Being anything other than human is not acceptable in the kingdom of Blognig. Even though having animal traits at birth is a perfectly normal occurrence, people do not accept people who have them. Even in cases where one or both of their parents does not have them, these “unhumans” are legally and customarily deported to nations with greater tolerance. There are hints that they used to dispose of them that way, perhaps because they thought that Blognig’s execution would politically isolate them. As Blognig takes great pride in its “purity,” it poses a serious issue when Mio, the only princess in the kingdom, is born a mermaid with scales and fins. The king doesn’t get rid of her—possibly for political reasons—but instead imprisons her inside the palace, keeps her away from the salt water that gives her superpowers, and insists on paying a doctor to create a medication that will make his daughter completely human.
This is exactly what it sounds like—a thinly veiled kind of ableism and racism in a mythical setting. The main goal of In the Name of the Mermaid Princess is to employ fantastical creatures to contrast the evils of ableism and racism in the real world with those of fiction, and for the most part, it succeeds. Mio experiences remarkable levels of othering, and she has spent her entire life hearing comments that make her unworthy or less than human. She has internalized that to the point where she feels that it is somehow improper for her to even be alive, if not an open abomination. She want to embrace her uniqueness, but she has mostly accepted her father’s belief that Prince Chika of Aquatia will only accept her as his bride if he is unaware of her circumstances. She’s not ready to take the chance of telling him the truth, as his letters are one of the few things that bring her any happiness. Although she is scared to be herself, she longs to be free.
Presenting Yuri, a young guy from Aquatia who has traveled to Blognig to teach Mio the customs of that nation. Mio’s mermaid identity doesn’t concern Yuri, who is shocked by how she is treated and advises her to embrace every aspect of who she is. There’s a chance that Mio will come to terms with her mermaid nature because a male told her to, and there are patronizing elements to Mio and Yuri’s relationship. Yuri is very direct, which might come across as harsh at times. Yoshino Fumikawa, the author, attempts to portray that as him just being one of those persons who “tells it like it is”. Still, there’s something a bit off-kilter about the way he plays the part of helping her realize how beautiful she really is—a performance that would have been more appropriate in a nineties adolescent romantic comedy.
That’s important to note because to the ties between the heroines of the original short story set in the setting of the series, as well as the little creepy component, which is incorporated in the book “Eno’s Flight.” Similar to Mio, Eno is a youthful, nonhuman woman—in this instance, an angel. Eno meets a young man who encourages her to join his circus after being rejected and abandoned by her parents when she was a child. He portrays Wondertini as a haven for her, but as soon as we see it in action, it’s obvious that it’s really more of a freak show where inhumans are left on exhibit to “perform.” Eno’s story is similar to Mio’s in that it places her under the control of a man who claims to know what’s best for her, but we only get the first of what I assume will be two or three chapters in the back of this volume; the further chapters will be published in later volumes. That proves to be untrue in Eno’s case, as Wondertini—if that’s his name as well as the show’s; it’s unclear—behaves more like the king of Blognig, seeking to take advantage of those he perceives as Other. It appears that Yuri is doing well (I’ll be amazed if he’s not actually Chika in disguise), and Mio is developing the confidence to think for herself. Seeing the two stories develop together is fascinating because it demonstrates how Fumikawa’s treatment of her heroines evolves over time.
In the Name of the Mermaid Princess is a compelling story that’s simple to get into and hooked on, but it can also be a little preachy at times—possibly since it was published in the younger demographic manga magazine Ribon. Throughout this first volume, Mio grows remarkably, and we learn that her servants—maid Rimore and footman Pernice—are not quite who she thought they were, caught as they are between their interactions with the king’s daughter and their allegiance to him. A story with such distinct points to make has an amazing degree of depth, and the artwork wonderfully complements it, giving the narrative the feel of a literary fairy tale. Give this a try if you enjoy Rei Tōma but want something a little lighter.
