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Dec 16, 2025
The Crusade of the Innocents is an extremely delicate subject to address, all the more so for an Orthodox Christian like myself, given what the narrative conveys—particularly on a theological and historical level, which, let us be honest, is deeply problematic. Nevertheless, I will attempt to express my thoughts with sincerity and restraint.
Art: 8.5 / 10
Artistically speaking, Usamaru Furuya’s style is immediately recognizable. While remaining grounded in a certain realism, there is something profoundly unsettling in the gaze of his characters. Their large eyes sometimes seem devoid of humanity, creating an uncanny valley effect that is both fascinating and disturbing.
The artwork is magnificent and visually
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dense, often filled with intricate details. Some scenes, occasionally raw or violent, may nevertheless unsettle certain readers, whether through depictions of death or other deliberately harrowing moments.
Story: 7 / 10
Development: 8 / 10
Characters: 10 / 10
It is very clearly on a narrative level that this manga proves divisive. The line is thin between those who will see in it a powerful and tragic story, and those who will judge it excessively disturbing—a reaction I fully understand.
Having already encountered Usamaru Furuya’s narrative style, it is true that the blending of explicit sexual immorality with sacred and deeply religious Christian elements can be deeply off-putting. Without delving into plot details in order to avoid spoilers, I nonetheless perceived many parallels between Étienne’s journey and that of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and I believe these connections are entirely intentional.
In order to clarify my point, it is necessary to briefly recall the broad outline of the story. We follow a deeply tragic narrative centered on a young child designated as the “Son of God”—a title which, in Christian tradition, applies solely to Christ Himself. This child is entrusted with a mission: to deliver Jerusalem, accompanied by his “twelve apostles” and the Children’s Crusade. Yet this journey, which begins under seemingly favorable circumstances, leads only to an ever-growing succession of tragedies.
These children suffer the full force of the ignominy and perversity of the adult world: between those who seek to exploit them for personal glory and those who wish to satisfy their most sordid impulses—Hugo being the most chilling example. Étienne’s twelve “apostles” are the first victims of this violence, forced into catastrophic choices simply to survive, torn apart by jealousy, hatred, pride, and fear.
The story also addresses intra-religious conflicts that, in different forms, still exist today, notably through the Vaudois and the Cathars. And all of this leads, inevitably, to a sacrifice.
Yet despite the many theological inconsistencies—there can be no second Son of God—and historical inaccuracies—the Vaudois and the Cathars never fought one another, the latter in fact criticizing the Catholic Church—I cannot help but read this manga as a kind of pseudo-allegory of Christ’s ministry, viewed through a purely human lens.
Where Christ is both fully man and fully God, Étienne and the other children are merely human beings: fallible, sinful, fragile. The story thus highlights the impossibility for man alone to bear a burden that exceeds his condition. The children—and Étienne in particular—carry upon their shoulders an immense weight that only Christ can bear without faltering.
Certain events within the manga, notably unexplained miracles, further reinforce this symbolic reading. Yet where this fictional story leads only to disaster and unjust tragedy, the life of Christ—and above all His crucifixion followed by His resurrection—led to our liberation. Through the sacrifice of the Absolute Innocent, He who committed no sin, Christ bore upon the Cross the sins of humanity, so that “whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:15).
Conclusion
Some will undoubtedly think that this reading is excessive, or even that I am overreaching—and I can understand that. But if this story moves you, if it troubles you through its injustice and cruelty—and I sincerely recommend it, for it is truly unique and emotionally powerful—then I invite you to learn more about Christ, who died for us so that we might truly live.
Amen.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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Oct 3, 2025
Warm. That's the first word that comes to mind to describe this special little series, which has found a place in my heart over the course of these twelve weeks.
Animation: 8
Artistic direction: 10
Visually, With You and the Rain doesn't impress with the fluidity of its animation, but with its delicate and soothing aesthetic. Each shot, almost “Instagrammable,” exudes simplicity and tranquility. The art direction, seemingly classic, actually hides a soft and consistent visual identity that enhances the atmosphere.
Atmosphere: 10
Music: 10
This is where the series shines the most. With You and the Rain is an anime to be savored like a hot cup of tea on
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an autumn evening, curled up under a blanket with a sleeping cat on your lap. The music, discreet but captivating, accompanies this atmosphere of serenity. I remember a melody from episode 12, both simple and moving, which left a lasting impression on me.
Story: 10
Development: 10
I know that many will disagree with me here. But for me, behind a seemingly simple and anecdotal plot, With You and the Rain hides a real treasure: a love letter to those little moments of twilight peace. Those moments when the sunlight gently warms your skin, when the smell of rain soothes you, when everything seems strangely light.
The series is built around small scenes from everyday life between Fuji and You. Nothing spectacular, nothing dramatic. Just two people who are complete opposites, and who, together, find a form of serenity. Fuji, initially cold and distant, gradually reveals a great sensitivity, brought out by You, this expressive and terribly endearing “dog.” Their strange duo manages to move and soothe the soul in a way that only very rare stories are capable of.
With You and the Rain is a series that won't appeal to everyone: some will find it too slow, too minor. But for those who are willing to let themselves be carried away, it offers a gentle, touching, and unforgettable experience.
If you're looking for a story of cuteness, warmth, and gentle rain, look no further. As for me, I'll read the sequel if the opportunity arises, while hoping for a new season. In the meantime, I'm going to miss Fuji and You terribly...
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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Oct 3, 2025
I see that my little darling, Uchuujin Muumuu, is being unfairly criticized by many here. Let me set the record straight.
Animation: 8
Artistic direction: 7
Technically, nothing spectacular, but OLM delivers a sparkling series that is pleasing to the eye and accessible to all ages. The artistic direction plays on the absurd by deliberately emphasizing the childish side, both in the visual aesthetics and in the musical accompaniment.
Story: 8
Development: 8
Learning: 10
The story is presented as a “B” series: an alien arrives to use Earth to his advantage, but ends up discovering that what he can learn from humans is worth more than that. Nothing revolutionary, then, but
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it's effective. The character development, although classic, succeeds in making each member of the GERH club unique and endearing. Their colorful personalities create such a warm group dynamic that you almost feel like you're part of the team. The only slight downside is a few discreet ecchi touches, which may put off the more prudish viewers.
But the main point is elsewhere: Uchuujin Muumuu shines above all for its educational value. Thanks to characters like Tenkubashi, each episode becomes an opportunity for fascinating discussions about everyday technologies that we tend to ignore. The explanations, vivid and sometimes exaggerated, are clear enough to captivate while conveying real knowledge. You come away having learned something, and above all with a new perspective on the world around you.
All in all, Uchuujin Muumuu is a wacky, funny, and informative series. It will entertain young and old alike, while perhaps awakening in some a new curiosity for this very special science.
As for me, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a second season. But until then, I'll miss this little weekly rendezvous, just like I'll miss this cheerful gang. This isn't goodbye, just see you later.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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Oct 3, 2025
So, Dekin no Mogura is definitely a UFO in this season, for me. Nothing I've seen among all the anime I've watched recently comes close to it, or barely. Maybe GeGeGe no Kitaro, but the latter focuses much more on Japanese folklore and horror. Here, we get a rather unique mix of absurdity, horror stories, and wacky slice of life. And I understand that it's not everyone's cup of tea. So let's go through it point by point.
Animation: 6.5
Artistic direction: 9
Technically, nothing mind-blowing. The animation is standard for a classic slice of life series: lots of static shots during the pseudo-fights, a few brief animated
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sequences, and that's it. On the other hand, I was completely charmed by the art direction. It has a style all its own, which gives the series a unique visual identity. The pastel style fits perfectly with the comic-horror atmosphere of the work.
Story: 7
Development: 6
In terms of the script, there's nothing unforgettable. I should warn you: despite a few interesting themes being explored, particularly in the last episode, the story tends to follow an old-fashioned “Scooby-Doo” format, with a short investigation or paranormal case per episode. That said, I really enjoyed these twelve weeks spent with the gang solving various ghost stories. It's a shame, however, that the real lore surrounding Mogura is only developed at the end of the season.
Ultimately, despite its limitations, I recommend giving this anime a chance and letting yourself be tempted by this gloomy and zany alleyway, where the strange mingles with the burlesque.
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Oct 1, 2025
Sword of the Demon Hunter has not been unanimously well received by viewers. And, even though I really enjoyed this series, I have to admit that some of the criticism is justified. But let's take it point by point.
Story: 8
Characters: 8
Development: 8
At first glance, you might think this is a classic tale of samurai and demons. And in a sense, that's true: the anime doesn't seek to revolutionize the genre. However, through the character of Jinya, powerful themes emerge, such as our relationship with time and our value as parents.
The storyline is sometimes disjointed, but the characters evolve naturally: Jinya, in particular, goes from being
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a vengeful beast to a more nuanced man. It is this human development that gives the work a certain uniqueness and makes it worth watching.
Animation: 4
Artistic direction: 6
But where Sword of the Demon Hunter stumbles is on the technical side. Like Ao no Miburo or Witch and the Beast (from the same studio), it starts with a solid introductory episode before sinking into poor animation: static shots, awkward proportions, lackluster fights. It's a shame, because the story deserved an adaptation that did it justice.
Despite these weaknesses, I still have a real fondness for this anime, which kept me company throughout the summer. Those who can look past the form will discover an atypical and endearing work. And who knows? Maybe the future will bring us a sequel worthy of its potential.
Reviewer’s Rating: 7
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Sep 20, 2025
In a lively summer landscape dominated by giants such as Gachiakuta and Dandadan, it's easy to overlook more modest series. Onmyo Kaiten Re:birth is one of them. A title that, without claiming to revolutionize the medium, nevertheless manages to stand out and deserves our attention.
Animation: 7.5
Artistic direction: 8
Visually, David Production delivers a respectable performance. The animation is decent, although the use of CGI may put some people off. The artistic direction, on the other hand, appeals with its discreet charm and helps to create an engaging atmosphere. Musically, the score is fairly unobtrusive, except for a striking choral OST that intensely accompanies the final confrontation.
Story:
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9
Development: 5.5
Characters: 7
One of the strengths of the series lies in its script concept, which is reminiscent of Re:Zero in some respects, without reproducing its mechanics ad nauseam. Here, each “journey” through time has its own consequences, which are distinct enough to renew the plot and offer the viewer an ever-changing vision of Denji Heiankyo.
Furthermore, this blend of tradition and modern technology brings to life a unique universe that is both exotic and familiar.
Unfortunately, where the series disappoints is in the development of its secondary characters and the handling of certain narrative concepts, which are too convoluted to be fully effective. The format would undoubtedly have benefited from a few additional episodes to flesh out this complex universe and enrich the portrayal of its protagonists.
But despite these reservations, Onmyo Kaiten Re:birth remains a pleasant surprise. By venturing into the delicate realm of time travel, the anime manages to offer a compelling experience, punctuated by an original universe and a more ambitious storyline than it appears. A “hidden gem”? Perhaps, as long as you accept its imperfections.
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Aug 8, 2025
The name Old Boy had been ringing in my ears for a long time. Sometimes praised, sometimes criticized, it intrigued me without ever fully drawing me in. It must be said that at a time when new releases follow one another at a frenetic pace, often more flashy than profound, it becomes difficult to focus on an older, more discreet work. But one day, while out walking, I stumbled upon the French double edition. One glance, one impulse. It was, without exaggeration, one of my best decisions as a reader.
Old Boy offered me a story of rare density and raw intensity—as only the thrillers of
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the 1980s knew how to do. Here's why it deserves your full attention.
Drawings: 9/10
Minegishi Shinmei does not seek to impress with his artwork, but he captures the essence: the atmosphere. His style accurately reflects the darkness of the story. Every glance, every silence carries weight. We physically feel what the characters are going through. And from time to time, true tableaux emerge: panels that, in an instant, reveal a harsh, nocturnal, inaccessible Tokyo. A Tokyo that we observe without ever fully understanding it, like the story itself.
Cutting: 9/10
The pacing is masterful from start to finish. It builds suspense with surgical precision, alternating between restrained tension and explosive revelations. Each panel seems designed to strike at just the right moment, without ever resorting to cheap spectacle. We move forward with the constant feeling of being manipulated—and that's exactly what we expect from a good thriller.
Story: 9.5/10
The story may seem simple: a man locked up for ten years for no apparent reason, then released. He seeks to understand, to take revenge. But very quickly, this starting point shifts into a much more complex mind game, bordering on madness. A mental game of hide-and-seek where each answer creates new areas of uncertainty.
The great strength of the story lies in its handling of information: we move forward, we think we are making progress, but with each step, the truth seems to recede. Like Goto, we are guided, trapped, shaken up. And above all, we wait for that key element—the one that the author carefully hides from us—which will redefine everything we thought we understood.
Development: 10/10
The story doesn't just unfold its mystery. It evolves, tightens, and becomes denser. The dialogues become more tense, the confrontations more intimate, and each character gains depth. The script never talks down to us; it includes us in this perverse chess game, the rules of which we can barely guess.
Characters: 10/10
This is where Old Boy reaches its peak. Goto, the protagonist, embodies raw, silent, dignified masculinity—a man shaped by pain, but who never breaks. He is no superhero. He is a man who takes hits, who falls, but who gets back up. An old-fashioned figure, the likes of which we no longer see.
Opposite him, Dojima, the sadistic, omniscient, intangible master of the game, embodies the perfect adversary. He is intellect versus strength, control versus resistance. And between them gravitate secondary characters who are never mere extras: Kusama, Eri... they all have a function, a flaw, a weight in the balance of the story. They are not there to serve the plot, they are the plot.
Above all, their relationships are disturbingly realistic: conflictual, ambiguous, painful—deeply human.
Atmosphere: 9.5/10
Old Boy has a rare and authentic atmosphere, made up of silences and glances. It is not gratuitous nostalgia for the 1980s, but rather a fidelity to a time when stories took the time to build strong characters, marked by life rather than bravado.
We could talk for hours about Old Boy. About its subtle writing, its metaphors, its mounting tension. But that would betray the experience that the manga offers: an intimate dive into the dark corners of the human soul, unvarnished and unfiltered.
Where Park Chan-Wook and Spike Lee have delivered very personal film adaptations—one disturbing and perverse, the other... forgettable—the original manga stands out for its realism and humanity. There is no spectacular revenge here. Just a slow, inevitable descent into a truth as cold as it is shocking.
In short, Old Boy will leave no one indifferent. It is a story that leaves a mark, that works silently, that leaves traces.
And for that, I would like to thank Goto, Dojima, and all the others.
Give it a chance. Read Old Boy.
(And above all, don't watch Spike Lee's version.)
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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Jul 11, 2025
It's been two years since I began my ascent alongside Buntarô Mori. And today, as I close this last volume, I'm leaving a part of myself behind. This manga wasn't just a read: it was an intimate and demanding journey, an experience that moved me far beyond what I could have imagined.
Kokou no Hito tells the story of a man who climbs alone. A taciturn, haunted mountaineer who shuns the world as much as he tries to join it. But behind the harshness of the effort and the icy walls, this manga explores a much deeper struggle: that of making his dreams coexist with reality,
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of wresting from solitude a reason to live.
Visually, the work is masterful. The layout is clean, the double-page spreads dizzying, and the mountain landscapes are raw canvases where silence screams. Sakamoto develops a graphic style that is both rough and sublime, sincere. It's a drawing that breathes, that creaks, that soars.
But what makes Kokou no Hito so unique is its ability to plunge us into the fractured mind of its protagonist. Buntarô is a character at odds with himself. The manga never idealizes his pain: it dissects it. It shows how obsession, madness and silence can become companions in his ascent, as heavy as gravity itself.
We could talk at length about the psychology of the characters - Hana, Takemura, Mori above all - all built with impressive accuracy. We could talk about the way choices, regrets and traumas are interwoven with altitude. But we must also emphasize what the story says about the real world: about Japan, social pressure, isolation, the difficulty of existing outside imposed frameworks.
The world of mountaineering is never idealized. It's harsh, brutal, merciless. Like Japanese society, it doesn't spare the weak. And yet, it is precisely in this adversity that Kokou no Hito finds its light: that of a man who decides, despite everything, to keep climbing.
I could go on and on. But I prefer to let you discover for yourself this powerful, sometimes rough, but profoundly human work. For Kokou no Hito is not just about its peaks or its realism: it's a tale of inner reconciliation. It taught me that our dreams don't have to be put on hold for our daily lives to be livable. They can become part of it, anchored in it, and pull us up, despite our scars.
So if you haven't read it yet, don't hesitate. Dive in. Climb up. And let Buntarô show you that, even alone, even wounded, we can still move forward.
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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Jul 5, 2025
My review will be a little different this time. I'm not just going to list the qualities of this manga as I usually do. No, far from it. Because Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou deserves a special, almost intimate treatment.
From the very first pages, it's clear that this work won't suit everyone. As I already mentioned in my review of its OVA, this manga has neither a Dantesque narrative nor epic confrontations. It doesn't seek to upset the conventions of the genre. In fact, there isn't a single action scene in its 140 chapters. And to many, that might seem a major drawback. How, then, can such
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a quiet tale achieve such beauty?
Everything rests precisely on this tranquility, on this gentle, enveloping ataraxia. In this almost dreamlike calm, Ashinano invites us to contemplate a world that is familiar, yet strangely distant. There's no need for dramatic tension here. It's the everyday moments, taken one by one, that tell the story. A cup of coffee, the sound of the wind, an impromptu visit: all fragments of eternity.
And in these fragments, Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou modestly asks a host of questions about the passage of time, about our way of existing, about the discreet tenderness we owe our loved ones and our environment. For Ashinano's real message seems to be this: savor the present. Cherish what surrounds us. Listen to the silence, and look at simple things before they fade away. Time here is like a tide: sometimes swift as a breeze, sometimes suspended like a drop on the edge of oblivion.
The whole is carried along by an enveloping atmosphere and a drawing of rare warmth, which lulls and comforts. Reading this manga is a bit like sitting on a terrace at the end of summer, in the golden evening light. There's silence, gentleness and a profound candor.
What makes this journey truly unforgettable are its characters. Alpha, of course, but also Makki, Taka, Misago, Ayase, Kokone, Papi... All, in their own way, accompany us to the end of the day. They are the ones who give this ruined world its last light. And if this world is gradually fading, it does so with a rare dignity, like an old piano whose notes still linger in the air.
I could go on and on about the discreet but evocative science-fiction aspect, the progressive graphic and narrative evolution, always with finesse. But that would probably be too much. And I'd rather not reveal anything more, to give everyone the chance to discover this suspended world at their own pace.
So don't think too much, and let yourself be carried away by the melody of Alpha's Lute-Moon. Give yourself a break, a breath, a look out the window. Perhaps you too will find a little peace in this little corner of paradise soberly named “Café Alpha”.
As for me, I leave with a heavy, but grateful heart. This story touched me deeply. It taught me to slow down, to observe, to feel without urgency. And if I close this last volume with sadness today, I know I'll be back. For a coffee, for a smile, for a suspended moment.
So, before I go... Taka, Makki, Misago, Ayase, Kokone, Papi... and especially you, dear Alpha: thank you from the bottom of my heart for your welcome. You've given me much more than a reading experience. You gave me a moment of life.
This story will remain engraved in my soul forever.
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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Jun 30, 2025
My review will be shorter than usual. I'll just touch briefly on a few points which, unfortunately, left me with a bitter taste.
I had high expectations of Lazarus. Firstly, because it is directed by Shinichirō Watanabe, who is responsible for such outstanding works as Cowboy Bebop, Samurai Champloo and Terror in Resonance - series with a strong identity, both musically and narratively. And because, with MAPPA in charge of animation, we could expect a real visual success.
And in a sense, Lazarus delivers on its promises. The animation is superb, as you'd expect. The fights are fluidly choreographed, the music is, once again, highly polished, and
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the universe is full of appealing visual ideas. The intriguing opening story makes you want to see what happens next.
But beyond these surface qualities, I found the series frustrating. Rich in appearance, but poor in depth.
The world presented doesn't benefit from any real development. It remains an aesthetic but hollow setting. As for the plot, it seems to vacillate between several directions, without ever fully exploring any of them. The characters, though endearing on paper, lack depth. Their pasts are barely hinted at, and their character traits are barely asserted.
I had the unpleasant impression of being faced with a calibrated, almost banal production - a visually effective series, but without any real soul. And that, I think, is what bothered me most: not finding that passion, that human touch that Watanabe used to bring to his stories.
Certain elements of the story are rushed through, or even abandoned along the way. As for the ending... I found it rushed and frankly disappointing (I won't say anything about it here, so as not to spoil what little pleasure remains).
The comparison with Cowboy Bebop is obvious. *Lazarus* seems to want to recapture the alchemy of Cowboy Bebop - in the atmosphere, the music, the universe, and even through certain characters. But the result often sounds too much like a copycat, lacking the sincerity, authenticity and breath of the original work. Axel, in particular, is reminiscent of Spike right down to his body language... without ever having the same depth.
I wouldn't advise against Lazarus outright. Some may find it to their liking. But if you're new to Watanabe, I'd encourage you to turn to his previous works, which are much richer, more unique and more memorable.
Reviewer’s Rating: 6
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