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If love is sweet then unrequited love is bittersweet. It's difficult to take the next step—confessing—especially when the other party doesn't swing for the same team that you do. It's not just admitting that you like the other person, it's stepping out of the closet and risking the chance that the other person may not be able to view you the same way anymore. And even in the best case scenario, is it still possible to be friends at the end?

Deguchi is a self-confident, charismatic office worker that satisfies his carnal urges through one-night stands. But perchance he happens to meet Onoda through a mutual ... acquaintance, which, much to his chagrin, sparks a one-sided and unrequited love for a kind, gentle man that seems all but oblivious to Deguchi's interest in him.

The development between the two is gradual and satisfying, and despite there being large gaps between the chapters (three years apparently have passed by about chapter four or five), the pacing is impeccable. It can be said that the trope of “gay man and straight man” tends to be overused, but Yoneda Kou pulls it off flawlessly. Onoda doesn't immediately fall for Deguchi, it's a struggle for him from the very beginning to even comprehend how a relationship between them would ever work.

Which brings us to the characters themselves, which are fleshed out nicely for such a short one volume manga. Particularly because Yoneda actually gives them development as well. Deguchi starts out as somewhat cynical about others and can come across as, at times, bitter. Onoda on the other hand seems like a spineless jellyfish that eventually grows himself a backbone, particularly with Deguchi.

All of this combined with Yoneda's gorgeous crisp, clean, and captivating art, if you liked Doushitemo Furetakunai, you will adore this. If you're a yaoi fan that appreciates that love can, at times, be accompanied by pain as well, then you will no doubt enjoy this. It's every bit as good as the original story that it stems from.

The grave mistake here is that this manga isn't correctly tagged as psychological—which it should be. Yet even without that tag, it almost requires a warning label. There is a high chance it will make your stomach churn, why? Because this manga portrays an abusive relationship—one built on hate, guilt, repression, and resentment. The foundation of their relationship is deceit, which makes it rocky and unstable. This series neither excuses nor glorifies the abuse, however, if only because the abuse is so apparent and outrageous that it's impossible for you not to feel squicky about it.

There is no denying that Umi is sick and twisted. ... What he does and how he treats Beniko is inexcusable to any ordinary human being. Yet the more sadistic he treats her, the more pleasure she starts to derive from it. This doesn't make her a consenting individual, of course, but there is development between them in the way you would expect of a seriously twisted psychological romance.

While it's easy to pass Beniko off as “weak” and “indecisive,” I would more so say that as a product of her own grief and guilt, for the sake of her own sanity, she accommodates Umi's sadism through necessity by becoming a masochist. The whole point of this being a psychological manga is to look deeper than the face value, which can be difficult when it's easy to feel so disgusted by both of the main characters.

The art does an amazing job of portraying the emotions, and the frames and dialogue are as creepy as Umi himself. There is a psychological feel to the manga that leaves you groping for answers—for better or worse, it never really sates your curiosity completely. Is that perhaps plot holes that the mangaka carelessly left behind, or legitimate parts of the manga that are left up to the viewer's interpretation?

This is a difficult manga to rate only on account of it having nearly illegible scans for the last volume, which made the ambiguities even more ambiguous. That said, it's easy to write this off as a crappy shoujo romance—if that's all it is intended to be. But what it's supposed to be may all depend on what kind of mindset you approach it with. Is it an intriguing psychological romance with a sick, twisted relationship that can only be defined as “love”? Or is it just another series that glorifies abuse?

A high school setting, a sudden confession from a persistent guy, and the whirlwind of young love that ensues. This sounds like every cliche shoujo premise you've ever read, doesn't it? But while the plot is simplistic and predictable, My Hero actually succeeds in making the same old cliches a little more palatable because it does something very different.

The male lead in this manga is not popular, he's not a bishounen—he doesn't fit any of the usual cliches. Instead, he's the dorky, earnest, hardworking guy that isn't very popular. In fact, he's the type of character you'd see in a love triangle in one of ... the more popular shoujos—and he would be the one that loses. This type of character always loses.

In regards to the heroine, she's not particularly exceptional herself, but she's does give the male lead a chance without dismissing him. Granted she's a little taken aback by his enthusiasm, and sometimes a little on the tsundere side, she's also very earnest herself. As a couple, they have good chemistry and are easy to root for.

Since it's such a short story, the plot itself basically follows the two of them. There's no exceptional line of character development—there's not much time for it, although it does exist. Sometimes the skipping in the timeline can be a little confusing, but considering the material, it's not too hard to catch up and understand what's going on.

The art is fairly average by my assessments. The lines are clean, however, and there's no exceptionally wonky body proportions. Considering that the male lead is fairly plain, this isn't going to be an "eye candy" manga.

My Hero proves a refreshing read as something that carries none of the unnecessarily angsty obstacles. It's straightforward, it's fluffy, light, and enjoyable. Don't expect anything too deep going in and you won't be disappointed.

"You're my daytime shooting star."

Falling in love has been likened many times to being on a rollercoaster—it has its ups, its downs, its twists and turns. But an amusement park ride always comes to an end eventually, then you're left to wait in a long line before you get the opportunity to ride again. That metaphor is strangely appropriate, especially for this manga. It's not just about falling in love the first time—it's about picking up the pieces when the first time doesn't work, and eventually learning how to fall in love again.

The synopsis is deceptively simplistic in that it reads like any other school, ... slice of life shoujo manga you have ever seen. Suzume is a country bumpkin that moves to the city, and the mysterious man that helps her when she gets lost in the cement jungle happens to be her homeroom teacher. It would only sound more cliche if there was some romantic development between the two. Well, of course there is—its a romance manga, after all.

HnR is not bereft of any of the cliches that plague the shoujo genre, but it does avoid the gag-inducing pitfalls that a lot of them succumb to. However just because something avoids doing something common and boring doesn't inherently mean that it is good. What makes this series something of a gem is that it succeeds where many of its predecessors and peers have failed.

It has a compelling cast that encompasses even the most minor side characters. Almost everyone is multi-faceted and receives some level of development, even those more peripheral to the story. Shishio is an incredibly unique character in just how childish and immature given that he's a teacher, and just because he's an adult doesn't mean he's immune to making mistakes or poor decisions. If anything he exemplifies poor decision making, but that's part of being human. Suzume on the other hand is incredibly mature if not a bit clueless at times. The series is highly devoted to her development in learning what it means to love someone, because love is not something so simple as the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach when you see the person you like. Loving someone is making sacrifices, is being honest—so much more than she is initially prepared for.

Mamura, for his part, is an interesting foil to Shishio. He is not unflawed, and in fact spends the majority of the story learning how to be a more open person when he's initially so shut off from everyone else. Suzume opens his eyes to the rest of the world, and gradually he's able to be a little more honest with himself. He's not without his moments of childishness, but he matches those with moments of wisdom as well. Mamura is someone who is incredibly perceptive and observant, especially when it comes to Suzume.

In regards to the plot, we are presented with the trope of student-teacher but it's not dealt with as typically or flippantly, in fact it's incredibly realistic for a shoujo manga. Angst is not present in this story for the sake of angst, but because this is how real life works—this is what happens when two people enter a relationship when neither one of them are fully prepared for or aware of what it means to love someone when the rest of society would look down on you for it. In fact, that's never the only obstacle when you love someone. Your love also means the scrutiny of the people around you, the people who care about you and may be concerned about your relationship. The fact is, there aren't always happy endings to every love tale, most of them are bittersweet. We hurt, we learn, we move on. That is exactly the essence of this story—learning not to hang on to the past, learning that true happiness means moving forward.

The art for HnR is phenomenal, not just because it is beautiful and clean. But because every panel is expressively constructed, and each page has little tidbits in the background that give you deeper insight into the characters—all of whom are individually flawed with their own set of strengths. Even their designs are unique enough that you will not have any trouble differentiating between each character. It's clear that Yamamori-sensei went to great length to ensure each character was fleshed out in even minor ways. She is incredibly talented especially at the emotional scenes, where the dialogue and the panels so clearly convey much more emotion than what's given on the surface.

This has been a third revision for this review as I took some time after finishing the series to really contemplate its strengths, weaknesses, and how well it fulfilled its potential. A love triangle is not a popular trope, in fact it's something that most people generally tend to get annoyed at. It's overdone especially in shoujo, and so it's no surprise that many people will dislike this series because it utilizes that very cliche.

However, I contend that love triangles in other series feel contrived, superficial and serve only to drag out the plot and deliver unnecessary angst. This is not the purpose of this trope in HnR. It exists here as a integral part of the plot that serves not only to break the traditional mold of shoujo where the end pairing is obvious, but also to demonstrate an important point—moving on. Too many romance series focus on holding on to relationships when they only hurt you, whereas HnR focuses on moving on toward the future. It wasn't just a suspenseful device, although it certainly served the purpose of keeping us on pins and needles with bated breath 'til the very end, wondering who Suzume would truly end up with.

Having said all this and expressed why I am so satisfied and endorse this series so much, I feel it's only fair to admit that the end pairing was not the one I was hoping for in my heart of hearts, but it was the one that was necessary for this series to be as amazing as it is and for the characters to stay true to who they are. Yamamori has presented us with a realistic story of first love, how it comes with heartache and how you eventually learn to move on when that happens. And how you'll eventually understand what it means to be someone else's daytime shooting star.

If its premise is any indication, Dendrobates is incredibly simplistic. It's hard to call it woefully underwhelming when it does not setup much expectation from the onset. That said, it does have some merit for what it is—a largely episodic tale with a rinse-and-repeat layout that occasionally has smaller story arcs strewn out in-between. The overarching plot does leave the palate a bit unsatiated, because it is not developed or explored in enough depth at least to this author's taste, and it's a bit predictable if you've read much seinen or watched much anime in general. That said, the episodic parts are at least diverse ... and bring a unique story each and every time.

As the premise states, the plot is pretty straightforward. Sengawa is our anti-hero that is by day a clumsy, unsuspecting police accountant, and by night he is an assassin for hire that takes on jobs to deliver his own form of vigilante justice. This actually kind of interesting—and it is, for the first fifteen or so chapters. But the overarching plot itself is not actually addressed until much later in the course of the manga. At the very least, this does not distract from the enjoyment of watching our douchebag villains get knocked off in the most elaborate and gruesome of ways. Yet while there is satisfaction to be had through that, the plot is simply cut and dry. If I'm sounding repetitive by saying that, then I'm doing a good job of echoing the form of Dendrobates' plot.

That said, in the realm of characters—it does have some likeable characters. Most of them don't live very long, outside Sengawa and a few other policemen. Development, given the plot, is incredibly minimal. Arguably, it does not exist at all. From the onset, Sengawa is a murderer with something of a conscience. He seeks to right wrongs, to dispense justice where the justice system itself cannot or would not do so adequately enough. By the end, he's largely in the same position he started off in. And none of our other characters get much exploration themselves.

The art is perhaps the strongest point. It is clean, clear, and detailed. It's part of what makes this manga so easy to pick up and read. The frames are actually structured pretty flawlessly to help you follow along with all of the action scenes.

Ultimately, Dendrobates' biggest problem is development and character exploration. It's shallow, it's dry. It's like eating a snack rather than a meal—for a brief moment it is enjoyable, but it won't sit with you in the long run.

Despite positive initial impressions, the dark ambience and uniquely dark tone can only take you so far with an ending that drops out of nowhere like a lead balloon (don't worry, I'll spare you the gory details - AKA spoilers). Disappointment? Yes. Raging fangirls? I count myself in their numbers. Grab your torch and pitchfork, because if you have stuck with this manhwa since the beginning, you probably have a bone to pick with Lee Hyeon-Sook considering the subpar ending that was delivered. But watch your step, there are plot holes everywhere.

With a plot that does not deliver, Savage Garden strangely starts off with some ... promise. Initially we are introduced, just as the synopsis describes, to a school that, despite housing the well-to-do, has incredibly harsh hierarchy. Gabriel enters, impersonating her deceased childhood friend, and taking on the persona of “Jeremy.” Led by the promise of riches, “Jeremy” tries to lay low without invoking the wrath of some the more prominent – and cruel – noblemen that she dorms with.

As you can well predict, she inevitably lands herself in trouble and becomes tangled up with two brothers. The premise is a little misleading, however, because it eventually becomes a derailed train that crashes and burns.

In regards to the aforementioned plot holes, the author blatantly omits a lot of information in the latter half of the story, as we are suddenly thrust into the ending without any preparation. There is no leading up to it, no real resolutions in terms of the climax of the story. It just lands in our lap, incomplete and ill-conceived. My suspicions are that the author came to an impasse, with no motivation left for continuing, and decided to end prematurely. As a result, many questions were left unanswered and the ending left you wondering if you were still reading the same series.

The characters, who are both interesting and intriguing, are vaguely explored through the story. Once again, this is where the potential really shined through but inevitably fell short. Gabriel suddenly became the traditional damsel-in-distress whereas she had been a heroine with some measure of self-sufficiency in the beginning. Her desire to reclaim her pride from her status of fallen nobility, as a driving force, is far more realistic than the shallow reasons seen in other gender benders.

But, just as with Gabriel, the other characters either dropped out of the picture or were poorly utilized approaching the ending. Rather than feeling like real people, they felt like a means to an end – as though, rather than seeing through the story with the characters she had built and developed, the author used them as a tool to bring things to a close without considering the quality she was losing in doing so.

As for the art, it seems a bit more detailed and a step up from her previous works, which is definitely a positive. Among manhwa, her art stands out as well-proportioned and, in simple terms, very “pretty.” Even compared to many manga, Lee Hyeon-Sook has a very unique style that captivates. There is plenty of good eye candy.

So what is Savage Garden ultimately? A manhwa that initially stands out amongst its fellow creations but inevitably falls short as an underwhelming read with a disappointing ending. As much as it dispels age-old shoujo cliches, it wallows in its own depressing undertones and flickers out like an unnoticed flame.