Japanese have a saying: ‘I would like to taste a swellfish, but I would not like to lose my life.’ That’s the reason people ride on roller coasters. That’s also the reason people read horror stories. They strive for the thrill of danger, those wonderful spine tingling moments, without any lasting negative consequences that would advent from a real near death experience.
Chi no Wadachi (血の轍), translated as Blood On The Tracks in English, by the acclaimed Japanese author and illustrator, Shūzō Oshimi, is a manga that elicits those feelings in the readers. The recently completed manga series is comprised of 153 chapters, spanning a six year journey in print on the reputable magazine Big Comic Superior. Even though the magazine is packed to the brim with critically acclaimed authors and famous manga titles, it seems that Blood On The Tracks went by almost unnoticed. I often wonder what the marketing strategy to sell this work was. It’s one thing to let a manga build its own audience in the magazine, but when it starts being compiled into volumes, it needs to rely on the marketing strategy. Publishers capitalized on the fact that Shūzō Oshimi’s hard-won reputation as a masterful storyteller of psychological dramas — having previously created Flowers of Evil, Inside Mari and Happiness — would be enough to garnish him a sympathetic audience for his latest work. Goodwill accumulated over the years is a marketing strategy in and of itself!
Other than the name, and an early video trailer on YouTube, the marketing strategy for the manga was to keep almost everything under wraps while posts on Twitter dripped cryptic imagery and tag lines designed to elicit readers’ curiosity. I’m not sure this unconventional marketing approach successfully lured in the intended target audience. Then again, I’m not sure who the intended target audience is, but more on that later.
For now, can I say that I hate the fact that the marketing was predicated on a false premise? If I was tasked with selling this manga, one thing I would never do would be to write a text saying that Seiko Osabe is “an overprotective mother who loves her son very much”. That’s not even an embellishment, it’s an outright lie. The best description I’ve ever seen comes from the NHK Manben documentary, which manages to be truthful, while giving absolutely no secrets away. Promoting the manga as a dark, suspenseful psycho-thriller, while hinting at the disturbing and twisted nature of the story is the best way to sell it. Other than this minor blunder, I can’t fault the publisher’s need to balance intrigue and secrecy to lure in readers, but I question the wisdom of their choice of descriptors… And I fully understand that you cannot tell the truth in the case of Blood On The Tracks. If someone had asked me “hey, I have a great story here about child abuse, do you want to read it?” I would’ve smiled politely, while trying to suppress my urge to vomit and say “no, thank you”.
I was told about this manga through a different means — a great example of fan marketing — the famous Super Eyepatch Wolf’s YouTube essay. In it, he discusses at length the virtues of horror tales and how Shūzō Oshimi masters the genre. It’s only after 19 minutes that he warns the audience that Blood On The Tracks is a story of a mother “potentially hurting her own child”. But, by the time he drops this information, he already made his point in favor of the manga, and hopefully the audience is sold on it. I know I was. And, ironically enough, that’s exactly how the manga sells itself. Because stories have to speak for themselves at the end of the day. There’s nothing more positively subversive than presenting a seemingly normal story that gradually morphs into tense and unsettling moments, and defies conventional storytelling norms. Readers who picked up Blood On The Tracks were likely expecting a dark and disturbing story, typical for this author, but instead of a straightforward narrative, they were confronted with an intricate web of psychological suspense and moral ambiguity, whirling inside a deeply moving and emotionally complex story.
So how does Blood On The Tracks present itself? What is the author trying to do, who is his ideal reader, and does he accomplish his goal or not? I must say the way the story unfolds is very subversive, and it challenges our expectations of what a horror story should be. The comment sections for various forums consist of a confusing bunch of people, mostly teenage boys. That can’t be the target audience, right? After all, this manga is published in a magazine for adult males... But too many male readers are too busy ‘choking the bishop’ to a pretty face to pay attention to what’s happening on the pages. The women reading this are deeply worried they’re just like Seiko, or that they’ll turn into Seiko somehow, or they come to the conclusion that they’ll never have children. They can’t be the target audience either, right? There’s only one group of people who can grasp the complex message of this work – abuse victims. And that group splits into two: one subgroup is terrified that this story hits too close to home, is repulsed by the narrative and stays away from it as a means of self-preservation. The other subgroup (from which Oshimi comes from) find the veneer of fiction to be the perfect way to deal with their personal traumas. These folks are attracted to this manga like a moth to a flame. I imagine that’s Oshimi’s target audience, his ideal readers, and that’s the group that keeps telling us (the clueless readers) how accurate this story is in examining the impact of emotional manipulation on the psyche of a young boy.
Then again, I’m not sure the author had a specific target audience in mind… maybe that’s just a marketing gimmick to sell books. It’s not a secret to any fan of this author that most of his works are semi-autobiographical. It’s also not a secret (at least since 2014) that he’s had a difficult childhood due to his toxic mother’s malignant influence on him. He told us about that in the afterword of volume 3 of Inside Mari, he mentioned it again in his interview to the Le Monde in 2019, and yet again at the end of volume 14 of Blood On The Tracks. Believe it or not, that’s big… Vladimir Nabokov never mentioned his uncle Ruka while he was writing Lolita. Not everyone is willing to be so honest about their work and the inspirations behind it.
Shūzō Oshimi never shied away from difficult topics, often exploring them at length. That combination of transparency and personal vulnerability, plus his artistic prowess and his uniqueness in approaching certain topics is what makes him such an incredibly honest and relatable author. But that means that he’s not writing a story in the regular sense. Blood On The Tracks is Oshimi’s equivalent of The Book of Disquiet with Seiichi Osabe being analogous to Bernardo Soares. As dissimilar as both works are, they share a common thread in their exploration of internal thoughts, emotions, and the intricacies of the human psyche from a very subjective but poetic 1st person POV. And both works blur the lines between diary, autobiography, and fiction, creating a unique reading experience. To put it simply, Blood On The Tracks is a grueling task, an anguished howl of pain from an emotionally wounded author, trying to save himself. To anyone picking up this manga in the future, it stands as a testament to Oshimi’s courage as an artist and his ability to use his talent to grapple with the depths of human pain and suffering.
Art-wise, there’s no disagreement amongst fans. Shūzō Oshimi’s exceptional talent for capturing the intricacies of emotional nuance through facial expressions and body language is undeniable. The use of negative space, minimalist backgrounds and surreal imagery only adds to the claustrophobic atmosphere, emphasizing the isolation and emotional turmoil that Seiichi feels on a daily basis. Readers just can’t turn away from the sensitive, brutal, unapologetic and unadulterated psychological drama. Its subtlety and rawness makes it pure and irresistible (against our best judgment). Even if there is no worse feeling than our sense of helplessness, we cannot turn away from the truth, and we’re compelled to keep turning the page.
Many people, however, gave up on this manga as it went along, especially after the first time skip. The early excitement was gone and you didn’t hear many people talking about it after chapter 108... I wonder if Super Eyepatch Wolf is still reading it? Speaking of Super Eyepatch Wolf, back in 2020, in the early days of the manga, so many theories regarding the plot and the characters abounded on the Internet; mostly about the white cat, Fukiishi’s real intent, Seiichi’s mental state, and the reason behind Seiko’s behavior. Many people were ready for the manga to end after chapter 82 — myself included. It would’ve been an excellent place to end the story. Now that the manga is over, I realize I had no idea what the manga was about… See, a lot of people were angry about what Seiichi did to his cousin. I can’t say that I like what happened, but I understand what that batch of chapters was trying to achieve for Seiichi’s character exploration. I agree with everyone about the stupidity of chapter 84; making Shigeru go to his cousin’s house at 4 in the morning was blatantly absurd and indefensible. This is Blood On The Tracks’ capital sin. A writer simply cannot go through great lengths to build the universe where the two cousins live miles apart from each other, show us how Shigeru is practically in a vegetative state with great mobility issues, and then expect the reader to believe that he would walk in the middle of a blizzard to his cousin’s house. The man just shredded the unspoken reader-writer contract right then and there. And he probably did it because he thought he could get away with it, like he had already, years before, in his most well-known work. In The Flowers of Evil, he sacrificed the internal logic of the universe he was establishing, as well as any kind of realism, in order to tell a story that makes it nearly impossible for readers to suspend their disbelief.
There was a perfect way to fix all of this: he simply had to make Shigeru live in the same street as Seiichi. Problem solved. (It would be equally easy to solve the narrative problems in The Flowers of Evil, but this is not the time nor the place for that.)
Many people hated what happened in those chapters (84 to 92) not only for the obliteration to the internal logic of the story, but also because of what it did to Seiichi’s character. I can't say I disagree, but I believe the problem runs deeper than this batch of chapters… Blood On The Tracks is divided between the diary portion (in his relationship between his mother and Fukiishi), and the fiction portion (everything else). Unlike Seiichi’s relationship with his mother, and with Fukiishi, his relationship with his cousin, as well as Shigeru’s character are really ill-defined. Supplemental materials from the physical volumes paint a picture of two boys who grew up together almost as brothers, but you never feel it when you are reading the chapters. Shigeru comes off as this know-it-all jerk who enjoys making fun of his cousin and belittling him. Is that the real Shigeru? How does Seiichi feel about him? Shigeru is the closest thing Seiichi has as an older brother… Does he like spending time with him or does he see him simply as a nuisance that he had to put up with?! We don't spend enough time with these kids before the events on chapter 6, so their relationship is very ill-defined. The clues peppered across the manga tell us that Seiichi tolerates his cousin, more than enjoys spending time with him, and he may have thought that Shigeru deserved to be punished for his impertinence. That doesn’t mean he hated his cousin or that he wanted him dead. The person he was trying to destroy was himself. Then, in the physical volume, Shigeru thanks his cousin for his action if that’s the ending he wanted for himself. There’s also that mysterious letter at the end of volume 11 that can be read as a suicide letter… It’s rather strange that, unlike every other supplemental material, this letter never made it into the manga narrative… During these chapters, Oshimi expertly portrays Seiichi, as he grapples with anxiety, paranoia, and a growing sense of detachment from reality, while he vents years of emotional abuse inflicted on him by his mother. It delves deep into the vulnerability of the human mind and the consequences of psychological trauma, how children often justify their parents’ abuse, and feel responsible for it. These chapters left my brain sizzling, and it’s what drove my initial research. Had I been Yasufumi Nakoshi, I would’ve figured it all out on page 11 of the first volume.
Many readers were as confused as I was, and dropped the manga. To me, the problem with this section was the lack of an established dynamic between Seiichi and his cousin… There’s no obvious payoff from that point of view, because every panel is dedicated to establish Seiichi’s mental breakdown due to his mother’s malignant influence on him. This is the problem with the manga: the part that deals with Seiichi’s connection to Seiko is very well-developed and is examined to the fullest extent, but everything else (his relationship with his cousin, his father and his aunt) kind of falls to the wayside… And this is the moment I ask myself where his editor is to guide him through these moments and to point out these foibles…
I didn’t mention Fukiishi before because she’s part of the ‘diary’ portion of the manga. Anyone who has read Drifting Net Cafe will recognize Fukiishi Yuiko, since she’s the mirror image of Kaho Tono. In the last volume of that manga, Oshimi wrote that part of his inspiration was the trauma he felt from his first love. When he was middle school, he fell in love with a girl in the softball team but, due to various reasons, the relationship didn’t last. Oshimi became plagued by the thought that he was unlovable, which generated traumatic emotional turmoil, which in turn, inspired Drifting Net Cafe. Never underestimate the emotional impact of the first love… This, of course, reminds me of the brief romance between Charles Schulz and Donna Johnson, whom he would later immortalize as the ‘Little Red-Haired Girl’ on Peanuts. Fukiishi Yuiko plays the role of ‘Little Red-Haired Girl’ — a symbol of someone these authors loved and couldn’t be with.
It’s interesting that in a story like Blood On The Tracks, there’s a character like Fukiishi. She’s the light of hope in the sea of darkness and despair that constantly threatens to swallow Seiichi whole. She stands out, not only for the love she feels for Seiichi and the hope she represents, but also because she’s the type of character that or Shūzō Oshimi considers uninteresting: Fukiishi is a simple, honest person, she says what she means, means what she says, and acts accordingly — she’s a straight shooter. Oshimi doesn’t create many of those characters… I can only think of Gosho from Happiness… For the type of manga that Blood On The Tracks is, Fukiishi’s presence is such a welcomed breath of fresh air (for Seiichi and the audience). Her importance in Seiichi’s life also stems from the fact that his feelings for her are his own; it marks him as an individual, with an existence that stands apart from the process of destruction his mother is inflicting on him. It was his choice to ask her to be his girlfriend. Which is probably why most fans would rather have the manga end in chapter 83, while there was still hope for a better future, while there was still hope that these kids could live for themselves. It’s also why chapters 117 and 118 hurt so much.
Maybe we’ll never know how much of Seiichi’s interactions with Fukiishi are rooted in real-life events, but that’s of no importance. The change of pace their interactions bring to the manga is a real lifeline, especially since both kids are risking their lives by being together. Oshimi mentioned trauma before; however, I have a hard time seeing it through their moments together… It all feels more like an homage to simpler, more positive times than anything else. Their love is a beacon of hope in a dark and unforgiving world, illustrating the potential for healing, redemption, and a return to innocence. Fukiishi’s love and positivity offer a poignant counterbalance to the unsettling and intense atmosphere of the manga. Whether or not trauma is still weighing heavily in the author’s heart, what shines through is the sense of genuine affection and connection that Seiichi and Fukiishi share. Their moments together feel like a love letter to the idea that, even in the most challenging circumstances, love and hope can thrive and offer solace. The fact that their relationship doesn't end in a conventional way, such as them being together, doesn’t diminish the impact of their love and hope on the narrative.
The author wrote the manga in such a way that it would be impossible for the two of them to get together while obeying the rules of the narrative. And I know what you’re thinking: ‘well, he broke the rules before, couldn’t he break them again?’ He could have, but, if he was going to obey the rules, there was no way these kids were getting back together. That’s the reason why chapter 152 is an incredibly realistic and wonderfully nostalgic chapter (not for her husband, because he will have to live in the shadow of a great unfulfilled love), but it is nostalgic for the readers. I feel pretty good about the fact that she's happily married (hopefully, the gentleman is like Sudo from Happiness), but she still has lingering feelings for Seiichi. And, call me romantic, but I don’t think Seiichi forgot about Fukiishi either. If you know anything about this kid is that he never took pleasure in eating anything. He ate out of necessity, except when he was with Fukiishi. In chapter 35, Fukiishi offered him a plate of onigiri she had cooked, and he takes one and eats it with a wide grin. Probably the only time in his life he ever ate something with such gusto… Then, in the final chapter, he takes a tuna-mayo onigiri and eats it. I can’t help but think the two events are related, especially taking into account that Seiichi never shows any enthusiasm over food throughout the narrative. Of course, it’s impossible to confirm that Oshimi deliberately made a reference to Fukiishi when the elderly Seiichi eats that tuna-mayo onigiri, since that food is so omnipresent in Japan, but it seems pretty obvious to me that it could be a call-back to chapter 35. However improbable it might be, it could be seen as a way for the author to imply that, despite the passage of time and the complexities of their lives, Seiichi still carries the memory of Fukiishi and the happiness they shared.
Maybe I’m giving the author too much credit here. Maybe this thought never occurred to him, and this was nothing but a serendipitous moment in the last chapter. I don’t know much about Oshimi’s writing style: is he a meticulous story planner or does he write more off the cuff like Akira Toriyama? I don’t have the answer for this question, but I can see that the ‘diary’ portion of this manga is better developed than the ‘story’ portion. The fact is that Seiichi’s relationship with his cousin, aunt and father is rather underdeveloped, when compared to his relationship with his mother and with Fukiishi. ‘Write what you know’ as the motto goes. The ‘diary’ portion of this manga has immaculate psychological architecture, which is why I believe this is the best manga Shūzō Oshimi has ever produced. Many people would disagree. After all, lots of folks gave up on this manga right after the time skip. Everything regarding Seiichi’s dynamics with his elderly mother made a lot of people very confused, upset, and outright reluctant to pick up the manga again. Some readers wanted revenge, they wanted a story with cathartic release, and they never got it. The frustrations led many people to close the book for good. It is quite confusing (unless you've been abused). But Seiichi’s behavior is relatively easy to understand. Oshimi’s characterizations are a masterclass in portraying the human psyche. Readers witnessed the gradual erosion of innocence and the emergence of darker, hidden facets of the protagonist’s soul, making him both relatable and unsettling. Blood On The Tracks stands out for its willingness to challenge conventional storytelling norms and embrace psychological realism. While it may not offer the cathartic release some readers seek, it invites contemplation and reflection on the complexities of human relationships and the enduring impact of trauma and abuse.
Maybe that’s why there’s that line at the end of volume 13 about it being the “end of the preface”… Maybe because Blood On The Tracks isn’t about the total annihilation of a young boy’s soul, rather, it’s about how a young boy, after his soul was annihilated by his mother, lives with the effects of that destruction. Blood On The Tracks is also not about recovery, because Seiichi never recovers from the emotional trauma; he lives with it every day. If Blood On The Tracks was about the process of recovery, the manga wouldn’t have ended in chapter 153… Or there would’ve been another volume after chapter 152. If this manga conformed with storytelling norms, the readers would be rewarded with witnessing Seiichi conquering his identity, finding a companion, having children… That explains why many readers get so frustrated by this manga. However, I believe Oshimi was more interested in exploring the dark side of human nature and the devastating effects of trauma. When we see Seiichi as an old man enjoying his day, enjoying a good book outside, living simple pleasures in life, we can be happy for him. Deep down, we know he hasn’t recovered, and he never will, but he has learned to live with his pain, and he has found a way to survive and make the most of his life as he sees fit. The fact that he can barely remember his mother’s face tells us that the ruthlessness of the abuse she inflicted on him no longer crushes him into a ‘black hole’ of self-loathing and suicidal thoughts. This is the best possible ending, considering Seiichi has no one to help him escape the ‘black hole’ of emotional trauma.
And this is where the manga contrasts with real life because, supposedly, Shūzō Oshimi is not alone in the world and, therefore, he’s living proof that one can escape the ‘black hole’. But did he? Why would Blood On The Tracks even exist if he had escaped the ‘black hole’?! Do people feel guilty when they read this manga, or is it just me? Because the manga industry is getting groundbreaking work of art, the audience is getting a distinct experience… We’re all reaping the benefits of Oshimi’s “self-therapy” as he calls it. What is he getting in return? He has stated in interviews, and in the afterword of volume 14 that the more he draws the manga, the more he suffers, and the worse his stutter gets. Writing and illustrating this manga as a form of self-mutilation in an attempt to exorcize the trauma… He has stated in interviews, and in the afterword of volume 14, that the more he draws the manga, the more he suffers, and the worse his stutter gets. Writing and illustrating this manga as a form of spiritual ‘self-mutilation’, and an attempt to exorcize the trauma… It’s evident that this creative process takes a toll on him, and has a profound impact on his own well-being.
So, how is that a form of self-healing? Is this a necessary step in his healing process? While it may seem counterintuitive that a process that takes a toll on an artist’s well-being can be considered healing, it’s essential to understand that healing is not a linear or straightforward journey. In the volume of Inside Mari that I mentioned before, he describes the moment where his mother kicked him out of the house when he was a toddler. It’s pretty horrific to imagine a childhood like that, but there’s a part where he says “I’m sure stress had been building up inside her”, because, like all victims, he makes excuses for his abuser’s monstrous behavior. The afterword of volume 14 of Blood On The Tracks is, in essence, Seiichi’s emotional journey in the latter part of the manga. Oshimi describes a relentless voice — that he considers to be the voice of his mother inside his head — that keeps him from being happy, and forces him into the ‘black hole’ of misery. His description is that of a man who, according to all societal markers for success, should be happy and fulfilled, but isn’t.
He feels like he can’t, that he should never aspire to anything other than misery and suffering. After you’ve done enough research, that stream-of-consciousness confession becomes somewhat easier to understand. He internalized all these negative emotions and his self-loathing and self-doubt are all too apparent and painful to witness, which is all his mother’s fault, because she was supposed to teach him about love and acceptance. The process of writing Blood On The Tracks reminds me very much about that episode of House MD, when House performs surgery on his own leg to remove the tumors. It’s that painful!
If he intended for the manga to be some kind of revenge on his mother for all the horrible things she did to him, I’m sure there would be easier ways to accomplish this, where he wouldn’t have to put his soul in such danger. But could there be any action that would restitution him? Would there be anything she could do to or say to make him whole again?! In the manga, it becomes apparent that say Seiichi’s peace of mind cannot be given to him by his mother; it’s something he has to do for himself. It’s obvious he’ll never get what he wants out of her, either because she’s a narcissist or because she’s demented. There’s nothing she could do for Seiichi to atone for her sins; he’ll believe whatever scenario makes him feel better. This way, healing and closure are primarily internal processes that Seiichi must undertake for himself. In real life, restitution and closure may not always be achievable through external means, and survivors often have to find their own path to healing and peace, as is depicted in Seiichi’s character arc within the manga.
In the afterword, Oshimi also says he wants to draw a curse over the audience, but if you ask me, I think he just wants someone to hear his story and validade his experience. If he really wanted to throw his pain around, he would have likely become a mass murderer, like so many others who target total strangers based on their childhood traumas. Instead, he worked on a manga for 6 years of his life, hurting no one but himself in the process. And now, because of what he did, other victims of abuse across the world might find salvation in his work, making him a beacon for positive change. I just pray that he’s looking forward, that he finds emotional support with his family and friends. I pray there is someone to hug him and tell him the abuse he endured as a child wasn’t his fault.
The author muses over the origin of the voice in his head, and he writes that, if his mother programmed him that way, who programmed his mother? Welcome to the end of the thought process. Evidently, the main theme of blood on the tracks is generational trauma, which he would later explore at length from chapter 130 to 139. Some readers reacted angrily, others felt sorry when they heard Seiko’s story about her life before Seiichi was born. I never thought a sad childhood story gives anyone carte blanche to take their frustrations out on their children, so I don’t really care about Seiko’s sob story. She was the adult and she didn’t do anything to be a better person. She just pushed that responsibility on Seiichi — he was encumbered with the impossible task of making his mother happy. Whether or not Oshimi’s maternal grandmother was the one who started the cycle of abuse is equally irrelevant. The only thing he can do is to actively close the cycle and make sure his children are not victimized.
In the afterword of the recently published volume 17, Shūzō Oshimi confesses that he drew this manga in order to survive. He made it all the way to the end and the last chapter was very positive for Seiichi. I’m curious to know just how many copies this manga sells worldwide, though my gut tells me that it probably doesn't make a lot of money… It’s not a diss, it’s just the fact that these themes are not family-friendly, so this manga would never sell like Dragon Ball or Fullmetal Alchemist… I hope I’m wrong; I wish it is so successful that it’s paying for Oshimi’s beach house, or his yacht, or something like that, but I have the feeling that the manga that pays the bills is The Flowers Of Evil. Still.
I can just hope and pray that Blood On The Tracks has granted its author some long-awaited peace of mind. As for Seiichi Osabe, he is a true hero who embodies the boundless strength of the human spirit. He was plunged into the depths of hell by the person he should’ve trusted the most, and through enduring countless hardships, he taught us that our true strength lies in finding out who we really are. Seiichi's legacy will forever inspire readers to rise above their circumstances and find their own path to self-acceptance and healing, to be authentic and stand tall, no matter what challenges life throws our way. His journey shall never be forgotten.
