Animehouse

There comes a point in attempting to discuss obfuscated and incomplete narratives that you simply end up attempting to discuss yourself. How you piece together the moments, how you understand the ramblings and mildly incoherent conversations that you exists as a spectator for. Though the prior volume dipped its toes into such a game, Fool Night volume 2 drops the reader off the deep end into a discussion of what to do with 2 years left to live, alongside attempting to apprehend a spiriflor serial killer that’s been murdering families.

The simplest way to convey that is with how Yasuda expertly operates the story. The first volume presents this larger than life world- a place of danger and dreams where no line can be drawn. A trip to the South Pole, turning a father into a piano or grappling against your mother while she tries to murder you. Toshiro Kamiya is a rubber band that was stretched to its limits previously, and Fool Night volume 2 has him snap back, losing a bit of his original form in the process. It’s grappling with wanting himself back, and coming to terms with the new reality that he’s forced to inhabit that really drives this second volume. Shrinking away from responsibility, turning inward and trying to fill your head with dreams and desires you can’t convince yourself of as a dull ringing sensation persists.

It’s a terribly cliche comparison to make, but think about that trick of creating a vacuum of sound and then having it rush right back in at the right moment. I think that, rather than a traditional spiral, the idea of waves in that creative sense applies really well to Yasuda’s exploration of the world here. You’re solving mysteries or going to a music concert with a childhood friend, and the next moment you’re staring down the sour pieces of your past as a form of self-deprecation. It’s this game of ping pong that the ultra-capitalism of Fool Night employs, and it feels freakishly at home.

Additionally, this very well may be one of the few times where “person gets experimented on in lab” is a genuinely chilling threat to imply. I can’t possibly say that it plays expertly into the themes of life and death in Fool Night volume 2, let alone the series, but it’s just a great aside to include in this world- and it’s just another part of Toshiro’s life at this point. In a sense, the budding spiraflor is the perfect vehicle for the story. Selfish in the weirdest ways, and oblivious in all the others, the sporadic spacing and pacing of the story is a direct mirror of the main character which plays strongly against the world of Fool Night in a way that exposes its most disgusting secrets.

Though, I suppose that’s enough cryptic discussion that avoids the explicit contents of this volume- meaning I can now completely avoid it and talk about Yasuda’s art. Once again, I think Fool Night volume 2 does an incredible job of making use of Yasuda’s penchant for pairs, triplets, and so on and so forth with the right constraints. Honing in on the smaller moments that change from one moment to the next just feels like the only possible way to convey such a disjointed and personalized story. It’s the only place where things like how Toshiro shrinks when discussing himself matters, or how he might roll around while in wait can be properly expressed. Additionally, the character blocking and depth that Yasuda provides to Fool Night volume 2 feels… incredible. There’s this classical edge to it that feels so tangible yet so indescribable against some of the flatter compositions, which in turn almost feel intentional against the more unique panels. Maybe it’s just how much Yasuda defaults to forward or profile angles that makes it so noticeable, but it’s a difference that feels very palpable when present.

Additionally, when given the space to really take that step back, Yasuda’s visual horror is almost strictly beautiful- almost reminding me of the mystique of a kelpie. There’s a certain spirit to moments like the one that Sumi Matsuno experiences. There’s this lurking desire in its isolation, a tenderness in how Sumi consigns herself to the fate of her father devouring her hands for the sake of music, but ultimately a brutal and dark nature that cloaks the entirety of it. The way that the life of Sumi’s father, and consequently the piano, is conveyed feels like a very easy aspect to point that feeling towards. The strong sound effects provided that force the creaking and lurching of lumber into the mind of the reader are wonderful, and there’s just something about its pose that makes your mind scream that it’s alive when it’s not budging an inch in reality.

In all, the easy answer here is that Yasuda’s horror works through ways that it was originally intended- a destruction of the individual it targets. It’s never so broad as to be disturbing or terrifying to every person who has it cross their gaze. Make no mistake, this is the sole nightmare of Sumi Matsuno, and it’s expressed as such. Because of that, it works wonders in being something terrible to the reader through our experiences with Sumi.

I’ve gotten wildly off track and meandered through fields and forests alike here, but that’s truly the experience you arrive at with Fool Night 2. You must be particularly foolish to believe that some greater narrative is currently occurring in any explicit sense, but it’s hardly a bad thing when the current story can barely bare the weight of itself. Filled to its maximum with random discussion, challenging thoughts and experiences, and a depiction of capitalism that shreds it into nothing but a malicious grin, Fool Night is the sort of series that comes around once every blue moon. Not necessarily in regards to story or originality or anything of the sort, no. Fool Night is so rare in its experience being so fractured and individualistic, yet so well put together. Once again, Fool Night 2 is a volume that will be hard to get out of my head, and I’m incredibly happy about that.