Perspective is everything. That's more than just a pat statement in the case of samurai Konosuke Ryudo, who has suffered (as he sees it) from an inability to interact with metal since childhood. In his mind, it's a curse – he's a samurai who can't use a steel blade, a man who can't even get a close shave since he has to use sharpened obsidian rather than a knife or razor. He can't get work because no one wants to hire a man who uses a wooden sword, and worst of all, in his mind, his inability to touch metal led to his mother's murder when he was a child. Konosuke's not just down on his luck; he's completely out of it – at least, in his mind and in the eyes of mainstream society.

But what if "curse" is the wrong word? That's something that this first volume of Steel of the Celestial Shadows explores throughout its slow-burn story. Konosuke sees what others might call his "power" in a negative light because he's living in a stratified human society. Still, it doesn't take much imagination on our part to see that he could be approaching this in the wrong way. He may not be able to wield a blade, but early on in the volume, we see that a sword aimed at him will warp back and strike its wielder, like a snake obeying Konosuke's unspoken orders. In the blade-based world of what the back copy tells us is early nineteenth-century Japan, that sounds almost like a superpower rather than a burden. Who needs to use a steel blade when they can turn others' swords against them?

It's not a comfortable thought for Konosuke, and one he's unlikely to reach on his own, which is why creator Daruma Matsuura (also behind the manga Kasane) adds in the character Tsuki. Tsuki is a mysterious woman who appears in front of Konosuke one day, claiming to be his bride, although this is the first he's ever heard of it. She's unfailingly supportive of him and seems to know him already, although he can't recall having ever met her. At first, Konosuke tries to divorce her based on his feelings of inferiority, but eventually, he warms up to her – and that's when stranger things begin to happen around him. Tsuki, the implication is, might not be entirely human, and Konosuke's metal-warping power could be something much more than he's ever believed.

There are plenty of hints that Tsuki is more than she initially seems. For one thing, her name means "moon," and the chapters in this book are all named after phases of that celestial body, or at least ways humans use the moon to mark time. She also refers to his "curse" as his "power," and she's very keen on helping him understand that it isn't inherently bad. Tsuki fully believes in Konosuke, and by the end of the volume, it's easy to wonder if she's somehow a being from mythology and folklore herself – a moon rabbit, Princess Kaguya, Orihime, or someone else. (Unlike many Western mythologies, the moon is represented by a male god in the Shinto pantheon, so she may not be an actual moon goddess.) Whoever or whatever she is, what's undeniable is that she has some stake in Konosuke coming to accept himself. However, it also feels obvious that she does love him, so she's not likely to simply be using him to accomplish her own ends – or at least, I hope not, because he really does need someone standing in his corner. Konosuke is about two steps away from being a sad sack of a protagonist and seeing him succeed against all human odds is a significant motivation in reading this.

For all of the hints Matsuura drops, this really is a slow-burn series opener. Konosuke spends most of the volume being down on himself, while the townsfolk largely mistreat him. The supernatural elements don't come into full bloom until the end of the book, which could drive some readers away, especially given the depressing air surrounding most of Konosuke's scenes. Tsuki also risks feeling like an old-fashioned "good woman" stereotype, unstintingly standing by her man even when he's cruel or cold to her, and even if that's in line with the setting, it's not a lot of fun to read about. Most, if not all, of these issues go away in the final two chapters, but getting to that point can feel like a drag at times.

Matsuura's storytelling style is nicely complemented by her art, which walks the line between detailed and sparse. Mostly it feels understated even when replete with background elements and historically rich clothing, making it easy to read and soothing on the eyes. Viz's translation includes a few cultural notes in the gutters between the panels, which I don't personally love; I think a dedicated notes section is less distracting; most of the notes are about obsolete measuring units rather than story-relevant details, which I think is another argument in favor of a glossary rather than on-page definitions.

Steel of the Celestial Shadows' first volume is ninety-five percent set up, or at least feels that way. There's never a sense that this early part of the story isn't essential, but it is slow going until nearly the end of the book. If you're a fan of historical fiction or historical fantasy, however, it's worth it. The implications for where this is going laid out in the conclusion could change everything Konosuke has always believed about himself and his "curse."