Powerful one-shot manga that delves into the themes of friendship, ambition and the pursuit of art. Through the coming of age story of two aspiring artists, Fujimoto explores the complexities of creativity and the impact of loss.
»You know, to begin with... I... don't even like drawing manga« [...] »Then why do you draw Fujino?«
Tatsuki Fujimoto tells a compelling tale of Ayumu Fujino, a young manga artist whose journey is shaped by her rivalry & friendship with her classmate Kyomoto. As she navigates the challenges of becoming an manga artist, Fujino finds both motivation and purpose in her work. It captures the essence of ambition amd the transformative power of art.
Tatsuki Fujimoto is a Japanese manga artist and fellow watermelon enthusiast, celebrated for his distinctive narrative style. He began his creative journey with short stories before achieving widespread acclaim with Fire Punch and his breakout series Chainsaw Man, which debuted in 2018. This series showcased unconventional characters and unexpected story lines, quickly establishing him as a figure in today's manga.
In an excerpt from Shonen Jump, Fujimoto responds to the question, »What's your approach to creating manga that's readable?« by stating, »Keep the text and explanations to a minimum«. This approach reflects his belief in visual storytelling to enhance the overall reading experience, allowing readers to engage with the manga more intuitively.
Following the success of Chainsaw Man, Fujimoto worked on Look Back. This work, along with his subsequent short story Good Bye Eri in 2022, can be seen as transitional projects bridging the gap to Chainsaw Man Part 2. These mangas also demonstrate that Fujimoto doesn’t want to limit himself to action and adventure as genres.
»Twice a year, I spend time with my grandmother in France. I'm trying to get in her will.«
The story's impactful themes were further brought to life with a well-received anime film adaptation that premiered at a film festival in France before its broader release, produced by Studio Durian in June 2024. Kiyotaka Oshiyama, the director, shared an interesting anecdote: »Fujimoto said that he also went to see the movie in the theater. The woman sitting next to him broke down in tears and couldn't stand up after the movie ended, but I was listening to the story thinking she probably didn't realize that the person next to her was Fujimoto.«
Look Back moved me far more than I expected. The story's shortness encourages a deeper focus on each page, allowing for beautifully detailed artwork. Fujimoto manages to convey emotions and messages in a way that requires few words. This is where the manga format’s strength lies: rather than relying on complex dialogue, it lets the visuals speak for itself, touching the heart in ways that words alone can't.
The premise is especially compelling, particularly considering that the two main characters can be seen as two part representations of Fujimoto himself. There are clear autobiographical elements, with parallels to his early life, where he started drawing manga at a young age, won awards for his short stories, and eventually gained recognition with works like Fire Punch and Chainsaw Man. The symbolism is clear and strong, yet subtle enough to be open to interpretation. I would love to read Shark Kick!
What truly sets Look Back apart for me is how it unexpectedly shifts in tone. At first, you anticipate a simple, wholesome story about two classmates who slowly grow to understand one another through their shared love of manga. The narrative takes a sharp turn and everything feels different. This change shows how, as we grow older, we often lose touch with people we once cared about, and how life’s paths can diverge in unforeseen ways. Combined with the theme of loss, this part of the story hit right in the feels.
I didn’t expect the narrative to explore loss so profoundly. By the end, it becomes a touching reflection on grief, growth, and the connections we form with others. I remember reading the conclusion while sitting on the toilet, and there’s no denying I felt a tear welling up. I know I’ll be just as emotional when I watch the film adaptation; I’ll likely shed a tear then, too. (Edit: I saw it in the cinema, and by the end, half the room was in tears. I could hear people quietly sobbing behind me, beside me, and, strangely enough, even in my own seat. I look back on that moment as a powerful reminder of how deeply stories can resonate with us.)
Another aspect that struck me was how well Fujimoto captures the mixed feelings many artists feel towards their craft. By the end of the story, this theme becomes clear: drawing can be exhausting, often leading to burnout or breaks, but once an artist reconnects with their work, they remember why it’s so vital. It is tiring, but it’s also incredibly rewarding — especially when it resonates with those we love or those who see themselves in the work. Fujimoto does an excellent job of wrapping these themes into a narrative that feels authentic without being overly autobiographical, resonating deeply with artists and art consumers alike.