“Once Upon a Time in Akihabara”
Demystifying 2003, rejecting romance & indulging in the grand otaku drama.
Stacks upon stacks of paperback books were scattered with intention across folded tables and plastic bins on the bustling convention floor. Rows of rainbow-colored spines all cascaded into one swirling vortex of disorientating bright colors. Amidst this sensory overload in the manga aisle it’s as if everything starts to lose its identity- though, this was no ordinary manga aisle and I was in no bookstore. I was at an anime convention perusing titles in the manga dealer’s area which had more stock than I had ever seen in one place. Granted, this was before my trip to Nakano Broadway where Mandarake’s second floor location would far surpass this humble collection, though that’s a different story for a different day. Here at this convention in the middle of the United States was a grand selection of manga that any maniac fan would be eager to jump at. Except by this point I was a seasoned manga shopping veteran, and being as invested in the hobby as I am now, these elaborate displays had already started to lose their luster. After countless Barnes & Noble visits over the years I had already subconsciously committed to memory a catalog of all available officially localized manga and light novels into my personal database of knowledge. Eventually I’d see the same titles over and over and grow tired knowing there was nothing new to discover. Perhaps my taste lay at odds with that of the average English-speaking manga-reader. My manga consumption has trended downward in recent years which could be indicative of the general lack of excitement I felt towards book shopping. Within these swirling thoughts of “woe is me” something caught my eye- nestled between a dozen other volumes in an unassuming clear plastic bin I found the perfect manga for me. Written in bold red letters along the spin was a title that read “I, Otaku: Struggle in Akihabara.” I had to do a double-take. Yes- I am an otaku- and upon seeing these sacred words I immediately knew that this was my manga. At first it seemed too good to be true; maybe this was just another one of those TokyoPop-era original English manga titles, but all worries were quelled the moment I saw a Japanese name credited for the art and story. I had never heard of this manga but I knew that amongst these piles of dispensable books, this was the one that would mean the most to me.
This moment rendered in perfect bliss lasted just long enough for me to experience the joy
of genuinely finding something new for myself. In all these years of being an otaku a lot of the magic of
finding weird new titles has been lost. By this point I was already jaded and would roll my eyes as I
scanned bookshelves and not give certain titles a second look, already knowing enough to disregard a series.
So when I do happen to uncover something the excitement is euphoric. After the convention I did a bit of
research about my new find. Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki, localized
as “I, Otaku: Struggle in Akihabara” is a manga by Suzuki
Jirou that began serialization in Square Enix’s Monthly
G-Fantasy++ magazine in 2001. It was later collected into six tankobon volumes beginning in 2003. I had the second volume, and while I was
lucky that the first volume was easy to find on the second-hand market for cheap, these were the only two
volumes ever officially localized by Seven Seas. This is where my wonderful find is undermined by a tragic
licensing story: during my research I found database entries for the third and fourth volumes on
AnimeNewsNetwork with seemingly official marketing material stylized using the official English localized
logos and typeface. Not to mention there are ISBNs and proposed release dates readily available.
Furthermore, I was able to somewhat corroborate this through various dead listings across Amazon and other
book selling sites. Most mysterious of all is that on Seven Seas’ Go Manga subdomain a listing for the
third volume of “I, Otaku” exists in September 2008, but
were seemingly scrubbed from the page before the next site capture in December 2008. This leads me to
believe that the additional two volumes were initially greenlit and possibly already translated but were
quickly decided to be canceled before mass printing, or that they were released in a very limited capacity;
either way, this fascinates me because of how legitimate it feels, but nevertheless disappointing. Outside
of official releases, Manga Updates reports there are no groups scanlating this series nor was there any
raws I could find across the various sites I frequent. What’s most interesting about Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki is that there is not really an absence of
information about the series online in English and Japanese, but it seems to have been completely neglected
after release. Meanwhile other series like Genshiken continue to have a cult following afterwards in both regions. The inherent obscurity of the
title compounded upon my already strong attraction to the themes making it all the more alluring. If only
the series was more popular, perhaps there would have been more volume releases. Seven Seas, yet again, you
disappoint me.
Perhaps the most exciting part I find when discussing Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki is that the manga is actually great! Oftentimes when reviewing these mysterious otaku media properties I will contend with a mediocre story that is at odds with the far more interesting conversation to be had around it- be it the reason it exists, the historical context or observations I have in retrospect. This manga instead exists not only as an interesting discussion point for the otaku zeitgeist circa 2003, but also as an enjoyable manga to read.
Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki (JP:
壮太くんのアキハバラ奮闘記)
concerns the titular character, Enatsu Souta, and his life that is torn between two conflicting lifestyles.
He lives a double-life, where during the day he is popular at school and has a girlfriend, but in the
afternoon he’s on the first train to Akihabara to splurge on some limited edition anime goods. He has
a particular infatuation with the moe character “Papico” from the fictional anime
“Wandaa Digitaru DokiDokiDoki Okyana PaPiCo!” and stops at
nothing to purchase her character goods. The primary conflict is quickly established in the opening chapter
where we see Souta have his secret otaku lifestyle unwillingly revealed to his girlfriend after she followed
him after school one day. Each chapter is presented with a similar naming scheme as the original Japanese
title using “funtouki” (奮闘記) which
roughly translated to mean “a record of one’s struggle,” and is used in a tongue-in-cheek
way here- in a similar turn of phrase as “heavy is the head that wears the fedora”- raising the
stakes of an otherwise inconsequential task. Though in this case, perhaps it’s more accurate to say
“heavy are the shoulders on which the Papico shirt is draped
upon.” Subsequent chapters are mostly episodic in nature and provide comedic vignettes that serve to
explore various facets of otaku culture as Souta engages with it. I need to emphasize the quality of the
comedy as well since it was far more funny than I expected. It’s not often that I decide to
not read something before bed knowing that I will probably stay up all
night laughing.
Within this story there is also a focus on a fictional shop in Akihabara called
“Otakudou” (オタク堂) run by a larger-than-life Akiba-kei otaku called
Mano Takuro- his name being a play on the Japanese phrase “true otaku” if read as
「真のオタク」and subtracting the last syllable. Mano Takuro is
the “tenchou,” (店長) or “shop
owner,” in this manga and Otakudou is a top secret shop that stocks only the most exclusive anime
goods while servicing only real, hardcore otaku. Souta also becomes close friends with another closet-otaku
from school who might be more of a maniac than him and they both frequent the shop, getting roped into
various antics thanks to the eccentric tenchou. However, the setting of
Otakudou and Mano Takuro’s name are also curious since they alludes to a potentially grander conflict
within the manga: “What does it mean to be a true otaku”- if one could exist in such a capacity
at all. I will touch on how the girlfriend-having Souta was allowed to exit the exclusive shop with limited
PaPiCo merch in a later section, but for now, Souta’s girlfriend-having existence seems at odds with
the philosophy of Mano Takuro and his shop, and is frequently brought up that he should “just dump the
three-dimensional”- Mano’s stance reflecting the view of most Akiba-kei otaku. Souta is an
enigma who both wants to be a maniac otaku but seems equally content with spending time with his girlfriend
Eri. And while- at least not within the first two volumes- the conflict regarding his girlfriend is largely
ignored, it leaves the reader wondering if Souta will choose Eri, otaku culture, or somehow find a middle
ground. Whether it wants to or not, Souta-kun no Akihabara
Funtouki set itself up to potentially make a problematic decision. Other similar series
like Densha Otoko decidedly disavowed otaku culture by offering an
alternative narrative where an individual could shed these quote-unquote “childish” and
“unbecoming” ways to reassimilate with society by mean of a cookie-cutter romantic relationship.
Meanwhile similarly themed manga such as Kami nomi zo Shiru Sekai meander around the point for the majority of its run. So while I have not seen
Souta’s struggle to completion, I predict it will end with an unfortunate compromise.
Maniac Road
Maniac Road (JP: まにいロード) is another manga serialized in the early 2000’s about otaku culture with a focus on a shop in Akihabara- sound familiar? This shop shares the same name as the series’ namesake, though also has the unfortunate consequence of sounding an awful lot like “money road” read in Japanese (manii rōdo), assuredly turning away at least one or two customers due to suspicion. Maniac Road serialized in the Dengeki Daioh magazine between January 2002 and May 2003 by mangaka Kurihashi Shinsuke and was later collected into three tankobon volumes. This past summer I stumbled upon Comics One’s old localization in a used book store and immediately threw all three volumes into my basket upon seeing the sacred word “otaku” printed in the first volume’s synopsis. At the same time, I also knew that in Japanese people often used “mania” (or, マニア) to refer to a hardcore hobbyist- typically an otaku. This carries a slightly negative connotation, though this is only negative in the way that a remark from a stranger saying that someone is a “train nerd” with no malicious intent might still sound more belittling than just saying “rail fan.” “Mania” in this case was an elevated otaku. With this in mind I completed my purchase and went home to start reading yet another mysterious otaku manga.
The conversation surrounding Maniac Road is a bit
less interesting since the quality of the manga is generally unremarkable. The story begins by establishing
Muto Takezou as this sort of “ronin” old-school otaku.
Unlike Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki which largely focuses on
otaku culture in the Akiba-kei post-Dejiko moe era; Maniac Road is
far closer to being a classic take on the scene, similar to Otaku no Video in that sense. Much of the
subject matter is about topics not specifically related to anime or manga such as plastic model building,
cosplay and arcade gaming, which gives the series a unique approach to discussing otaku culture. Though
perhaps the most interesting thing about Maniac Road is how
obvious Kurihashi-sensei’s biases come through. Takezou is a much more defined mouthpiece for the
author’s opinions on otaku culture and much of what is discussed in the manga seems to be from a place
of intimate understanding. There are many points where Kurihashi as Takezou or another character will ramble
on about plastic models, battleships and war history- clearly talking from a place of passion and
understanding- and is actually what gives the manga a strong sense of personality. But the longer I read the
less Takezou felt like a character naturally living within this world so much as he seemed like an avatar
for the author. While I actually learned a decent amount about non-Gundam plastic model kits and the culture surrounding it, other sections could
be completely skipped because Kurihashi rambles about inconsequential facts without any story implications.
But at the end of the day I’d rather have this blind passion over something coherent at the expense of
respect. Unfortunately most of the later sections fail to live up to these rambling bits since they are
front-loaded in the story. Most chapters subsequently end up reading like a crash course in 2000’s
otaku culture with Takezou engaging in different activities, explaining the details to his mostly-ignorant
cohorts at the Maniac Road shop.
I want to open the discussion about both manga by exploring Takezou since while he isn’t a particularly interesting character within his own series, the narrative begins to open up once we consider him in regards to Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki. His closest analog would not be Enatsu Souta, but instead Mano Takuro, since both are the archetypical hot-blooded “tenchou” characters in their respective stories. The difference is that Takezou is the main character in Maniac Road. This character archetype started to appear for a brief time following the 2002 Gainax-produced commercial for Animate- a real chain of otaku-oriented stores with a main location in Akihabara- called Anime Tenchou (2002). This short animation features mascot character “Anime Tenchou” who is a cross between a late-Showa delinquent banchou and Harunobu Madarame from Genshiken. His infectious energy paired with the themes of the commercial establishes a precedent for a badass anime store manager character that would subsequently be parodied or referenced in many series thereafter. I find this short-lived archetype to be really fascinating because it somewhat mirrors my writing about the “Ideological Warrior” otaku persona closely, in that both are these larger-than-life figures. Estimating that Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki and Maniac Road are steeped in some semblance of our reality, where anime and manga already exists as an entertainment medium and closely resembles contemporary Japan, we can assume that characters like Mano Takuro or Muto Takezou are closer to representing real people than abstract characters. Reading these manga in such a way frames them as people intentionally portraying an archetype instead of simply existing as one like Anime Tenchou himself. Meaning, they likely live in a Japan where Anime Tenchou CM’s aired on television and sought to bring this energy to their own shops. Similarly, Harunobu Madarame and other otaku like him intentionally present themselves in such a way that gives the impression that their animated persona is built upon their overflowing love for their obsessions; performative in their exaggeration, but honest in their core beliefs. This maniac masquerade is understood amongst Akiba-kei otaku who, to some extent, all follow this mantra.
As a result, both manga read like a victory lap around otaku culture’s greatest hits
circa-2000 in their coverage. Though despite the intentional approach both manga took to read like a
beginner’s guide, they instead best market themselves towards the pre-established hardcore otaku
crowd. This is even more apparent in the Western market where the audience of the day was even further
limited to a few weirdo forumites who already know what an “otaku” is in the first place. But
those of us who had a chance to read these types of manga likely found them incredibly comforting in how
they both reinforced our love for otaku hobbies, and also gave us dreams to one day achieve. In comparison,
Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki unexpectedly leans into this aspect
far more than Maniac Road to emphasize its niche appeal.
Unfortunately its reason for success was also likely the reason it never saw more volumes published outside
of Japan. This niche appeal was immediately apparent picking up the first volume of the manga that already
chose to localize its title as “I, Otaku” instead of a far
more literal “Souta-kun’s Struggle in Akihabara,”
already expecting the reader to know what “otaku” means, or at least being interested enough to
learn more. Flipping the book over reveals perhaps one of the most incomprehensibly outlandish taglines I
have ever seen on any piece of media before: “Move over Comic
Party, there’s a new fandom comedy in town!” -- I love
this line. Had the title of this manga not caught my eyes initially, this line alone
would have won me over. This tagline is admirable in its complete understanding of the core demographic to
the point where it’s referencing an out-of-print manga not even licensed by Seven Seas. Comic Party’s manga adaptation was licensed by TokyoPop and was already a
hyper-niche manga that appealed exclusively to early-2000’s otaku specifically into bishoujo games, doujinshi and otaku culture. The manga itself was an adaptation
of the 2001 anime, which itself was based on a visual novel developed by LEAF of ToHeart fame. Fans like me had their eyes light up when seeing that line. But
if you read the title of “Comic Party” knowing this book
was a Japanese media property and still assumed “Comic” was “Comic” and not
「コミック」, then you
are「十年早い」 to even consider reading Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki.
The core demographic reading Souta-kun no Akihabara
Funtouki and Maniac Road are those that would
likely already frequent the fictional shops featured in the stories. Both Otakudou and the Maniac Road shops exist in Akihabara in their respective
manga’s universe and are intended to represent the mythical “hole in the wall” gem of a
shop that only a few people know about. Everyone wants a place like this for something, be it a restaurant
location or brand. To a more abstract degree this desire for exclusivity can extend to ideas and interests.
I can only speak for myself, but I have a latent bias towards things that are relatively unknown. I am more
free to stake a claim on it as being “my thing” and not feel like I’m falling in-line with
everyone else. This leads me to talking about the otaku “secret club” that is represented to
some degree in either one of these manga.
Akihabara is an open secret even amongst riajuu across the world. Most people already know that there is a place in Tokyo where all the maniacs tend to gather like it’s a convention everyday. The prevailing narrative amongst us otaku has been one of admonishment in the defacing of Akiba from what it used to be- that image informed solely through low-quality camcorder recordings and tales of conquest from those who were fortunate enough to be there. But by at least mid-2003 one could assume that otaku culture was marketable enough to sell manga officially bound and sold as tankobon, even if many might still consider this the “golden age” of the subculture. At this point the town had been demystified. Every nook-and-cranny of the town has already been discovered. The adventurous spirit of a plaid-shirt-wearing treasure-hunters looking for unknown shops became as much a dream as the fantasies they indulged. By 2003 there were already people daydreaming about a world where this was not the case. Otaku were already beginning to imagine an alternate timeline where there was a secret club in their special town where only the most true fans could gather-- this is the “otaku secret club.” A far more literal example of this can be seen with the Gendai Shikaku Bunka Kenkyuu-kai (現代視覚文化研究会) circle in the manga Genshiken, which was is a more exclusive off-shoot of the university’s manga and anime clubs. It represents the more idealized version of what the watered-down official clubs should be by presenting a more comfy alternative. The “secret club” manifests in both the spirit of Otakudou and Maniac Road. Otaku culture is no different that other subcultures in that regard, where the most hardcore amongst these groups will begin to desire exclusivity during rapid growth. In Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki, Otakudou only serves maniac fans who can unflinchingly can shout “Hurray for 2D loving otaku!” (二次元好きオタク万歳) fully believing in their convictions.
Mano Takuro initially lets Souta purchase limited edition goods on the condition that he wholeheartedly believe in the shop’s philosophy, exclaiming: “Hurray for 2D loving otaku!” (二次元好きオタク万歳) Immediately after these words tumble from his mouth Souta is caught between the crosshairs of Eri’s piercing glare- his unmistakably-3D girlfriend. Souta’s hypocrisy was exposed, these sacred words thus tainted with the arrival of the very-real female before him. What business does a girlfriend-having individual have infiltrating in the shops in the deepest corners of the Akihabara strip? Why is there a riajuu three-dimensional girl within this sacred domain? Perhaps now Souta’s existence could be read instead as a far more dishonorable version of Densha Otoko’s faltering traitor- but I can’t say for certain not knowing the story’s ending. Perhaps Souta will surprise me by rejecting Eri and embrace the superiority of two-dimensions. Though what scares me the most is the far more likely ending where Souta embraces the 2D Papico and 3D Eri arm-in-arm, raising himself to becoming a diplomat-of-sorts for the era of 2.5D. The implications of this invites complacency for otaku and implies the literal and figurative marriage of two once-mutually-exclusive worlds. Otaku culture reduced to groveling at the feet of the grand riajuu narrative in defeat, retracting its once-firm ideology so 2.5D institutions like meido-kissa and sanjigen-kanojo could exist. I read Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki with such reservations because I’ve read a dozen other stories like it before that all reconciled their ideals for the sake of a “progressive” stance- either acknowledging 2.5D or embracing 3DPD outright.
This makes me wonder if any otaku manga ever stay “based”? Could Kami nomi zo Shiru Sekai end where Katsuragi Keima rejects everything he learned and still celebrate the superiority of galge heroines? Could Genshiken end with Harunobu Madarame biting his tongue and continuing to live as a Comiket-going 2D otaku, throwing away all his secret stash of cosplay pictures? And could Souta-kun no Akihabara Funtouki end with what most see as a foolish tragedy? To me, at least, it would be the right decision. I want to see old bridges burned to light the way for a brighter future that doesn’t involve discarding oneself entirely. Only a true nijigen otaku would not concern themselves with foolish narratives of romance and stands firm, never willing to concede. As Honda Toru once explained: “The modern man cannot be saved by grand narratives… He may seek small comfort through relationships such as romance or family, but if that doesn’t save him, he cannot preserve his sense of self. He’ll end up thinking that his life has no worth.” This doesn’t even need to be read as an explicitly otaku sentiment either. Buying into the equivalent of a pre-packaged frozen microwavable dinner expecting it to sustain one’s existence in a meaningful way sells short the value of the individual. Maybe romance could mean something to you, but to us maniacs it’s insignificant. We see beyond the looking-glass to gaze upon something truly beautiful- something for us alone to admire. We know that nothing of true value can be held in three-dimensions. We hold our heads high in triumph: “Hurray for 2D loving otaku!” (二次元好きオタク万歳). No reservation and no hesitation in our voices, not withholding any deeper secrets. We, unlike Souta, have no emotional bonds to hold us back. Thus we are limitless, liberated.
Writing with such sweeping grandeur about absurd topics like “3DPD” is understandably hard to take seriously for some, inviting that skeptical viewer to raise an eyebrow, perhaps wondering why I think the way I do. Maybe you want to psychoanalyze me so I’ll save you the effort and do the job for you: when I was in high school I struggled with understanding my own emotions, much less the emotions of others, and never made a real human connection. The girls I tried to get close with were the result of my own perceived isolation, and what I really wanted was some sort of tether to humanity-- officially binding this relationship in the form of a romantic contract that would make me feel more human. Realizing this later disgusted me. Eventually I stopped caring the more I learned to understand the lies that being alone wasn’t a bad thing. By the time someone tried to extend their hand to me I had long-since grown apathetic to romance and rejected her advances. I didn’t reject romance because of learned indifference, I rejected it once I learned to be so much more than someone who means something to someone else. I know why I first took this stance in my antagonism of romance, but it is no longer the reason why I still believe so strongly in it.
Two years ago now I willingly scheduled a number of appointments with a therapist for something somewhat unrelated and inconsequential to this story. The punchline was that it was entirely a waste of money, however, its value wasn’t entirely lost. I learned that I knew myself better than even my previously-generous estimations. Most people tend to overthink things about themselves, wondering why or how they made certain decisions or why they feel a certain way. I spent the better part of my adolescence reading myself like a book. If you cannot be honest with yourself and address the darkest corners of your psyche head-on, could you ever be honest with anyone? This lady sitting across could understand but she could never hope to truly accept my thinking. In what world could a money-paying basket case be let loose into the world in good faith by a licensed professional with any sort of mutual understanding? In the end these therapy sessions only resulted in reinforcing my persona. I exited the office for the last time one November afternoon, and had I know them at the time, I would surely have held these words close to my heart: 二次元好きオタク万歳. The inevitable publication of my 「神のみぞ知るセカイ」 manifesto will be the capstone to all these years of aggressively writing anime blogs, antagonizing an invisible enemy (maybe that enemy is the man I used to be). I know most of this falls upon deaf ears, but ultimately my goal is to share my unfiltered thoughts in a world castrated by standardized narratives. I don’t want people to see otaku only as fictional characters-- I want to show you that being an otaku means something, and that we believe in something. Maybe these blogs will eventually be meaningful strangers out there, as the words of Honda-san once were to me, and they will gain the confidence to be the person they always wanted to be.
