantime, he even uses his drama for his benefit (I can't say more because of the spoiler).

His big dilemma is precisely not being with people who also want to win. We soon discover that he left the wheelchair basketball team he was part of because his teammates just wanted to have fun and were happy even after a loss. One of the most striking scenes is exactly this, with Togawa hearing from one of his companions that they shouldn't care so much because nothing would change in their lives since they were wheelchair users. This is an emblematic moment, as it opposes Togawa's thinking, who wanted more and more, despite his physical limitations.
Despite everything, we see in Togawa still traces of the things that happened to him. In particular, he finds it difficult to accept help, thinking that it interferes with the lives of other people with whom he lives.

We couldn't stop talking about the last figure of the plot's triad, Hisanobu Takahashi. And the best definition of him is a person who is hateful, bad, lazy, treating others badly, etc, etc. Typical bad boy. But there is a turn in the story: after stealing a bicycle, he ends up being run over and becomes paraplegic.

If at the beginning of the plot, the great drama is about Nomiya, from the middle to the end, Takahashi is the star of the tragedy that takes over.
We will see him in a regrettable situation, unimaginable until then, having to deal with something and things that greatly affect his psychology.

And Real is basically that, an exacerbated drama that affects the characters at the same time that the basketball game is their soul, the strength necessary for them to fight. Despite his hurts and limitations, Togawa will be there playing for fun (and for money) despite being the cause of an accident, Nomiya will be fighting to get things going and so on.

Although it is a story originally intended for the Japanese public, Real brings a universal image of how we often see people with disabilities, with pity, as incapable and so on. A clear case, in this sense, occurs when Togawa goes to play basketball at certain times and everyone thinks he is poor, taking it easy on him because he is a wheelchair user. The move is right there, as we see the boy in a very athletic way and better than several players without any disabilities.

And perhaps therein lies the great point of the manga.
It makes us think about ourselves, think about how we see paraplegic people and how we would react in a similar situation. By presenting several people who have learned or are learning to deal with a certain condition, the story puts us in an impasse situation, which can make us feel sad about the situations shown and empathize with the characters at the same time that it can make us be scared of that.

Real inserts a little finger in the wound. It makes us reason about things that we try to forget most of the time, that we are not used to seeing in the manga, and that is one of the great qualities of this work.

Finally, remember what I said earlier: this story has a great introduction that smoothes the rough edges of the story. Even so, it is clear right away that Real is a work that speaks deeply – it touches on essential and uncomfortable points – and the whole development of characters seems to show us that the intensity of things tends to increase.

Real is one of those titles that are almost essential for comic book readers those that make us think about life, despair, happiness, fear and most importantly, not judging people just because they are different from us. We need to have empathy and help people because, in their minds, they are fighting a gigantic war to survive.

The Ghost in the Shell - A Story about the Current Reality

"Technology has become what we are experiencing."

Throughout the history of Japanese animation, we had some examples of works that managed to leave the niche of anime fans, reaching a prominent place in pop cultures, such as Studio Ghibli, Akira or Dragon Ball, marked by vivid animation techniques and realistic narratives.
The Ghost in the Shell, more specifically its 1995 adaptation, is part of these productions graced by the western audience, even inspiring the Wachowski brothers to make "The Matrix". The manga that originated the feature film, even if it wasn't so well known, is ... the subject of reading by fans of its adaptation.

Written and illustrated by Masamune Shirow, the story follows Major Motoko Kusanagi, an android leader of a cyber counter-terrorism group. Set in a typical cyberpunk scenario, dominated by large corporations and inhabited by people who connect to cyberspace through cables inserted into the back of their heads, the work is certainly one of the most striking of this subgenre of science fiction, which was made popular through the books of William Gibson. (mainly Neuromancer) and other authors. Throughout the 352 pages of the manga, we follow this team fighting cases of cyber terrorism, many of which appear to be linked to a figure known as the Puppet Master.

The reason why Shirow's manga never achieved the popularity of its film adaptation is quite evident from the very first pages. The reader is immediately taken by an immense amount of information, with speech bubbles that fill the frames in such a way that this becomes a slower reading. The problem with this is that the plot quickly becomes very confusing to the point that we need to filter what impacts the plot development. The Ghost in the Shell is certainly not an easy read and requires a lot of concentration from the reader. This doesn't mean, however, that we are facing a bad story or anything like that. The mangaka's script explores this fascinating cyberpunk universe in-depth, clearly drawing on concepts from authors such as William Gibson and Philip K. Dick and imprinting his own philosophical and sociological vision on each page. At first, the great villains are the corporations that have infiltrated society in such a way that the government has become such a puppet, something that is made clear by the front pages. Major Kusanagi works as the portrait of freedom, the punk figure of cyberpunk, the element that isn't ruled in this dystopian future and that often acts spontaneously, standing out from everything around it.

The art, also by Shirow, perfectly symbolizes this through the protagonist's facial expressions. Despite being an android, she can be clearly defined by the emotions she clearly shows on her face. From a simple laugh to a punch in the face of a politician, we identify with his most rebellious stance, which, in itself, brings “colour” to the story. Unfortunately, Masamune ends up losing our immersion numerous times by bringing us pages full of visual information, which, together with the concepts introduced in the lines, make the reading even more confusing, to the point that the readers are obligated to reread certain pages to understand what is happening.

Interestingly, some of these confusing pages are beautiful, but usually only when they portray continuous action. At this point, we automatically stop reading just to appreciate the line, which dispenses with the pasteurization we are used to in current comics (whether eastern or western). That said, each character can be easily recognized by their appearance, which is very different from the others. We are talking about a very characteristic art of the 1990s when it comes to manga and there is no way not to see the similarities with other works, such as the classic Evangelion.

The colours, which are generally present at the beginning of each chapter, reinforce the visual identity of this world, often relying on shades of blue and grey, in addition to the use of red to denote violence, appearing in certain frames. Sometimes, the excess of colours also harms our reading, guaranteeing one more element for our eyes to get used to – reading black and white pages is considerably more fluid.
Fortunately, it's not something that gets in the way of reading too much, especially when we've gotten used to the concepts introduced halfway through the manga.
As much as it is not an easy read and it falls short of the 1995 anime adaptation, Masamune Shirow's work certainly deserves to be read by lovers of good old cyberpunk. With its evident value marked by the philosophical and sociological vision of its author, with clear mentions of other works of the genre, The Ghost in the Shell manages to capture the attention of its reader quickly and, even with the constant immersion breaks, provided by the confusing narrative, we managed to feel close to its protagonist, who stands out in this dystopian future, which is not that far from our reality.