If the previous moment was an emotional high point, this one’s a definite low.

The manga in question here is Onani Master Kurosawa, that indie production that did more for me than many (perhaps most) of the professional works I consumed this year. That it takes a dark turn isn’t so surprising; it’s easy to guess that the guy who ejaculates on people’s belongings for great justice and the girl who blackmails him into doing so don’t have wholly bright futures in store. But it’s hard to imagine just how dark said dark turn will be until it happens. And, sure enough, it’s dark.

I’ve had a hard time even forcing myself to start this post. I think the moment in question is difficult to write about in the same way that Bokurano is difficult to write about — it strikes a personal chord or two. But the middle chapters of OMK are difficult even to read through. If it is ultimately, as Ghostlightning suggests, a story of hope, a redemption story, it certainly doesn’t spare those characters who will be redeemed.

This should be a brief post, then, in terms of word count. I’ll let Yoko’s superbly expressive art speak for itself, mostly. To clarify, though, the moment in question is Kurosawa’s act of revenge against the girl he has fallen for, who chooses someone else over him — if indeed it is revenge, and not something simpler and more primal, a mere act of expressing his frustration (and, in a way, Kitahara’s frustration) the only way he knows how.

Here’s the thing: until this point, Kurosawa has been rather sympathetic. We know beyond doubt that he’s a troubled kid, but thus far his “targets” have been people who could stand to be taught a lesson in one way or another, and we’ve seen him relent from going after people he doesn’t deem especially deserving. More than that, I get his self-loathing, the kind of self-loathing that becomes a more general loathing for human beings. I’ve never been a chronic masturbator, mind you, but I suspect that, emotionally, I’ve been where Kurosawa is.

But here Kurosawa commits an egregious and revolting act, a terrible act of sexual harassment. That in itself isn’t the most horrifying thing. The most horrifying thing is that now we realize in full that he’s been doing as much all along. At no point was he ever even a sad parody of a champion of justice. He’s always been nothing more than a sick kid who jacks off on people’s things. The story’s first half lulls us into laughing it all off; the second half asks us what our having done so says about us. On the bright side, though, it isn’t long before Kurosawa realizes as much about himself, and at that point his redemption — his “discovering the world,” as CCY puts it — can begin.

All in all, this is not the sort of moment whose memory I relish. But it is without a doubt the sort of moment that I’ll never forget.

[Read the next post here]

The first post I read on the matter was Ghosty’s, which does the gar thing, makes some hilariously apt comparisons between tossing off and aniblogging, and moves on to this:

…Onani Master Kurosawa shifts in direction in an awesome way. Stakes got really high for the characters involved, and there is much, terrible shame, and loss. I find it personally heartwrenching and cringeworthy (See Omisyth’s reactions [1] and [2]). But as I’ve mentioned, this is a [feel] good story and the resolution is stunning. I’m a sucker for redemption stories, especially those wherein the redemption is accomplished wholly out of one’s own power. This manga had one of the more satisfying and fulfilling endings I’ve read in a while, and I could feel the respect and care felt and lavished on the characters. Many of them gave me surprising turns that just blasted me with good feeling.

I don’t know if it left me feeling “good,” per se, save in that it was pretty damn cathartic. Oh yes, this seemingly simple doujin manga about masturbating for great justice goes places I wish more commercial manga would. Cringeworthy indeed. The ending, though, is very hopeful, and we’re at least left with the sense that Kurosawa is on the right path. He’s no longer trapped behind the doors of his own teenage mind — a state that OMK does a hell of a job illustrating. Enter transientem; I didn’t become aware of this blog until looking for OMK posts, but I wish I had earlier.

As befitting the first term of the title Onani Master Kurosawa (hereafter abbreviated to OMK) lewd subject matter can be found, and is what’s on tap (literally) for about half the manga, consensus being that the turning point is around the 17th chapter, with transition being as early as chapter 8 with the library scene. It makes one wonder if the subversion of the original premise was planned from the beginning.

That subversion is, I think, one of the most lucid, tangible articulations of a one-sided relationship that I’ve ever seen.

• Of a loner latching onto someone because they mistook general sociability and respect for something more.
• Of the shell-shock from the realization of being wrong, and by being wrong having lost a wager they were unaware of making, because they couldn’t reign in their feelings.
• Of rage at the object of affection climbing down from the pedestal, yet climbing ever higher at the same time, out of reach.
• Of the hollowing of the soul and the resignation and nausea of drifting out to sea.

And this process is dealt with in gritty detail, it being one of the major plot threads of over half the manga. The uplifting parts are good, but my favorite aspect of OMK is the sheer horror that begins to grow even fairly early on, the worsening foreknowledge that something very bad will happen before the end, and the process of emotional numbness and acceptance which in my reading experience mirrored what Kurosawa goes through with frightening accuracy. OMK is a feel-good story in the same way that any tragedy manages to be; it cleanses the emotional palate, so to speak.

And, yes, I conceive of OMK as tragic, even if it takes an emotional upturn in the end. It’s allowed to after the climax. There seems to be enough catharsis going around to justify calling it a tragedy, anyway. Here’s part of a comment by Owen on that transientem post:

Reading this was horrible catharsis just like how ghostlighting felt it was, and every stab at Kurosawa’s heart was a stab at mine, reminding me of wounds I once felt.

The whole deal is amplified by Kurosawa being relatable even if you’ve never enacted revenge by blowing a load on someone’s school things. His sociopathy is the central issue, the unique masturbation habits being symptomatic thereof. And unrequited feelings…well, if you’ve experienced them, I don’t even need to tell you. In point of fact, the bulleted list above reminds me of someone I turned down once, and that’s a little unnerving to think about even if it was a long time ago.

I must admit, though, that Kurosawa wasn’t always the character to whom I could relate the most. He was getting over his problems with people at age 15. I wasn’t.

Kitahara, though.

Her hate and fear are by no means admirable, but I get it. It’s not easy to do what Kurosawa does when you’re a teenager. I have a hard enough time doing it now. But Kitahara is the sort of person I can imagine having sat with in the lunchroom, exchanging stories about why we disliked who we disliked and what sorts of things we wouldn’t mind happening to those people, and though I’ve done a bit of growing-up since high school, that may be the most unsettling thing about OMK for me. At no point did I ever have a hard time figuring out where Kitahara was coming from, as it’s a place with which I’m all too familiar.