What Is The Original Name Of Doctor Tenma In The Manga?

I get a kick out of how names and characters echo across manga history, and Doctor Tenma in 'Monster' is a great example of that. The Dr. Tenma you're asking about — Kenzo Tenma, the conflicted Japanese neurosurgeon at the center of 'Monster' — was created by Naoki Urasawa. Urasawa both wrote and drew the series, which ran in 'Big Comic Original' from the mid-'90s into the early 2000s, and Tenma is very much his moral focal point: a brilliant surgeon whose life unravels after he chooses to save a child over a VIP, setting off a chain of events that become the spine of the entire story. It's easy for people to get mixed up because the name 'Tenma' also appears in older work by Osamu Tezuka — Dr. Tenma is the scientist who creates the robot boy in 'Astro Boy' — but those are totally different characters and creators. Urasawa’s Tenma is grounded in modern psychological thriller territory, built to wrestle with guilt, responsibility, and identity across the 18 volumes of the manga. If you want to see exactly how Urasawa made that character tick, the manga itself is where the layers of Tenma's choices and consequences unfold in the most satisfying way, and the anime adaptation captures a lot of the mood if you prefer watching. Personally, I keep thinking about those moral crossroads whenever I reread 'Monster' — it’s tricky, haunting stuff.

There’s something quietly unsettling about picturing Dr. Tenma as everything he is and then pinning an exact age on him, but if you want a straight read: throughout most of 'Monster' I see him as being in his early thirties. He’s a fully trained neurosurgeon when the central events kick off, and the story’s incidents—career choices, moral crossroads, and the fallout of his decision to operate on Johan—fit someone who’s passed residency and has a few years of real hospital experience under his belt. If you try to do the math from the bits of timeline we get in the manga and anime, Tenma is often estimated to be roughly 30–35 during the main arc. The plot isn’t a one-week thriller; it sprawls over several years, with flashbacks and jumps. So while he’s portrayed as a relatively young, idealistic doctor at the outset (think early thirties), that same man ages into his mid-to-late thirties by the time the final threads tie up. The scars—emotional and physical—match that slow depletion of youth more than a sudden change. I like picturing him in this age range because it makes his choices feel painfully plausible: not so green that he’s naïve, but not so jaded that he’s lost his moral compass. That gap between training and lived experience is where 'Monster' extracts its moral horror, and Tenma’s age sits perfectly in that crossroads.

I was stunned the first time I watched that opening scene in 'Monster' — the way everything tightens around that one decision is brilliant. When the boy Johan is brought in, he's got a severe head injury from a gunshot and is basically bleeding into his brain. Tenma doesn't hesitate: he performs emergency neurosurgery, essentially a craniotomy to relieve the pressure, remove the damaged tissue and whatever debris or clot is causing the intracranial hemorrhage. He stabilizes Johan, removes the immediate threat to his life, and stitches things up so the boy can wake up instead of slipping into irreversible brain death. What always gets me is the moral weight layered on top of the medical move. Tenma chooses to operate on Johan over a politically important patient, defying orders and risking his career. That choice is what physically saves Johan — but narratively it sets off this monstrous chain of events. Clinically speaking, Tenma saved the boy by prioritizing immediate life-saving intervention: control the bleeding, reduce intracranial pressure, and repair damage so oxygen can return to the brain. Emotionally, I still feel that tension: a technically clean save that spirals into moral chaos. It’s the kind of surgical scene that sticks with you, not just because of the knife work, but because of the consequences that follow.

There’s a scene in 'Monster' that always sticks with me: Tenma choosing to operate on a little boy instead of the mayor. That choice isn’t just surgical ethics played out on the panel — it’s the hinge of everything that follows. After he saves Johan, the hospital’s politics kick in hard. Tenma had been on track for a big promotion and a comfortable life, but the administration valued status and public image over the life of a nameless child. By putting a human life first, he upset the pecking order. The hospital responded with cold bureaucracy: stalled promotions, social ostracism, and his relationship with Eva collapsing because it became inconvenient for them to be associated with someone who defied the institution. As the story moves on, things get darker. Murders happen, pressure from the outside mounts, and the hospital looks for someone to blame. Tenma is scapegoated and pushed out — not because he was incompetent, but because he made a moral choice that embarrassed powerful people. He leaves not purely out of anger, but because the place that was supposed to uphold life had betrayed its own principles. What really made him walk away was a mix of disillusionment, personal loss, and the obligation he feels toward the boy he saved. That obligation eventually drags him into chasing the truth about Johan, turning his life inside-out. If you read 'Monster' again with that arc in mind, Tenma’s departure isn’t just a plot beat; it’s Urasawa showing how fragile professional honor is when institutions prioritize reputation. Tenma leaves because the hospital ceased to be the kind of place a surgeon could work in with a clear conscience — and because the consequences of his one humane act refuse to let him stay comfortable.

I’ll speak plainly: it depends on what you mean by “confronting.” If you mean the very first time Tenma comes face-to-face with Johan on-screen, that happens right at the start of 'Monster' — Episode 1 (and the immediate fallout in Episode 2). Tenma operates on the young boy and that encounter sets everything in motion. I still get chills remembering the quiet hospital corridors in that scene; I rewatched it once on a rainy afternoon and paused so many times just to take in how simple and devastating that moment is. If you mean the first time Tenma squares off with Johan as the adult villain — a full, intentional confrontation where Tenma tries to confront Johan about what he’s done — you’re looking much later in the series. The show deliberately teases and defers those direct showdowns, scattering smaller face-offs and uncanny meetings across the middle episodes and saving the most meaningful exchanges for the endgame. Their long-anticipated face-to-face reckoning is part of the climax of the series and is wrapped up in the finale (Episode 74), so if you’re hunting for the emotional, moral confrontation that rewards the whole chase, that’s where the payoff lands. So short: first on-screen meeting = Episode 1 (and 2); the big, deliberate confrontations unfold later and culminate in Episode 74. How you define ‘confronting’ changes which episode feels like the “first” one to you.

As a lifelong 'Doctor Who' enthusiast, I've always been fascinated by the blend of science fiction and real-world science in the series. 'The Science of Doctor Who' by Paul Parsons is a fantastic exploration of this. It dives into the physics behind time travel, the biology of alien species, and the feasibility of the TARDIS. The book breaks down complex concepts into digestible bits, making it accessible even if you're not a science buff. What I love most is how it balances entertainment with education. It doesn't just explain the science; it also examines how 'Doctor Who' has inspired real scientific thought. From the concept of regeneration to the ethics of artificial intelligence, the book covers a wide range of topics. It's a must-read for anyone who's ever wondered if the show's wildest ideas could one day become reality.

Oh, honey, sit down 'cause this is a whole vibe! The latest Doctor isn’t just any Time Lord — Ncuti Gatwa is officially rocking the TARDIS as the first openly queer and Black Doctor, and that is chef’s kiss for representation! At least according to The Independent, this is a “groundbreaking” new era for the show. And let me tell you, fans did not see that coming — it’s like the universe just screamed, “Time to shake things up!” And yeah, he's not tiptoeing around: Gatwa’s Doctor is suggested to be quite vocally queer in the Christmas episode, hinting at a bold and beautiful new direction. So buckle up — the Whoniverse is serving some high-key LGBTQ energy!

The antagonist in 'Doctor Glas' isn't a typical villain with sinister motives or grand schemes. It's more complex—the real adversary is Reverend Gregorius, but not in the way you'd expect. He's not some evil mastermind; he's just a morally repugnant figure who represents everything Doctor Glas despises. This clergyman abuses his power, emotionally torturing his much younger wife, and embodies the hypocrisy of societal norms that Glas rebels against. The tension comes from Glas's internal struggle—his growing hatred for Gregorius clashes with his ethical duty as a physician. The beauty of this conflict lies in its subtlety; the antagonist isn't some mustache-twirling villain but the suffocating moral decay of early 20th-century society that Gregorius personifies.