The Spring 2021 Manga Guide

Police in a Pod

What's It About? 

Female police officer Kawai had enough of a career she wasn't even that into and was about to hand in her registration, when the unthinkable happened — she met the new, female director of her station! And after spending a little time with this gorgeous role model, Kawai realizes that maybe she isn't quite done being an officer after all.

Police in a Pod is drawn and scripted by Miko Yasu and Kodansha Comics released its first volume on June 8.

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Is It Worth Reading?

Rebecca Silverman

Rating:

I have a sneaking suspicion that Police in a Pod may be funnier if you have a background in law enforcement, or at least more first-hand knowledge of the field than I do. If you don't, well, it's just sort of intermittently funny, and there's some debate to be had as to whether or not the humor edges over into mean territory. But most important to mention is that, despite copy that makes it sound otherwise, this really isn't a yuri volume, or even yuri-flavored; it's just that both of the main characters happen to be women working together.

While that may lose the title some readers, it's not really my main issue with the book, although I will admit to wondering when the yuri I thought was implied by Kodansha's description of the story was coming in. The bigger problem is that it's really unevenly funny. The premise is decently promising: Kawai, who only became a policewoman because it was the sole civil service exam she passed, has just about had it with the job, which she finds unpleasant and at times degrading and demoralizing. She decides to stick it out a bit longer, however, when she's assigned a new training officer, Fuji, a woman who was originally much higher up in the organization but got demoted due to what amounts to an inability or unwillingness to censor herself. Fuji's gorgeous (or so the text tells us; the art leave something to be desired on that front), but what's more important to Kawai is that she's also at least a little bit insane or unorthodox in her methods, inspiring Kawai to give the job another chance. There's also at least a little implication that seeing another woman on the force is a plus for Kawai, whose police box is otherwise staffed entirely with men. (In fact, we only see one other woman policeman in the book, which says something.)

Because Fuji has been demoted, it's been a long time since she's had to do things like traffic stops or chasing down delinquents, but she's also got a keen eye for when something is more off than it should be, like when some kids on a bike knock over a man who turns out to be a wanted thief – Fuji spots his shoe prints and the crowbar in his backpack and brings him in. She's also on decent terms with the guys in the detective bureau, and Kawai does learn a lot under her tutelage. But there's also a lot of misogyny and at least two gags with the punchline being “Kawai's a virgin,” a particular pet peeve of mine, and the former isn't always part of the setting or part of a joke. The art is also very stiff and static, which isn't great when at least two chapters revolve around the characters running places.

Humor is subjective; we all know that. (So is the word “autopsy,” apparently; they use it to describe what I would call a non-invasive examination of a corpse, not cutting one open.) At the end of the day, I just didn't find this funny, and it actively repelled me in a couple of places. But my experience with police stuff is strictly limited to fiction, and I really do think that that may make all the difference.