Having recently binge-read Chainsaw Man in its entirety, I can confidently say it’s a fantastic piece of manga that anybody with an affinity for the medium should pick up. Tatsuki Fujimoto has packed his latest work to the brim with gore inspired violence, spine-tingling horror, and cleverly injected humour: it digs its claws in from the very first page and doesn’t let up for a second.

For all of that, it’s no wonder how or why this series has already carved its way into so many hearts. With an upcoming anime adaptation in the works coming from MAPPA [the team behind Yuri on Ice and Banana Fish], as well as the colossal Attack On Titan currently airing its final season, Chainsaw Man might just be the next big thing. Of course, like any other manga, a large portion of Chainsaw Man’s success falls onto the shoulders of its protagonist, and luckily there’s a great one here. So, let’s talk about Denji.

I really like Denji. I could go on for hours about how ridiculously cool his combat abilities are, after all he can literally turn into a living Chainsaw and tear his opponent’s limb from limb, and this is without even touching on how his chaotic energy makes every fight even more intense. I could also take a deep dive into how his lack of social competence and subsequent interactions with his peers is a vehicle for many comedic moments throughout the series. The most compelling thing about Denji though, is the very thing that really showcases Fujimoto’s strength as a writer. He exudes a lot of typical Shonen protagonist tropes; however, they’re almost always flipped on their head.

Simply put: Denji is as anti-Shonen as a Shonen protagonist can get, and it makes things really damn interesting.

When we first meet Denji, he’s very down on his luck. A 16-year-old orphan, who’s resorted to selling several organs on the black market and is stuck in a verbal contract with an unforgiving Yakuza – killing devils for them to pay back a large debt amassed by his deceased father. The minimal pay and crippling debt ultimately leave Denji completely stricken by poverty. He literally goes to sleep at night dreaming of having jam to put on his bread. All he has in life is his dog, Pochita. Luckily, Pochita isn’t just an ordinary dog – he’s also the chainsaw devil.

After being betrayed by the Yakuza, Denji is killed and this is when Pochita offers him a contract. In the world of Chainsaw Man, devils and humans can come to terms of agreement whereby the human is granted use of the devils’ powers, and in Denji’s case, a second chance at life. Once merging with Pochita and taking his newfound powers for a test run on those who took his life, Denji meets Makima – an agent working for the public safety, a cooperation tasked with hunting devils across Japan, and he’s soon offered a place amongst their ranks. In the beginning Denji is altogether clueless about his powers, so much so that he goes into to his first fight on the job not knowing that there’s only as much chainsaw power as there is blood in his body and it puts him at a straight disadvantage. Granted, this doesn’t last long but it still makes him an underdog, if only for a brief period.

Having little exposure to the world of devil hunting makes him appear misinformed and uneducated to his peers. Being somewhat ‘slow’ and ‘dumb’ isn’t an uncommon trope, however what’s interesting is how Denji’s level of intelligence is something directly related to his standard of living – he’s never been to school to receive a proper education. This also means he hasn’t had a lot of experience in social settings – something reflected in his ineptitude when meeting his co-workers. Coupled with an absence of parental guidance, this also explain his lack of a moral compass… although it might be a stretch to even call it a compass. From the start, Denji shows a complete lack of remorse to those he’s fighting, even going so far as to torture one devil so much that they take their own life out of pain. It’s a striking contrast to that of someone like Naruto who always tries to understand his enemies, or Demon Slayer’s Tanjiro, who opts for empathy even when he has to put a demon down.

In fact, the majority of Denji’s character and personality traits all harken back to his experiences in poverty and this is utterly genius.

When starting at public safely he’s given a room and board which means for the first time in his life he can eat 3 meals a day. So, like many Shonen protagonists, Denji has a big appetite but there’s no gimmick for explanation. He isn’t from another planet like Goku, nor does he need insane amounts of nutrition to build up his powers. Denji eats as much as he can because he’s spent his entire life starving.

Denji’s dreams are small to start with and they don’t get much grander. Unlike most in the genre he doesn’t start out with a goal, and the ones he does eventually set for himself are all very grounded in reality. He doesn’t want to find a great pirate treasure or become Hokage one day… the first thing he really aspires to do is touch some boobs. As lude as it is, he holds this ambition in very high regard, and, when it’s achieved but doesn’t significantly change his life, he suffers through an intense period of existential dread.

To sum it all up; in theory, Denji is like many Shonen protagonists before him but in practice he’s a complete antithesis. The harsher reality that fuels many of the signature Shonen traits within his personality is expertly crafted, and his down to earth ambitions only offer up more relatability for readers. Overall, Tatsuki Fujimoto has expertly crafted a badass, compelling, anti-hero in Denji that just makes Chainsaw Man all more the brilliant.

The post We Need To Talk About Denji: The Brilliance of ‘Chainsaw Man’ & the Antitheses Protagonist  appeared first on The Nerd Daily.

In a faraway land, a blonde, little girl lives with a demon in the middle of the forest. Known to her as Teacher, the dark horned figure that protects the child was subjected to a curse, which started to devastate population as a result of a war between two gods. The White God, angry at the destructive power of the Black God, decided to banish the latter, building a wall between them and thus dividing the world into two realms. The Inside is a kingdom protected by light, while the Outside was left for the monsters created by darkness to roam free. Shiva – the little girl — and her dark companion live in The Outside, scavenging for whatever food and supplies those who fled from that side of the world left behind. But what is a little girl doing alone in a cursed place? Why is the Doctor, a cursed monster, trying so hard to protect the wellbeing of a mere child? And who are the real monsters in this story: The people who inhabit the light or the darkness?

Heavily influenced by traditional folktales, The Girl from the Other Side is a gripping narration full of evocative images and sensations. When you first step into the story, an immediate feeling of nostalgia shakes you to the core. Who hasn’t wanted to go back to the time when we all enjoyed fairytales? Nagabe’s narration gives the reader the haunting, fantastic impression that is usually attributed to stories catering to children. Nonetheless, the author takes a further step and goes back to that medieval, European fairytale we all know and love: dark, twisted, and eerie.

Set in a fantasy world with no clear timeframe, the tale takes place in what appears to be a medieval village, but there is a twist to it: Nagabe also imbues the setting with a strong post-apocalyptic undertone, most likely due to the fact that the first contact the reader has with the story takes place in the Outside, where every human setting has been left to decay in its reigning darkness. At the same time, plenty of binary oppositions drive the overall development of the volume, as it typically does, not only in traditional narratives, but also in practically every single one of our traditional religions. In a previews interview, Nagabe has revealed that the driving force of The Girl from the Other Side is “gentleness”[1], but it is rather obvious that the opposition of light and darkness is a central piece of the tale too.  At the same time, paying attention to good and evil, as well as innocence and cruelty, is also very much essential to understand the narration and the extent to which said gentleness can be represented. All these contrasting elements lead to the convergence of suffocating, crude moments and heartwarming scenes, intertwining in an engrossing dance of antagonising feelings. To sum up, Nagabe creates a rather colourful palette of shades of grey, resulting in the addition of another layer of meaning and intention to those typical fairytales the story takes after.

Not surprisingly, that rich variety of shades of grey can also be applied to the illustrations, which rely strongly on the opposition of black and white. Said contrast is taken to such a point that certain panels are almost completely black, especially when the author wants to highlight the gloomiest and most sinister facets of his universe. On the contrary, the most innocent and adorable exchanges between Shiva and the Teacher are mostly white. A brilliant use of polarisation, but also a rather risky decision, as certain panels are so dark that they can be hard to interpret. Continuing with the illustration, and despite the small downside of saturated contrasts, the volume is fairly easy to read, even to those who are not particularly familiarised with the characteristic structure of manga. In terms of its written body, and in addition to said structural simplicity, the text and illustrations are exquisitely balanced, making The Girl from the Other Side a quick, but utterly absorbing read. While the panels are straightforwardly organised and easy to follow so that the reader does not get lost, unfortunately, that is not always the case for the written content itself. If you are looking for a work that reveals every piece of information soon after the beginning of the story, this might not be the right series for you. Only one or two small yet central pieces of information are given to the reader in this initial tome, so expect to be left in a fairly intrigued, but confused state when you finish it.

Overall, The Girl from the Other Side is a haunting fairytale, with a gripping plot, complex characters and a dark, suffocating atmosphere. Bearing in mind that this is only the first of nine volumes —at least for the moment—, the volume might appear to be a little lacking in terms of content and plot. Fear not, dear reader, because this is what I would call a slowburn read: it will sneak into your heart and leave you waiting for more. There are still so many questions to be answered that you will not be able to stop yourself from buying the rest of the published tomes.

The Girl from the Other Side is available from Amazon, Book Depository, and other good book retailers.

Will you be picking up The Girl from the Other Side? Tell us in the comments below!

Synopsis | Goodreads

Once upon a time…

In a land far away, there were two kingdoms: the Outside, where twisted beasts roamed that could curse with a touch, and the Inside, where humans lived in safety and peace. The girl and the beast should never have met, but when they do, a quiet fairytale begins.

This is a story of two people–one human, one inhuman–who linger in the hazy twilight that separates night from day.

[1] Minako Nakamura, “I want to cherish ‘gentleness’ with both the art and the story” – an interview with Totsukuni no Shoujo author Nagabe, Pixivision, 2nd January 2017, https://www.pixivision.net/en/a/2008?p=1

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