Over the course of myriad e-sojourns to the furthermost reaches of the internet, barren and dust-ridden, a particular type of aesthetic has flourished magnificently in all its effervescent verdure. Through idly traversing from one digital outpost to the other, what I have witnessed emerged is a confluence of sugary vibrance and girlish whimsy enveloped in ethereal pastel hues, where beneath its charming façade lurks a festering darkness. Not so much a style as an extension of our very beings, a shadow becomes inextricably twined with blinding radiance, coiling around our hearts. It speaks to those with Mukou Aoi plastered all over their Neocities, Darling Dance sullently listened to on a 3 A.M. loop, heels scrubbed raw from uncomfortable, ill-fitting platforms. Possessing an oddly reassuring quality, it serves as a conduit for those seeking solace amidst the disquietude of contemporary society, at once becoming a beacon guiding us through the tumultuous sea that is simply existing. It’s this nebulous allure which serves as a reflective canvas for the oftentimes turbulent emotions swirling within.

I first became acquainted with Akiyama Enma’s Picrew several years back, in which I devoted a considerable length of time to crafting designs for a hypothetical story that would ultimately go unrealized. Elongated lashes, swirling tendrils of hair, and saturated tones captivated my imagination, luring me into lofty reveries of distorted, surreal architecture unnervingly juxtaposed against candy-coloured skies. It is the same sense of uncanny and comfort which can be found in the canon of the feminine grotesque: a welcome embrace by blood-smeared hands.

As I’ve begun reacquainting myself with otaku media, I have in turn been reading more manga (or, well, at least trying to – you know how it goes). To my pleasant surprise, I recently learned that the very same Akiyama whose aesthetic enamoured me so had a number of serializations tucked under her belt. So, I went about reading them.

Killing Me (2017) presented itself as a relatively light-hearted yuri venture suffused with a vampiric twist. A far cry from Le Fanu, in spite of affable leads Killing Me felt positively anaemic; drops of blood drained alongside any potential it may have held. Stumbling through predictable motions, it was eventually dropped which I can’t say came as a surprise. I wanted something with a little more bite. Disappointed though I felt, I was by no means deterred. I was intrigued to then discover that Akiyama was currently engaged in what ostensibly appeared to be a tawdry Weekly Young Jump romcom, another entry in the ever-expanding landscape of wish-fulfilment girlfriend narratives dragged howling from the vaults. Curiously eyeing the 640+ Amazon reviews for the first volume of Noa-senpai wa Tomodachi/Noa Is My Senior, and My Friend (2023), I found myself struck by the apparent unease that its titular character instilled in a number of readers. Eager to unravel such a benign mystery, I felt compelled to delve deeper into its pages to uncover the truth behind Noa’s (allegedly) disconcerting presence.

With finesse and poise, 27-year-old Noa certainly appears to expertly embody the archetypal senpai role, serving as the stalwart overseer of a game company. Commanding admiration for both her prowess as lead art director and willingness to support colleagues, Noa firmly establishes herself as an ever-reliable bastion within their company’s organizational framework. Naturally, such an immaculately fashioned façade which she strives to uphold is at stark odds with who she is off the clock, as potential love interest-cum-colleague Rihito quickly learns.

Torn away from the rigid constraints of her desk, Noa readily succumbs to bouts of weepy inebriation, grappling with perceived developmental inadequacies juxtaposed against the apparent success of her peers. Agonizing over being too much, too clingy, which results in having but a single internet friend to call her own. Engaging in spirited debates over her favourite anime character, taking photos of said favourite’s acrylic stands at fancy cafes, and excessively indulging in gacha further paint Noa as a dyed-in-the-wool otaku. However, what exactly about her character seems to unsettle readers lingers in the pages of Noa, inviting ourselves to take a closer look at our own behaviour.

Noa emerges as an achingly contemporary and disruptive figure contextualized within a post-Riamu bishoujoscape, marring the tawdry wish-fulfilment girlfriend paradigm with a level of authenticity that gleefully smears the subgenre’s immaculately fashioned veneer. While the public-private duality inherent to such a model is undeniable, Noa’s public-facing professional façade and private otaku skittishness blend harmoniously to craft a dynamic and relatable character. Her existence underscores the universal experiences and struggles inherent to navigating the intricacies of modernity and the oftentimes complex roles we play. While elements of her behaviour are magnified for comedic effect, she nevertheless is fundamentally deserving of the reader’s compassion.

Armed with a degree of trepidation, as individuals we collectively navigate the complexities of social spheres, each nuance-laden domain characterized by expectations. Within these domains, masks expertly crafted to align with the requirements of each respective environment are deftly wielded. How we behave amongst family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and partners differ significantly, in turn reflecting the profoundly multifaceted nature inherent to human interaction.

Within the professional sphere, I can identify with how Noa strives to maintain a graceful façade of competence and dependability. Tucked away within the sordid annals of Discord, I can identify with Noa waxing lyrical regarding cherished otaku darlings amongst fandom comrades-in-arms. Within my own relationship, where vulnerabilities are laid bare, I can identify with Noa’s feelings of insecurity as she grapples with the prospect of being Too Much. I can also identify with the reassurance which she receives, in which she is told that she is not – Noa is instead cherished, and advised to not change who she is.

As am I.

Seeing Noa experience similar feelings proves to be a curiously affirming experience, which puzzles me all the more why countless readers seem to be wary of her heart-on-sleeve zeal. A previous work of Akiyama’s took a particular shift which may be influencing certain opinions, but as of the second volume Noa is firmly contextualized within this fluffy otaku romcom framework that I cannot see it moving beyond. And I am absolutely fine with that.

return