It is April 2011. Fukushima.
It's been a month and a half since the tsunami struck, and the central, distant from the city about 60 km, exploded.
Since then, residents fled the city, some have returned, refugees have settled and we do not see any children play outside.
And a simple rain became a terrible threat.
But Fumi is in the last year of high school, and since she refused to leave the department with his mother and brother, for fear of being separated from her father, determined to stay in Fukushima, it must go back to school. See her friends, preparing contests for college. Resume a normal life, in short. But is it possible? What happened during those terrible weeks it reversible?
When I started reading this manga, I found the first few pages a little "nunuches" with a history of high school girls who form a band ... and then after a few pages, I was caught up by history, or rather, by the overlapping stories of the people of Fukushima and its surrounding area, their concerns, their fears and hopes. Beyond the story of a girl and her friends, is that of a conscience, our own, facing the danger of nuclear ...
Yet I telling you this now, I have long found that nuclear power stations were a means rather "clean" electricity production. But I think now.
Because Chernobyl, we thought it was in a poor country, in facilities in disrepair, abandoned ...
But Fukushima? Japan, the country at the forefront of technology and technology? It is a country that I willingly judge more advanced than France in many areas ... so the accident that occurred there pourrat occur anywhere, in any plant? And we would be equally powerless and subissants that these poor people in the region of Fukushima ...
A manga that I definitely recommend to one and all, for his way of opening the eyes and force us to look at the face that we'd rather obscure. And is based on a novel, Pierrot, of Teruhiro Kobayashi, Darai Kusanagi and Tomoji Nobuta and on real evidence gathered by the mangaka, Reik Momochi, who went to meet the people of Fukushima.
