I’ll never forget where I was when I read the 79th chapter of Chainsaw Man.

On the nineteeth floor of my first-year residence building, my jaw laid open on the floor and my eyes were rubbed raw with tears. I’d finished the last page of this volume. It wasn’t even a full day before I devoured the rest of the series (at the time) and subsequently begun my status as a self proclaimed “super fan” of author: Tatsuki Fujimoto.

I have been enamoured with manga since I was 11 years old, but something about this series was so unbelievable to me that it was all I could talk about for months. I raved about Chainsaw Man until my friends couldn’t stand it, and when the anime was announced I nearly died from excitement. There was just something about it, I couldn’t exactly nail down what it was that made this series so fantastic for me. Obviously it excels in all of the typical portions of the Battle Shonen genre of manga. It demonstrates a masterclass in action, characters, storytelling, power system, and villains. But there was something much more dark and real about Chainsaw Man. I’m a big fan of the musician Mitski, but I didn’t know I was betting on losing dogs; Fujimoto never had the intention to give the audience anything close to a happy ending. However, I didn’t feel let down or discouraged, I needed more.

Chainsaw Man was the best piece of media I had ever consumed. It moved me in ways I had never felt before. Nothing could ever top this Masterpiece... (pause for dramatic effect) Or so I thought! After finishing the paragon that is Fire Punch, I took a look back at everything that my favourite mangaka had written. Moments that seemed too similar to be concidental kept popping into my head. Why has there been an impactful scene with a movie theatre as a setting in all of his recent work?

I steamrolled through Goodbye, Eri, and Don’t look back. Coming off of the tail of two much darker stories filled with killing and heart-wrenching let-downs, these two more melancholic one-shots were refreshing. In their own ways they both seemed to be a love letter to film and manga respectively. The glimpses of these meaningful movie theatre moments peaked through on full display all of a sudden, and it clicked for me. Tatsuki Fujimoto doesn’t write “Battle Shonen” manga. Chainsaw Man and Fire Punch are character studies. They’re an expression of guilt, loss, and drive. Nothing good happens to the main characters in these manga. Yet, they aren’t typical in the way that characters overcome their problems and have a happy ending. That’s because there aren’t always happy endings in life.

If you’re looking for something that is a little dark, too melancholic for its own good, filled with tragedy and death, or you really enjoy chainsaws, cameras, and/or climate disasters, give the Tatsuki Fujimoto collection a try. It won’t let you down. It might break your heart, but it will probably be something you remember for a long time.

Heya! I’m Owen. I’m the rugby playing, manga reading, drag race watching, poetry writing, cosplaying, fandom hopping hot mess that your parents warned you about. For as long as I can remember I have been comparing, contrasting, and speculating about all of my favourite geeky hobbies. Hiding in the library in middle school and devouring three volumes of Hunter X Hunter every day most definitely had its perks. I represent the Queer/Athlete/Geek/Writer/ subgenre to the best of my abilities and I’m able to geek out about many things, so you’ll be sure to get your fill while you check out my blog.