--- Sniff.
I'm not the emotional type, ordinarily. I can read tragedies and laugh, witness scenes of overwhelming anguish and only think, "Hmm." Yaoi has done this to me. I don't believe reading about rape will turn me into a rapist, but constant exposure to cheese and melodrama will desensitize anybody to the usual dramatic standards of literature.
For the first time in a long while, however, I find myself moved, and by a particularly personal tragedy: the loss of my first love.
Approximately seven years ago, I got my first issue of BeBoy. Wasn't quite sure what to do with it; I didn't read a lick of Japanese, and wasn't all that clear on this "yaoi" stuff my friends were all raving about---but I was curious, so I thumbed through it. My attention was immediately riveted by one story which had clean, bold lines that made it stand out from the airy flowery stories around it. It also stood out because I could understand it even without knowing the language; the layout and characters' facial expressions were obvious enough and linear enough (and over-the-top enough) that even a gaijin no baka like me could figure out what was going on. This despite the fact that what I saw was a bizarre sequence of shenanigans---a high school kid was being lured to a love hotel by an obvious, if handsome, Nogoodnik who was apparently just doing that as a diversion to get at the real object of his affections. Confusing, yes---but more comprehensible than the rest of the stuff in that issue of BeBoy. Seemed like a good prospect on which to cut my yaoi teeth.
I emailed a friend who'd figured out this mysterious kanji business, scanning her the title page. Got an email back not long after: "This one's called 'Kusatta Kyoushi no Houteishiki'. Author is KODAKA Kazuma." A few weeks later I visited my first Japanese bookstore, and was lucky enough to meet a friendly bilingual who helped me order volume one. Ten weeks later (sigh) it came in the mail. Thus did the star-crossed love affair began.
And last month, it ended.
Actually, it ended sometime before that; last month is just when the final tankoubon came out. In the seven years since I first fell in love with KKH, I've grown from a wide-eyed newbie into a seasoned veteran. I now know better than to read the serialized chapters in the monthly 'zines---that just slows down the torture. Easier to wait for the tankoubon and get it all over with quickly. But now, having just read the final tankoubon of KKH, I think I should have read the magazine version instead. There's something so... final, about reading a tankoubon. Magazines are somehow more ephemeral, more diluted. You can read the end of a series in a 'zine and turn the page and the continuation of another series stares you in the face. Turn the final page in a tankoubon, and there's nothing left but the dustjacket. Nothing left to do but mourn.
So herein follows a retrospective, of sorts. I've waxed semi-eloquent about this series in previous reviews, articles, and summaries, so I won't do that again here. Instead I'm going to touch on the highlights---those moments that touched me most, and the characters whom I'll truly miss. Call it catharsis. But warning---if you haven't yet finished the series, don't read any further, because I'm going to spoil some of the ending surprises.
Highlight #1: Transformation. KKH is a tricky little devil of a story. It's told from the perspective of Atsushi, and in many ways it's about his coming-of-age from the doe-eyed genki boy who entered high school into a more confident and only slightly-less genki man. But somehow along the way it also became the story of Masayoshi, and his maturation, from an immature adult into something wiser, kinder, stronger. Not all of the fans liked the end result of this transformation---which, along with the more subtle changes, included an apparent seme/uke flip-flop---but I think everyone liked the process itself. Atsushi's troubles were the ones we've already lived through: growing up, first love, learning to think beyond the self and see the big picture. Masayoshi's troubles were more nebulous and complex. They brought a serious and sometimes painful note to the series, and they reminded us that all the troubles of growing up don't end once you've actually become a grownup. I think this theme is what kept me reading KKH when other school-based yaoi series gradually lost my interest. We all remember what it was like to be Atsushi, but we're living Masayoshi's life every day.
Highlight #2: Lovable characters. There's not a single character that's hateworthy in this series. Really. The main characters, of course, won my heart long ago. I thought Masami was a little too sweet to be likable for a while, until we first saw his Jekyll-and-Hyde act behind the wheel of a car. Tooru was my favorite---big and gentle and so in love it was scary. Masayoshi seemed like one-dimensional comic relief until I began to realize how many Issues he had. Atsushi delighted me the moment he started trying to seduce his teacher, and Inagaki did the same the first time he beat the crap out of Masayoshi. But I even liked the Lush gang, in the brief glimpses of them we were shown; Rena's cameo in Kizuna was one of my favorite chapters in that series. I even liked Hirohiko Satsuki, the "bad guy" of several chapters who tried to seduce Masayoshi at all costs. He was hilarious, but also kind of pathetic, and I hoped he'd at least develop something permanent with one of the Lush crew. And I loved Takami Kenya, the out-and-wild "gei" boy who taught both Tooru and Tooru's little brother Kyouhei that real love is worth any effort. (Have to admit, though, I was disappointed that Kenya didn't hook up with Kyouhei. Kyouhei was so much more interesting than that Karl guy.)
How many artists create walk-on characters who walk away with the readers' hearts? How many guest stars are actually missed, once they leave a series? Call me biased, but I think this is one of the things that made KKH special.
Highlight #3: The hottest unsex I've ever seen. Okay, I'll admit, FAKE and Yatteraneeze! probably did a better job with this---at least with the main couples of those series. KKH managed to do it with the whole damn gang. Remember the love hotel caper? We got our first foreshadowing of Atsushi the seme right there. Remember the condom party? Totally shattered my image of Masami as a sweet-but-boring purehearted type. The aborted "night visit" between Tooru and Masami was hotter than many completed, explicit sex scenes I've witnessed in yaoi, and all they ultimately did was jack off.
These scenes weren't hot because of what was shown, however, but because of what they made us feel. We empathized with these characters, after chapters and chapters of watching them dance around each other. We suffered with them, blue balls and nosebleeds and everything. We held our breaths in anticipation when they hid rubbers and lube under their pillows, and we almost---almost---urged them to go for it when tempted by lovers not their own. This was UST at its finest: not frequent enough to aggravate, and more than steamy enough to titillate. No wonder Yukiko kept squealing over the idea; we were right there with you, sister. Yum.
Highlight #4: Real life---lite. Not being a gay man, I have the luxury of being able to think about love and sex without also having to think about politics and societal mores. It's a luxury I'm very grateful to have. Which is why I normally defend that luxury vigorously in my entertainment material---I don't like reading fiction about gay bashing, AIDS, or all the other horrible facts of reality that gay men must face. I don't care to read about reality in any other way, for that matter---I'm not interested in realistic crimes, social problems, or the kinds of relationship issues that show up when the romance fades (e.g., "You make more money than me!" "You're jealous of the time I spend with the baby!" yatta yatta). I get plenty of reality whenever I turn on the news or read the paper or walk down the street. When I read, it's to escape reality, and I resent any author who keeps me from doing that.
Yet somehow Kodaka managed to slip little snippets of Real Life into KKH, and I didn't mind. The sex-ed demonstration, skirting the usual AIDS-prevention preaching while also successfully pushing The Condom Message. Incest, racial/national discrimination, and bullying. Coming out. The looming specter of date rape (male/female, no less). The unbelievable pressure put on high school students. Developing a relationship with one's parents as an adult.
None of it jarred the escapism, and none of it condescended to the reader with a brain. And yet it wasn't so frequent or deep that it made KKH qualify as "angsty", either---the story remained a comedic romance from start to finish. Instead, the reality just served as a pleasant spice.
Highlight #5: Resolution. Okay, I know not all the fans are happy about the seme/uke flip, but I am. Grown-up Atsushi makes a delicious seme, and Masayoshi's always had uke traits---to the degree that Kodaka flirted with the idea of pairing him with Tooru (in gag, but there was a hint of seriousness underlying the comedy) way back in the beginning of the series. That's what made Masayoshi so interesting. Sure he could've topped his brother easily (not that hard, given that this is Masami we're talking about). And sure kawaii freshman Atsushi would've been more than happy to have Masayoshi "stuff it in" him a time or two. But how long could that have lasted? Masayoshi is a guy with deep emotional problems; he needs somebody who can take him in hand and make him feel safe and drive away all his doubts. I suspect much of his attraction to Masami is because Masami filled this role---as big brother---when they were younger. Now that everybody's grown up, Masayoshi needs a man, not a boy, for a lover. And after all the growing up Atsushi did over the course of the series, he was perfect for it.
Of course, I'm deliriously happy that everybody else got their share of resolution. Inagaki and Yukiko were always cute together, straight or not. I'm just glad Tooru and Masami didn't die of some kind of toxic shock syndrome triggered by perpetual blue balls. Even old Yoshiyuki got some resolution in the later chapters, thanks to his crossdressing Club Lush friend. Kenya's cameo appearance made me happy, even though the insipid Karl was lurking nearby. I still feel sorry for Satsuki, but hey---he always liked playing drama queen anyway.
I know KKH had to end. I've never liked it when series have dragged on beyond all reason, and I would have lost respect for Kodaka if she'd done that. Instead the series has ended on a high note, with the best of all possible endings. And though it leaves me without a boys' love favorite now---Yami no Matsuei doesn't count, it's shoujo---I'm content. As first loves go, it was doomed from the start, but it's left me with no regrets... just happy memories.
Saraba da!