Maison Ikkoku vol. 1
Back in the early days of my anime/manga fandom, a popular bit of trivia about mangaka Rumiko Takahashi was that she was the second-richest woman in Japan. It was an easy to believe factoid, too. She was the creator of long-running hits like “Urusei Yatsura,” “Ranma ½” and her current series, “Inuyasha,” was working its way up to becoming more popular than either of them. Now, the joking rejoinder to that bit of information that I and my friends traded in was that, “She didn’t get that way by writing short stories.” At 30+ volumes each, “Urusei” and “Ranma” might as well have been endlessly-running titles as they were being published as single issue comics at the time. Little did we know that “Inuyasha” would top them both at 50+, while her current series “Rin-ne” is already over 30 right now.
As you can guess by those titles, Takahashi clearly likes to stick around and explore every aspect of a series she’s created. Some would say that she likes to run them into the ground, but I didn’t stick around long enough on “Urusei” or “Ranma” to find out if that was the case. The one exception to this approach in her library is “Maison Ikkoku.” It ran for a comparatively svelte 14 volumes and is now being reprinted by Viz in a “Signature Edition.” By all accounts it’s the one series Takahashi has done where it didn’t read like she was trying to draw things out as long as possible. It’s why I’m checking it out now as opposed to “Urusei,” which is also being reissued in a similar format.
“Maison Ikkoku” stands out even more for being Takahashi’s most grounded ongoing title. While her other works have trafficked in body-swapping, exorcisms, time travel, obnoxious aliens, and a whole lot of fight scenes that involve these things, this title does not. It’s a small-scale, romantic comedy about the most hapless of hapless ronins, Yusaku Godai. Now, by “ronin,” I don’t mean masterless samurai. “Ronin” in this case is a derogatory nickname given to high school graduates who fail to get into college on their first try. That’s what happened to Godai and when the series begins he’s had it with his obnoxious neighbors in the Ikkoku-kan boarding house.
There’s the inscrutable Mr. Yotsuya who knocks holes in the wall between his and Godai’s rooms. Akemi works as a hostess at the local bar and exists in some liminal state between “drunk” and “slutty.” We only see two members of the Ichinose family here, boisterous mother Hanae and energetic son Kentaro here. All of them delight in picking on Godai both because it’s both easy and fun, and before he can completely storm out of Ikkoku-kan, he comes face-to-face with its new manager, Kyoko Otonashi.
For Godai, it’s love at first sight and just one more reason for him to get his life in order. For Kyoko, it’s considerably less. Especially after Yotsuya and Akemi conspire to reveal some key things about the ronin’s behavior during the welcome party they throw in his room for the new manager. Yet, it seems that Kyoko can’t help but care for Godai. Initially as the foolish little brother she never had, and then maybe a little more as this volume goes on.
As “Maison Ikkoku” is a romantic comedy, it stands to reason that it’s going to end with Godai and Kyoko becoming a proper couple, and maybe even tying the knot. You can see Takahashi pulling the strings as the two slowly grow closer over the course of this first volume. She’s good at it, but it can also feel like she’s forcing the issue here. That’s because Godai comes off as your average young man: Dumb, horny, and utterly craven about not being seen as such when it comes to the opposite sex. On one level this could be described as “intensely relatable.” Yet when one chapter has him skipping out of one entrance exam because it was too hard, which leads to a minor comedy of errors that sees Kyoko finding this out, it’s not hard to think that the basic premise of this series is maybe just a little flawed.
I understand that, I really do. However, while this is my first experience with the manga, it’s not my first experience with “Maison Ikkoku.” Thanks to one of the anime clubs at my college, I was able to see around half of the series. Why only half? While the series ran for only 97 episodes, there’s still a lot of dull filler crammed into it around the halfway point. So I’m coming into the manga with the expectation that I’ll get to experience the real quality of this story minus the anime’s bloat.
One thing I did get from watching the anime is that “Maison Ikkoku” is a little bit different from most of the romantic comedies that I’ve seen. Other series tend to involve two characters who are perfect for each other and it takes them the whole series to realize it. “Maison Ikkoku” differs in that even if their protagonists are meant for each other, they’re going to have to grow into it first. The series is as much about Godai’s efforts to grow into being a proper adult as it is about wacky romantic hijinks. Kyoko has some growing to do too… but, her growth involves an important part of her history that is revealed around the volume’s halfway.
As a result of all of this, I’m able to look at Godai’s behavior here and write it off with the knowledge that he won’t remain this way throughout the entirety of the series. There are hints of this here and there throughout this volume, particularly with his phone call to Kyoko at the end. However, I realize my situation here is unique. It’s more likely that someone with no knowledge of this series is going to read this volume and go, “Kyoko’s going to wind up with THIS GUY?!” That is a wholly valid reaction to have based on Godai’s characterization here.
The series does provide some charms in order to keep the reader entertained alongside its core romantic plot. Chief among these is the gently antagonistic relationship between Godai and the other inhabitants of Ikkoku-kan. Their methods range from the subtle of Akemi offering information on Kyoko in exchange for some instant ramen, to the slapstick of Yotsuya bashing a new hole in the wall between his room and Godai’s after the old one is patched up. Mrs. Ichinose also has some sharp words for the ronin as well, while she simultaneously prods Kyoko to come out of her shell. All of this would come off as unnecessarily mean if it weren’t funny, and if it didn’t feel like Godai deserved it all on some level (at this point).
Another thing working in “Maison Ikkoku’s” favor is that it actually feels like there’s forward progression in the plot and in the characters’ lives. It isn’t just about the characters engaging in wacky hijinks and misunderstandings under the roof of Ikkoku-kan in some sort of timeless bubble. Things do change for at least one of its members and we’re also introduced to new characters as the series goes on. Most of these newcomers are there to complicate the relationship between Godai and Kyoko, and none are more memorable at this point than tennis coach Shun Mitaka.
As suave a ladies man as they come (I mean, his teeth even have that sparkle to them), it would seem that Kyoko would be putty in his hands. That would be true if not for two things. One is that she has more respect for herself than to fall for his advances. The other is that someone close to her invokes a very specific phobia in Mitaka. Which leads to lots of funny business as he tries to manage his fear and get closer to this beautiful woman.
So yeah, there’s a lot of funny business to like in this first volume of “Maison Ikkoku.” It may not be as outrageously wacky as other comics I read, but the humor works and it feels true to the characters, who are also well-defined in this first volume as well. Yes, even Godai. He may be a schmuck, but I can assure you that he won’t stay that way for the rest of the series. Even if I know how it’s going to end, the way this series gets there is still largely unknown to me. I’ll be sticking around to see how that goes, and you should definitely consider it too.