Back to manga_toad's Profile manga_toad's Profile

"Chainsaw Man," or as I've lovingly dubbed it, "The Unholy Scripture of Heartfelt Gore and Unrequited Love," is nothing short of a revelation in the world of manga. It's as if someone took the concept of a shounen protagonist, handed them a chainsaw, and said, "Your heartbreak will now be powered by gasoline." This isn't just a story; it's an adrenaline-fueled, blood-spattered odyssey through the darker corners of the human (and devilish) condition, with a side of existential musings that you didn't know you needed until now.

At the heart of this beautifully chaotic symphony is Denji, a protagonist who redefines the term 'relatable.' Because who ... among us hasn't felt like a bit of a chainsaw-wielding maniac in the face of life's absurdities? Denji's journey from debt-ridden teenager to a devil hunter with a chainsaw for a head is more than just a series of action-packed battles; it's a deep dive into the essence of desire, the search for meaning, and the quest for a simple slice of happiness in a world that seems bent on denying it.

What makes "Chainsaw Man" climb its way into my top 5 is not just its unapologetic embrace of gore and the grotesque, but its raw, unfiltered exploration of emotions. This manga doesn't just wear its heart on its sleeve; it dissects it, examines the pieces, and then stitches it back together with chainsaw oil and a prayer. It's a testament to the power of storytelling that can take what seems like an absurd premise and turn it into a narrative so compelling, so deeply human, that you can't help but root for Denji and his eclectic crew of devil hunters.

The brilliance of "The Unholy Scripture of Heartfelt Gore and Unrequited Love" lies in its ability to balance the visceral thrill of its battles with the tender, often heartbreaking moments of its characters' lives. It's a masterclass in how to blend horror, action, and comedy with a level of emotional depth that catches you off guard. Just when you think you're in for another blood-soaked battle, it hits you with a moment so poignant, so utterly human, that you're left reeling.

In essence, "Chainsaw Man" is more than just a manga; it's a rollercoaster ride through the highs and lows of human experience, powered by the raw energy of a chainsaw engine. It's about finding beauty in the grotesque, hope in despair, and love in the most unexpected places. And if that involves slicing through a few devils along the way, then so be it. After all, isn't that just a metaphor for life's constant struggle to find meaning amidst the chaos? Welcome to "The Unholy Scripture of Heartfelt Gore and Unrequited Love," where every page is a testament to the indomitable human spirit, with just a tad more chainsaw action than you might have expected.

"Demon Slayer," or as I affectionately refer to it, "The Encyclopedia of Shounen Tropes: Demon Edition," does indeed feel like someone decided to play Shounen Bingo and ended up shouting "Bingo!" before the end of the first chapter. It's as if the manga sat down, made a checklist of every single shounen trope out there, and then proceeded to tick off each one with the determination of a protagonist facing their final boss battle.

Now, don't get me wrong, there's a certain charm to sticking to the classics. After all, tropes become tropes for a reason—they work. And "Demon Slayer" works... in the way a microwave ... meal satisfies your hunger. It's quick, it's easy, and you know exactly what you're getting: a wholesome serving of demons, swords, and the power of family and friendship with a side of spectacularly animated battles.

Our hero, Tanjiro, is the epitome of the shounen protagonist: kind-hearted, determined, and equipped with a tragic backstory that's as required in this genre as a sword is for a samurai. His quest to save his sister, who's been turned into a demon, is noble, heart-wrenching, and a perfect vehicle for introducing a variety of demons with increasingly complicated motives and tragic backstories of their own. It's like "My Neighbor Totoro," if Totoro wanted to eat you.

The battles are visually stunning, a feast for the eyes, and they do an excellent job of reminding you that, yes, this is indeed a battle shounen manga. Each fight is more elaborate than the last, showcasing the power of friendship, determination, and, most importantly, breathing. Lots and lots of specialized breathing. Because who needs straightforward swordsmanship when you can have water dragons and fire tigers erupting from your blade?

Let's talk about the side characters, who range from the loveably quirky to the "I swear I've seen you in three other mangas" familiar. They add color, humor, and sometimes a depth to the narrative that keeps it from being just another demon-hunting story. And by depth, I mean they ensure the story checks off another square on the Shounen Bingo card: the power of teamwork.

In summary, "Demon Slayer" might not be breaking any new ground with its adherence to shounen tropes, but it's a testament to the fact that sometimes, all you need is a well-told story with characters you can root for, fights that keep you on the edge of your seat, and animation that makes each scene a work of art. It's comfortable, familiar, and sometimes, that's exactly what you're in the mood for. After all, there's a reason comfort food is so popular, and "Demon Slayer" is the manga equivalent of your favorite dish, served just the way you like it.

"Oyasumi Punpun," or as I like to call it, "Goodnight, Punpun: An Uplifting Tale of Sunshine and Rainbows," takes the concept of a coming-of-age story and decides that what it really needs is a healthy dose of existential dread, just for flavor. Picture this: a young bird (not an actual bird, but stick with me) named Punpun navigates through the joys of adolescence, love, and finding oneself, except someone forgot to include the 'joys' part and instead substituted a cocktail of life's hardest challenges.

Our protagonist, Punpun, is depicted as a simple, almost ghost-like figure, allowing readers to project themselves onto him. It's like the author ... said, "Why create a detailed character design when you can make everyone painfully relate to a bird-like stick figure?" Genius, really. Through Punpun's eyes, we're treated to a world that's so cheerful, it might just make you question the very fabric of your being and the existence of happiness.

Each character is crafted with the meticulous care of someone who loves to watch their creations suffer, blending tragedy and a pinch of humor so dark, it makes midnight look like high noon. Love interests? Make them complicated. Family dynamics? Make sure they're more twisted than a pretzel. Mental health? Let's explore that through a kaleidoscope of despair and fleeting moments of hope.

And yet, amidst the carefully constructed chaos, there's a beauty to "Oyasumi Punpun" that can't be ignored. It's like watching a car crash in slow motion; you know you should look away, but the raw emotion and the intricate storytelling compel you to stare, wide-eyed, until the very end. The narrative weaves through the absurdities of life, somehow managing to be both brutally honest and beautifully poetic.

In summary, "Oyasumi Punpun" is a heartwarming tale filled with fluffy bunnies, endless rainbows, and smiles. Just kidding. It's a beautifully crafted, soul-crushing journey that'll leave you contemplating existence, love, and the human condition. But hey, at least it's not another high school romance with a love triangle, right?

"Alice in Borderland," or as I like to call it, "The Ultimate 'What If Your Life Was Actually a High-Stakes Game?' Simulator," is not just a manga; it's a masterclass in how to blend psychological thrillers with a dash of existential dread, all while making you seriously question your own problem-solving skills.

The premise is simple yet profoundly compelling: What if, one day, you're whisked away to a parallel Tokyo where the only way to survive is by participating in deadly games? It's like someone looked at our mundane lives and thought, "Let's spice things up a bit," by turning the very fabric of existence into ... a game board. And thus, "Alice in Borderland" was born, serving not just as entertainment but as a philosophical inquiry into the nature of life itself.

Our protagonist, Ryohei Arisu (a nod to the titular Alice, because why not add a layer of literary allusion to the mix?), finds himself navigating this surreal, game-laden landscape. It's a tale that's as much about survival as it is about the search for meaning in a world that seems to have discarded all rules except one: win or die. It's thrilling, it's chilling, and it's got more twists than a bag of pretzels at a contortionist convention.

What I genuinely adore about "Alice in Borderland" is its ability to keep you on the edge of your seat, heart pounding, as you flip through each page. The games are ingeniously designed to test not just physical strength, but intellect, morality, and the very essence of human spirit. It's like the characters are being asked, "How much of your humanity are you willing to sacrifice to survive?" And let's be honest, who hasn't pondered that question while sitting in a particularly boring meeting or class?

But beyond the adrenaline-inducing games, there's a profound exploration of relationships, trust, and leadership. The bonds that form amidst chaos, the betrayals, the heartbreaks, and the moments of triumph—it's a rollercoaster of emotions that mirrors the unpredictability and the sheer, raw intensity of life itself.

In a way, "Alice in Borderland" is a metaphor for our own existence. Life is a game, filled with challenges, puzzles, and the occasional need to team up with strangers to solve a life-or-death riddle. It's a reminder that sometimes, the world doesn't make sense, and all we can do is play the hand we're dealt as cleverly as we can.

To say I like "Alice in Borderland" would be an understatement. It's a thrilling, thought-provoking saga that combines the best elements of psychological thrillers with a keen insight into the human condition. It's in my top 5 for a reason, standing as a testament to the power of storytelling to explore the deepest questions of existence, all while keeping you wildly entertained. In the end, isn't that the ultimate game we're all playing?

"Boku no Namae wa 'Shounen A'," or as I like to call it, "My Name is 'Boy A,' and I'm Here to Confuse You," serves as a prime example of what happens when you take a compelling premise, promising characters, and then decide, "You know what? Let's just see how convoluted we can make this."

At first glance, you're drawn in by the intrigue, the mystery, the potential for a deep dive into the psyche of our protagonist, "Boy A." But as you progress, you start to wonder if maybe the plot took a wrong turn somewhere and is now hopelessly lost, asking for directions from ... passersby who are just as confused as it is.

The story seems to meander like a river, except this river is in no rush to reach the sea. Instead, it prefers to loop back on itself, creating whirlpools of plotlines that suck you in and, instead of providing resolution, leave you swirling in the murky waters of "What on earth is happening?" And let's talk about those plot twists—they're like being promised a surprise party, only to find out the surprise is that there's no party, just a bewildering array of disconnected events that leave you scratching your head.

Character development appears to have been approached with a strategy akin to throwing darts at a board of personality traits, hoping they land on something that makes sense. Our dear "Shounen A" navigates through the story with the depth of a puddle in the Sahara, occasionally showing glimpses of becoming the ocean you hoped for, but never quite getting there.

Don't get me wrong; I wanted to like "Boku no Namae wa 'Shounen A'". There's something to be said about its attempt to tackle themes of identity, guilt, and redemption. But the execution feels like someone trying to piece together a puzzle in the dark. You appreciate the effort, but you really wish they'd just turn on a light.

In essence, "Boku no Namae wa 'Shounen A'" is like a rollercoaster designed by a committee that couldn't decide whether they were building a thrill ride or a scenic railway. You strap in, excited for the adventure, only to find yourself on a somewhat bumpy, largely confusing journey that leaves you slightly queasy and not entirely sure what just happened. But hey, at least the cover art was nice, right?

"Boy's Abyss," or as I like to affectionately call it, "The Deep Dive into Teen Angst We Didn't Know We Needed Until Now," is a rollercoaster of emotions that you didn't necessarily sign up for, but once you're on, you're not getting off until the ride's over. And trust me, you'll enjoy every loop, twist, and heart-stopping drop.

Imagine taking all the complexities of growing up, the angst, the drama, and the longing for something more, then throwing them into a blender with a dash of existential dread. What you get is "Boy's Abyss," a manga that's as intoxicating as your first love and as painful ... as your first breakup. It's the story we've all lived, in one way or another, except with more plot twists and morally gray characters than your average high school drama club could ever hope to portray.

Our protagonist's journey is akin to navigating a minefield of emotional turmoil and questionable life choices, which, let's be honest, is a pretty accurate representation of adolescence. Except here, the stakes are higher, the lows are darker, and the highs are, well, few and far between. It's like watching a trainwreck in slow motion; you want to look away, but the sheer force of the narrative keeps you riveted.

What I genuinely appreciate about "Boy's Abyss" is its unflinching willingness to explore the darker corners of human nature and the complexities of relationships. It doesn't shy away from the messy, the uncomfortable, or the downright disturbing. Instead, it dives headfirst into the abyss, dragging us along for the ride, and somehow, we're all the better for it.

But let's not forget the relatability factor. Amidst the chaos and the drama, there's a raw, underlying truth to the characters' experiences and emotions. It's a mirror to the soul for anyone who's ever felt trapped by circumstance, yearned for escape, or struggled with the conflicting desires of heart and home. "Boy's Abyss" doesn't just tell a story; it bares a piece of the human condition, exposing the pain, the longing, and the desperate search for meaning in a world that often seems devoid of it.

So, yes, I enjoy "Boy's Abyss" for its complexity, its audacity, and its heart. It's a beautifully dark exploration of what it means to be young and lost, searching for light in the depths of despair. And if that's not a compelling reason to dive in, I don't know what is. It's not just a manga; it's an experience, a journey through the shadows that reminds us of the power of storytelling to connect, to disturb, and ultimately, to illuminate.

"My Dearest Self With Malice Aforethought," or as I've fondly dubbed it, "The Wild Ride Through Amnesia Lane With a Side of Mystery Meat," is like if your brain decided to throw a party, didn't invite you, and then left you to clean up the mess. And trust me, it's a mess you'll enjoy sorting through, piece by bewildering piece.This manga takes the concept of self-discovery to a whole new level. Imagine waking up one day with no memory of your recent past, only to find out you might be involved in some rather shady activities. It's the ultimate "It's not me, it's my amnesia" ... scenario, providing a fresh take on the age-old question of identity and the darkness that lurks within us all.Eiji, our protagonist, embarks on a journey not just to uncover the truth about his lost memories but to confront the very essence of who he is—or, more accurately, who he fears he might be. It's like peeling an onion, each layer revealing more questions than answers, and yes, there will be tears. Not from the poignant storyline alone, but from the sheer frustration of trying to piece together Eiji's scattered memories.What I thoroughly enjoyed about "My Dearest Self With Malice Aforethought" is its ability to blend dark humor with even darker mysteries. It's as if the manga whispers, "Life's a puzzle, and guess what? Half the pieces are missing, and the other half don't fit." The narrative weaves through twists and turns that would make a labyrinth look straightforward, all while maintaining a gripping pace that dares you to keep up.The character development is another high point. Watching Eiji grapple with the fragments of his past, confronting the potential monster within, is like watching a high-wire act where the safety net keeps disappearing. The supporting cast, with their own secrets and motivations, add layers of complexity and intrigue, making the mystery of Eiji's lost memories a shared burden that everyone seems to want a piece of.What sets this manga apart, however, is its exploration of morality and identity. It dares to ask, "Are we defined by our worst actions, or is there room for redemption?" It's a question that resonates on a personal level, making "My Dearest Self With Malice Aforethought" not just a story of mystery and amnesia but a reflective mirror on the nature of malice and forgiveness.In conclusion, "My Dearest Self With Malice Aforethought" is a brilliantly twisted journey through the maze of the human psyche, full of unexpected turns and dark revelations. It's a narrative that grips you, shakes you, and makes you question not just the protagonist's sanity, but your own. And let's be honest, who doesn't love a good existential crisis wrapped in a mystery?

"Holyland," or as I affectionately call it, "The Soul's Search for Sidewalk Salvation," really takes the concept of finding oneself and decides the best way to go about it is through a generous application of street fighting. It's as if the creator thought, "Why bother with the traditional coming-of-age story when we can just have our protagonist punch his way to enlightenment?"

At the heart of this visceral journey is Yuu, a protagonist who, in his quest for a place where he truly belongs, decides to exchange existential musings for the more tangible language of fists and feet. Because, naturally, when words fail to convey the ... depths of your adolescent turmoil, a well-executed hook to the jaw speaks volumes. Yuu's transition from a reclusive teen to a street-fighting legend is not just a narrative arc; it's a spiritual awakening that happens to involve a lot of bruises.

The beauty of "The Soul's Search for Sidewalk Salvation" lies in its raw, unapologetic dive into the psyche of someone who's been pushed to the fringes, only to find his voice (and fists) in the lawless hymnals of backstreet brawls. Each punch thrown is a verse in the gospel according to Yuu, preaching the good word of self-discovery through the medium of martial arts.

Yet, what truly elevates "Holyland" beyond a mere fisticuff fest is its nuanced exploration of the emotional landscapes that drive us to seek our own "holy lands." It's not the fights that keep you hooked (though they are exhilarating); it's the moments in between, the breaths taken, the doubts, fears, and realizations that accompany each battle. Yuu's journey becomes a mirror to our own struggles, reflecting the universal quest for identity, purpose, and a place where one can stand firm, even if that place is claimed one fight at a time.

So, while "Holyland" might, on the surface, appear to glorify street fighting as a path to personal salvation, at its core, it's a poignant exploration of the human condition. It’s a story that acknowledges the battles we all face, both externally and within ourselves, and proposes that perhaps, just maybe, there's more to each fight than just the physical act. It suggests that every confrontation, every challenge, is a step on the path to finding where we truly belong. And if that journey involves throwing a few punches along the way, then so be it. After all, isn't life the biggest brawl of them all?

"The Climber," or as I've come to affectionately call it, "Scaling the Heights of Self-Discovery: The Mori Memoirs," has cemented itself as not just a manga but a personal anthem of sorts. The reason? Its uncanny ability to mirror my own internal battles and victories, all wrapped up in the journey of Mori, our protagonist who takes the concept of 'climbing the corporate ladder' a bit too literally by opting for actual mountains instead.

Mori's saga, which might as well be titled "An Introvert's Guide to Conquering Both Social Anxiety and Mount Everest," speaks to me on a spiritual level. It's not just his relentless pursuit ... of mountain peaks but his equally arduous journey through the rugged terrains of self-doubt and identity. Watching him tackle each climb with the same determination one applies to surviving a particularly awkward social gathering is both inspiring and eerily relatable.

Each chapter of "Scaling the Heights of Self-Discovery" is a testament to the notion that sometimes, to truly find yourself, you need to get lost on a mountainside or two. Mori's approach to life's challenges, choosing to face them head-on (or, more accurately, climb them head-on), provides a compelling blueprint for navigating the ups and downs of our own personal landscapes.

What makes "The Climber" and Mori's journey resonate so deeply with me isn't just the thrill of the ascent but the profound introspection that comes with each step upward. It's as if Mori's climbs are a metaphor for the personal growth journey, with every pitch and crag a reminder of the obstacles we all face in our quest to reach our summits, both literal and metaphorical.

So yes, "Scaling the Heights of Self-Discovery: The Mori Memoirs" is more than just my favorite manga; it's a mirror reflecting my own aspirations and the occasional existential crisis, packaged within the gripping narrative of a climber's quest for meaning and belonging. Mori, in his silent determination and introspective solitude, teaches us that sometimes the most significant journeys are those that take us not just across the world but deep within ourselves. And if that involves scaling a few daunting peaks along the way, then so be it. After all, isn't life itself the ultimate climb?

Overall- 9/10
Art- 6/10 The art is subpar, there's nothing too special about it. It's pretty average. If the art were better, I'd give the entire manga a 10/10 overall.
Characters- 10/10 The characters are amazing, the two protagonist are a 13 year old girl and a "mermaid" who are oblivious to life as a whole. They are extremely well written, the author really makes you feel their thought process, and it shows how different children view the world compared to adults.
Story- 10/10 This story is one big metaphor, even the title. This story is amazing in every sense, the story really shows how oblivious children are ... to the world and how children use coping mechanisms to hide abuse. A big theme in this manga is stockholm syndrome, specifically in children. Overall this manga starts out as a typical shoujo, but very quick takes up seinen like characteristics as eveything comes crumbling down when you realize that being a mermaid is one giant analogy.