You may already know of Nina Matsumoto’s work from her practically viral interpretation of the Simpsons, but if so it still probably won’t prepare you for the wall-to-wall fun that is her first true manga. Quite simply, Yokaiden 1 announces Matsumoto as a major talent. (But if you still want to check out “Simpsonzu” you can do so here, or you can read her long-running digital comic, Saturnalia, here.) Starting with a great premise—one that’s both so natural and so full of potential that you wonder how it hasn’t already been done to death—and following it up with hugely entertaining art and dialogue, Matsumoto makes Yokaiden a series that I’m excited to follow from square one.

Those familiar with Japanese folklore and horror probably recall that yokai are a class of spirit-creatures who are sometimes humorous, sometimes creepy. There’s a wild and weird trilogy of ‘60s films featuring them that I can recommend, and more recently The Great Yokai War by that master of the wild-and-weird, Takashi Miike. Matsumoto herself is said to have been inspired by Shigeri Mizuki’s manga (later an anime) Ge Ge Ge no Kitaro, but what she’s achieved is wholly original—retaining the traditional essentials of yokai but presenting them in an accessible and contemporary way. With a nine-year-old protagonist (Hamachi) who believes that yokai are worth befriending, even protecting, despite reports of their having harmed and killed humans, we have the makings of a grand and compelling journey into the fantastic.

Indeed, Matsumoto fashions the kind of fictional world, informed almost equally by endearing comedy and sinister mythology, that can delight readers of various ages without breaking a sweat: think of Yokaiden as a hip, new manga version of Jeff Smith’s Bone. The witty, self-assured voice, the carefully developed (and memorable) supporting cast, and the total command of the fantasy elements are that strong.

And when self-proclaimed (and self-righteous) yokai-slayer Kyumon Zaigo enters the picture, the story takes on a X-Men-like subtext about society’s mindless persecution of the Other. I doubt it’s intentional, but the visual storytelling is less inventive when he’s on the scene, as if Yokaiden’s becoming as humorless and conventional as he is. I also noticed a tendency of Matsumoto’s that’s hard to fault her for: she’s so adept at banter that occasionally the pace lags as the story gets bogged down in dialogue. But these exchanges are so effective that this entire issue has to be filed under the “nice problem to have” category.

These minor qualms are, I suspect, only noticeable because 95% of this volume operates at such a high level of accomplishment that any pages that are merely more ordinary in execution really stand out. The art, both bold and graceful, is highlighted by a crisp sense of contrast and an exceptional use of grays to add depth. At times deadpan hilarious (two villagers self-consciously lamenting Hamachi’s situation by noting “there’s nothing we can do but stare and gossip”) and at other times unexpectedly, but winningly, quirky (Zaigo explaining the difference between situational and cosmic irony), the writing is sharp and clever throughout.

Moreover, at nearly point Matsumoto exhibits the signs of true artistic giftedness: the ability to be playful without being silly and to be serious without being heavy. With that in mind, I can’t help but think that Yokaiden helps further usher in what should be a celebrated career.