Review by Frank Plowright

Kengo Hanazawa featured new characters on the cover to Omnibus 8, not actually seen until the final pages, but opens Omnibus 9 with them. Among them is Korori, another manga artist. When last seen in Omnibus 1, the odds on his survival seemed slim, yet it’s with his overly confident and obnoxious personality intact. Is Hanazawa perhaps satirising someone? It’s eventually apparent that Korori and his companions are located in Tokyo, which is where Hideo and Hiromi are heading, and are part of a larger organised group based on the top floors of a large building. Disturbingly, it’s run by someone who considers themselves a messiah, and wants to spread the word of their cult.

As ever, the art is phenomenal, with the cityscapes impressing in particular. They may be digitally manipulated photographs, and they may be the result of some poor assistant putting in days of work, but they look astonishing. As seven assistants are credited in the small print at the back, let’s highlight Satomi Hiyashi, Miki Imai, Yurihiro Kamiya, Giichi Koyama, Kurao Nabe, Jurii Okamota and Tetsuro Yodagawa.

Over the past couple of volumes Hanazawa has shown some remarkable things going on with zombies, not least their coalescing into massive moving shapes of flesh, and more disturbing changes occur here. From vestigial memories of previous lives in earlier books to their current state is some leap, and suggests there could be a guiding intelligence of some kind. Or perhaps there isn’t. The likelihood is Hanazawa coming up with something way better than the result of reader speculation.

It’s about halfway through before Hideo and Hiromi reach Tokyo, and while Hideo’s behaviour is also far from ideal, at least there’s a level of respect. A charming scene features the two of them hanging out in a deserted supermarket and leads to what’s been building for some time, and here’s where we hit the disturbing part. Hiromi has on several occasions referred to herself as underage when alcohol is involved, but as she was introduced as a schoolgirl, in this volume we have to assume being underage is meant as most people would take it. Societal norms would be unlikely to apply during the zombie apocalypse, but a long consummation scene is more intimate than many might be comfortable with, especially given Hanazawa’s decompressed form of storytelling. However, despite all that, with all his hangups Hideo is hardly a responsible adult, there’s genuine feeling on both sides, and the awkwardness of both parties makes this a voyeuristic comedy sex scene.

Hanazawa doesn’t often use cliffhanger endings, but there’s a literal leap into the unknown to end yet another compelling outing. It picks up again in Omnibus 10.