Samurai of Hyuga Book 2
By Devon Connell
☆☆☆ (7/10)
The best way I would describe Samurai of Hyuga Book 2 is a fun, hot mess. It is by no means a bad book. Not at all! It’s the literal definition of a gleeful, chaotic romp through the woods that doesn’t put on any airs. For better or for worse, this is the author’s little playground—and you’re just in for the ride. That sounds a bit negative, but it’s true. Devon Connell’s prose is wonderfully descriptive, and the plot is just beginning to heat up. However, Book 2 comes with a newfound linearity, which may be a dealbreaker to same players.
Pros:
Descriptions. The prose delights in acts of cultural translation. Mundane pleasures—desserts, wine, customs—are broken down slowly and almost pedagogically, as if the narrator is teaching both the protagonist and the reader how to partake in a foreign culture rather than merely observe it. Connell’s prose works so well because it mirrors the emotional state of the main character. While the ronin protagonist might know how a dessert smells or looks like, the protagonist’s lived experience is rice, salt, and survival. Of course they would linger on the sweetness of a dessert. There’s more historical worldbuilding too: casual observations like offhand comments, comparisons, or misunderstandings.
Shogi minigame. I kid you not, a large part of the book is about shogi, the Japanese version of chess. However, you and your ronin have the same reaction when encountering this activity: confusion, maybe slight horror. The game is familiar to them, but they can’t read the symbols; likewise, most players won’t know shogi at all. You are forced to use context clues and hints to figure out what piece is what and where it goes. On my part, I had an absolute blast with the light logic puzzles. I didn’t even know the engine could have images! You are also required to remember characters and names, as you’re tested a couple times. It’s quite clever and refreshing!
Cons:
Linear. Usually I don’t mind linearity, as linearity in itself isn’t a bad thing, but it’s hard to ignore how railroaded you are in Book 2. The main hook of the game shifts from Book 1’s action to a dramatic slife-of-life. You truly have to “buy in” with the writer’s mindset. For example, a large subplot (or even plot) is a potential romance with Momoko. It’s a sort of push-and-pull, forbidden love. The problem comes in when your (not optional) best friend Hatch falls madly in love with her. You even have to go to a love hotel with her. I found this dramatic in a goofy way, but if you don’t want to romance Momoko, you’re going to feel railroaded. Additionally, you are not allowed to solve this problem: you are not allowed to talk honestly to Hatch, even though he asks for your advice many times, and the final confrontation between you two is a hella dramatic “HOW COULD YOU BETRAY ME?” ending. It certainly felt artificially engineered.
More linearity! Another factor that caused me to raise my eyebrow was the obvious traps in the plot. Light spoilers, but there’s a shifty figure who’s offering help for free. Additionally, you’re forced to get see a charismatic yet clearly suspicious man. Both are clearly traps. Your ronin can express their misgivings but they’re either ignored or laughed off. And, of course, both characters backstab you! Who could have guessed? Certainly not me!
Jun/ko is a divisive figure, for sure. They’re a straight up yandere and your ex. Objectively, they stab you, threaten a child at swordpoint, brand you, gladly kill people, call you affectionate names, and assume you “belong to them.” They’re an interesting character narratively, for sure. But no matter your choice, they will always be in love with you. Your ronin will always think about this, usually with some lust or attraction.
Anime-ish writing. Book 1 already had into familiar anime conventions; Book 2 leans into it harder. There’s a lot more exaggerated emotions. Characters cry, scream, blush, or faint at the drop of a hat. There’s also some love confessions out of nowhere, slapstick humor, and dramatic “woe is me” monologues. It’s over-the-top, but that’s very much part of the charm. Usually.
There’s not a lot that actually happens? Plot wise, I mean. It’s a slow build up, focussing on the characters and the relationships you have with them, as well as setting the groundwork for the start of the next book. It’s internally focussed, which I like, but technically, you’re still in the same place as Book 1. I think I’m a bit soured because the book ends on another cliffhanger.