I Thot You Was a Toad's manga / #anti-romance(2)

Shinichi, a one-hit wonder of a former pop-idol, comes crashing against his disappointed and unfulfilled dreams, just at the point where he reunites with Chikara, an overbearing and caustic junior whose feelings he once played around with, and who he abandoned to have a go as a musician. Ai no, Uta is a sad and bitter story about artists and the free market, and about being both unsupportive and unsupportable as a person. Shinichi's ego is something to behold, but I don't necessarily agree with Chikara that he should abandon his music, either, since it's wrapped up with his soul. It doesn't seem like Shinichi's reunion with Chikara is a stroke of luck, either, although it correlates with the walloping message that the universe is sending to him about what everyone thinks about his musical skill. Chikara is extreme, and while it isn't his job to suckle Shinichi's ego, his determination to crush his dreams borders on abusive. The brother drops hints about mental-emotional illness. In any case, the story ends without resolution beyond Shinichi's epiphany of self-realization and, at the same time, self-loathing, and sometimes, that's all there is to a story. It's a good story, but there isn't an ounce of comfort or kindness in it — kind of like, both, Shinichi and Chikara. One can imagine they might learn something from that ... or not.

These two stories gave me pause. They are interesting, but tough, and more realistic, than romantic, with bittersweet resolutions. (1) Chizumi's postpones dealing with his unresolved feelings for a dead friend by raising the friend's son, Ibuki, and having grief-relief sex with his other friend, Yatabe. When Ibuki confesses, Chizumi indulges his infatuation far too much for my personal comfort, but he does realize his mistake and takes action to correct it. Unfortunately, it throws his entire motive for rearing Ibuki into the realm of exploitation, rather than a sincere concern for his well-being, and he wounds Ibuki with, both, the inevitable rejection and the wildly disparate balance of power (Ibuki being completely dependent and vulnerable in their situation.) Realistically, people do betray ones who love them this way, without atoning or making amends, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste. Not quite as bitter as (2) the relationship between Kazuhi and Ichiyama, where atonement is expressed through violence. Yamakami Ryou's stories have an unsettling sense of personal contradiction, with pain and betrayal at the heart, but they are insightful and highly readable dramas, well worth the time and effort.