Stories from the perspective of “other” are not uncommon – and especially so in the context of queer literature. Indeed, much of what we have read from inori.-sensei is from the perspective of “other.” In I’m In Love With The Villainess, Rae Taylor, isekaied into her favorite otome game, was not only not of that world, and a gay woman in love with an apparently straight woman, and a 21st century mind in a feudal society, as the story played out, we learned how she was in fact even more “other” than that. The sequel series and inori.-sense’s subsequent novel, The Girl Who Wants to Be a Hero and the Girl Who Ought to Be a Hero (EN release in June, reviewed here on Okazu in JP,) include the ultimate in-world “other,” introduced to us in the form of young women who are, in whole or part, demon.
In Homunculus Tears: Alchemy For the Brokenhearted, we are asked to contemplate the idea – what if there is only “other?”
In our world, including among the readership of Okazu and folks that hang out with me on a regular basis, I count few, if any, people whose lives are unconditionally privileged. I am happily surrounded by creative folks, queer folks, and women of many classes other than elite. We are all – inexplicably, as we are the majority – considered “other” in a society in which the presumed standard is, weirdly, a small minority. In Homunculus Tears, inori.-sensei presents us a world in which any possible not “other” person is invisible, some unseen (possibly non-existent) elite. Instead, we follow people whose lives are treated as “other” to the extent that an entire military exists for the purpose of being eventually eliminated.
We meet Maha, a woman brought into the world to fight, to die, by a soldier mother who values her who only for that fighting skill. The same mother creates another young woman, an alchelmical homunculus, Ruri, to be an even better fighter. They are trained by yet another outcast, a woman who can read minds, which allows her to, yet again, be a strong fighter. None of these people belong in the context of the society in which they live. The members of the society we do see are the poor, the orphans – the outcasts of a society at war. At no point in the story are we privy to the existence of anyone who is not “other.”
The story makes a point of this, too, so it’s not that we are to infer any of this. Maha is not alone as she ponders why she exists at all, why she was given life and why she continues to struggle. Ruri likewise, when faced with the voices of the “other” around her, struggles with the value of life. Why was I brought into this world? Why do I continue to live? are questions that many of us ask during the hardest times.
The answer here is that we are loved, even if it’s not what or how or by whom we expect. A community might be part of a world at war, but it is community, nonetheless. Throughout Homuncuus Tears, we are told this over and over. And may I remind you that, although the not-othered insist “other” is a problem, they are the weird minority, not you, not us. As “other” as we feel sometimes, we are the majority. If we can band together, the demons don’t stand a chance.
The use of the word “anti-natalism” in the author’s note has been commented on in discussions of this book online. Use of “-ism” usually indicates a belief system. In the context of anti-natalism, it would be a belief that procreation itself is unjustifiable. In this specific scenario, it is not a group or society, community or sect with this belief, not a generalized belief system that procreation is bad, but two individuals who question why they, personally, were brought into the world. However – and this is actually quite relevant to our world right now – the only children we meet in this story are war orphans. The question of “why would anyone want children, or desire them to live in our current society” is valid one. It is a valid one in 2025 on the planet earth, as well. Perhaps more people ought to ask that “why.”
The illustrations by Aonoshimo-sensei miss the chance to illustrate any of the excellent battle scenes, favoring pin-up poses and service. I am always disappointed when, rather than seeing Ney and Maha going head to head in a complicated battle of will and magic, I get to enjoy underwear. Again. This is light-novel tropiness that I would not mind losing. I did not feel that either a bath or beach scene added anything of value. I am ambivalent about the Yuri, as well. Both Maha and Ruri are brought into the world by the same woman, and Yuricest is never appealing to me. The loli jokes fall flat for me as well. Maha and Ruri as a couple is simply unconvincing.
What definitely did work for me was the alchemy. I’m fond of magical systems that are consistent within themselves. This alchemy and it’s trappings of tomes, vials, and attacks worked incredibly well. To that point, the character of Metako, (‘meta’-ko, which works really well across three languages) was the most interesting character to me. Her story, the way she worked and her functional relationship with Maha, were high points of the narrative. How Maha uses alchemy is presented as a kind of standard behavior, but in reality it was very cleverly handled throughout. Also solid is Kevin Ishizaka’s translation, which keeps the narrative running smoothly and provides excellent alchemical magic attacks.
Overall, this was a fast-paced light novel that delved into some tough questions about existence, but missed a few opportunities to be great.
Ratings:
Art – The art is excellent, it’s just of the wrong things
Story – 7
Characters – 8
Service – 4 It will never add anything to a story for me
Yuri – As above, so below.
Overall – 7.5
As a self-published light novel, this book was poised for success. I hope this allows inori.-sensei some room to work her own way. And I look forward to her next original work.
