Across a snowy expanse of concrete and metal -- a mountain range of desiccated tank innards, abandoned power-plant monoliths, and an open-ended fuselage or two; across this range of exquisite nothingness rests the quiet cityscape into which Chii-chan and Yuu-chan venture every single day. This terrain is an almost absurdly awkward bounty: the remains of a war-torn urban threshold long rubbed free of life by the harsh elements.
Are Chito and Yuuri the only ones left alive in this cold and forgotten world?
Hard to say. But if so, that's okay. Chito, short and intuitive and a bit of a handy-person, mounts her trusty tank-bike (kettenkrad) and trudges through the snow in search of food and supplies. Tagging along is Yuuri, a tall and bright-eyed sharpshooter whose alternating bouts of kindness and laziness make her the most perfect/imperfect travel companion in all of human history.
GIRLS' LAST TOUR tracks Chito and Yuuri as they wander this anonymous, blizzard-prone, urban wildscape. It's a low-concept manga with a potentially, very high reward. Tsukumizu's cute lineart wobbles and weaves in expert contrast to the high-end mechanics of rusting military vehicles and ages-old weapons of death, and yet, narratively speaking, neither Chito nor Yuuri desire anything more out of life than survival itself.
Make no mistake, war has crushed, scarred, or scorched absolutely everything in sight. However, in this comic, there is less room for explaining how or why things are the way they are then there is for Chito and Yuuri to focus on surviving from one chilly day to the next. They search indiscriminately, but somehow always manage to locate precisely what they need: camaraderie, a glimpse of the stars, chocolate-flavored rations, or a warm place to pack it in for the night.
To clarify, what is most fascinating about this comic is its willingness to eschew the temptation to pull its readers into a miasma of unanswerable questions, and instead kick up its feet and treasure the indifferent exhalation that whatever will be, will be.
Readers may never learn about the war that destroyed most of civilization, how many lives were lost, or even how widespread the conflict was. But that's okay, because when Yuuri asks "Why would they do that?" in response to defining war as one person killing another, readers realize that the consequences of war -- death -- is less about heavy machine guns and giant airplanes than it is about one life deliberately snuffing out that of another. Indeed, why would anybody do that?
Similarly, in GIRLS' LAST TOUR, readers may never learn how old Chito and Yuuri are, how long they have scoured this city (or, stratum) for spare parts, or even whether they have any treasured memories of long-lost family. But that's okay, because when Chito likens she and her friend's lonely survival to that of perpetual futility, she furtively mumbles, "Hey, Yuu . . . Why are people alive, anyway?" What if, "at the end of that road," their efforts to survive this traumatized world are truly all for naught? Indeed, why exist in a world where nothing else exists?
Quiet existentialism is a running theme in this book. Yuuri, the tall one, comes across as a bit of an oaf: she frequently dozes off, and she finds it difficult to focus on the smallest tasks that don't involve muscle or aggression; and yet, there's something frightfully scary about her character's muted resilience. Yuuri is not ignorant, just unable to recall the full functionality of things; she's not unmotivated, but merely lacks a formal education; and while a bit clumsy, the girl more than makes up for it with kindness and loyalty.
For example, Yuuri apologizes profusely after accidentally using one of Chito's journals for kindling. She goes through great pains to use proper grammar and sentence structure, and also takes the time to draw a cute photo of Chii-chan sleeping. Chito is largely unsympathetic. But Yuuri, after absorbing her travel-mate's assorted curses and sniffles, extends her arms for a warm hug, because even if it's the end of the world, friendship is currency.
Chito is constantly thinking, worrying, and on the look-out. Yuuri is not. So when Chito asks why people are still alive, despite civilization's obvious state of decay, Yuuri, feeling modestly slighted, rams the butt of her rifle into Chito's helmet, deadpanning, "I thought your head went funny."
The humor is dry and abrupt, but it's also quite insightful, because Tsukumizu makes clear that the oafish Yuuri is well aware that attempting to resolve the unresolvable leads only to frustration and stress. Yuuri is well aware of the consequences of surrendering she and her friend's survival to an army of unknowns. That way lies madness. Which is why Yuuri listens to Chito's complaining for a few more beats, and then promptly takes a nap. Is the world around them dead or alive? Who cares. It'll still be there when she wakes up.
GIRLS' LAST TOUR is a slow and patient read. It's the type of manga some scholars might say belongs to a much older era of European exploration comics, what with its preference for exhibiting emptiness in vast but cluttered landscapes, and for its recurring deliberations on human nature through excruciatingly small, pinhole dialogue.
On its face, GIRLS' LAST TOUR is a ruminative buddy comedy. But for readers willing to wade a little deeper, they'll encounter a book with an inquiring mind and a humble, sideways smirk.