Legend of Kamui: Volume One (2025)

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Recent efforts to localize classic Japanese manga have struck a comfortable balance between entertainment and education, especially imports of underground cult classics from the 1960s through the mid 1970s originating in the magazine Garo. The originators of the term ‘gekiga’, or manga designed for more mature audiences, we’ve seen a huge influx of freshly translated work from the likes of Shigeru Mizuki, Yoshiharu Tsuge, Saito Nazuna, Yamada Murasaki and others. But few command the title of legendary as authoritatively as Shirato Sanpei, and few manga as deserving as Kamui Den, i.e. The Legend of Kamui.

Legend of Kamui: Volume One, the first of a planned 10 volume set from Drawn and Quarterly, collects the entire run of Kamui Den manga originally serialized between 1964 – 1971 in Garo. At a beefy 600+ pages this first volume sets the tone of what’s to come, both stylistically and in plot. As such, any reviews of subsequent volumes should be considered extensions of this one, as we’re not above a little double-dipping (or in this case, ten-fold dipping).

A grand, sweeping epic set in 17th-century Japan with dozens of characters and spanning decades, Kamui is a manga that takes its time, allowing not just the plot to breathe but the atmosphere itself. Fundamentally, it tells the story of an outcast child who becomes increasingly dissatisfied with his, and by extension his people’s, place on the societal pecking order, though we only glimpse the beginnings of his story as the titular Kamui only appears sporadically in this first volume.

Instead, Sanpei establishes the world of Tokugawa feudal society as a cold, cruel one. The action depicted on the page is often brutal, both for humans and animals alike, as life is cheap for those occupying the bottom rung. And no group was more bottom rung than the outcasts, the lowest of the low. Right from the start, the metaphor of predator and prey isn’t hard to miss, with a message that’s just as obvious: those who accept their fate, succumb. Those who rebel have, at least, a fighting chance at survival.

The samurai of Sanpei’s Kamui are not the benevolent and noble heroes of adventure films, but instead a corrupt and often cruel ruling elite occupying the upper echelons of power, and willing to do anything to maintain their rule, pitting their subjects against each other, a rigid hierarchical structure of lower classes of which the Honbyakusho were (relatively speaking) on top, able to own land but also responsible for taxes. Serving the Honbyakusho were the Kaho, and beneath them the genin, farmers with no land rights. Still further down the line were the outcasts, a clan to which the titular Kamui hails from.

The rest of the world is dotted with a miscellany of peasants, ronin, animals, heroes and scoundrels alike as the cast grows (and subtracts) as events unfold. Even the creator, Shirato Sanpei, is a character of sorts, occasionally commenting on events or even disparaging his own retelling of them. There’s an illustrated character glossary available, which I advise to keep handy. I also wouldn’t get too attached to any particular character.

Great art is often reflective of the period in which it was produced, and Shirato’s Kamui is no exception, borne amidst a tumultuous time in the 1960s that saw a huge swelling of Japanese student protests that echoed similar civil uprisings in the United States and elsewhere. Marxist in nature, they would parallel similar protests in the United States, often descending into violence that suggested a post-war Japan’s transition from US occupation to a capitalistic powerhouse would be anything but simple.

Garo founder Katsuichi Nagai was eager to publish work that echoed these sentiments, and few echoed them louder than Shirato Sanpei’s Kamui Den, which is unapologetically socialist with a clear disgust for the ruling class and their disproportionate influence over the working class.

I can’t stress how crisp the reproduction of the original artwork is here, undeniably the best the Kamui manga has ever looked, drawn in a style that owes as much to Walt Disney as it does to Osamu Tezuka. Those who follow this period of manga will note how Shirato Sanpei’s character and background work matches the more whimsical style of western comics of the time, which would all but disappear as Japanese artists began to shed these influences entirely as manga (as we think of it today) that was distinctly Japanese would emerge during the late 60s and 70s.

It’s also worth mentioning that Drawn and Quarterly is advertising this new edition of The Legend of Kamui as appearing in English for the first time, and while that’s true, a bit of context is necessary to help clear up any confusion. Shirato Sanpei’s original Kamui manga was serialized between 1964 and 1971, and has gone by many names ever since, including spin-offs and sequels.

By the late 1980s, the Kamui manga would become a victim of the title-swapping and name changes common in earlier efforts to bring Japanese content to Western audiences. Viz Comics, with Eclipse Comics, would translate and serialize Kamui Gaiden, a spin-off from the original manga, into English, no doubt to take advantage of the recent popularity of Kazuo Koike and Goseki Kojima’s Lone Wolf and Cub localization (Kojima had begun his career assisting Shirato, incidentally).

Retitled ‘The Legend of Kamui’, the effort was short-lived and never completed, though it’s worth noting the run featured covers from Frank Miller and Usagi Yojimbo creator Stan Sakai contributed lettering to the project. Despite sharing the same title, this new edition from Drawn and Quarterly collects the original manga, not the Kamui Gaiden spinoff.

Kamui is a massive manga, and required a massive effort translating not just the original Japanese text but an understanding of the period in which this story takes place. That effort falls to professor Richard Rubinger, perhaps the definitive scholar of classic Japanese literature, aided by his wife Noriko Rubinger, and D&Q regular Alexa Frank. My only disappointment with this new edition, and I stress only, is the lack of supplemental material for either the manga itself or the period in which this story takes place, especially considering the translation was largely handled by Rubinger.

Maybe the publishers assumed that Shirato Sanpei’s own in-comic commentaries throughout would suffice, and while it’s no biggie (Google exists), I suspect Ryan Holmberg’s Herculean efforts translating – and contextualizing – the work of fellow Garo mangaka Yoshiharu Tsuge set the bar, and our expectations, a little too high.

A word of caution for those about to undertake this series. With each volume expected to cost $39, sticking with the entire Legend of Kamui saga through all ten expected volumes promises to be as big a financial commitment as it will be a time one, though I’m sure dedicated manga fans won’t mind. This might be a good time to remind readers how magical (and cost-saving) local libraries can be.

The Legend of Kamui is a foundational piece of manga history, both artistically and in its storytelling ambitions, that’s as wildly entertaining as it is educational. Volume One sets the tone perfectly, and sixty years since it was first published, Kamui still feels vital and alive, the artwork still mesmerizing, and the plot of festering political corruption (sadly) as relevant as ever. But it’s really the story of a nation reconciling with a future that had yet to be written, burdened with a past that uneasily shed. At long last, western readers can finally experience one of the missing masterpieces that’s long been denied them, and with nine volumes left to go, best settle in for the long haul.