Chapter 74
After Eriri left, Lucien D. Blackthorn leaned back against his pillow and turned his thoughts to the ending of Attack on Titan.
No matter how he turned it over in his mind, he couldn't land on an ending that satisfied him.
The series opens with blinding momentum—simple at first, then widening step by step into a labyrinth of factions, history, and grief that drags readers forward helplessly. In the Marley arc, once the world came fully into view, the story still surged, bold and assured. Holes were filled. New mysteries were planted. Curiosity sharpened.
And then came the finale that stunned countless readers.
Questions everyone had chased—origins, the "worm"-like source, the mechanism of Titan power—were all answered in that last chapter. But the most divisive point was this: everything Eren Yeager thought and did traced back to that primal scene—his mother devoured by a Titan in front of him. From then on, revenge smoldered and drove him to the end of the world.
Yet the truth was… Eren himself orchestrated the event that killed his mother.
"Can you really do that?" Lucien murmured inwardly. "Where are the ethics in that choice?"
You could call it a narrative necessity—only a wound that deep could ignite Eren's path and the plot that followed. But if so… what were all the pain and struggle and sacrifice for?
Many readers wrestled with it and still couldn't make peace with the conclusion.
Of course, a thousand readers hold a thousand Hamlets. After thinking it through again—helped, perhaps, by the "master-level manga creation" skill his system had granted him—Lucien felt he could glimpse what Hajime Isayama might have intended.
His understanding went like this:
In Attack on Titan, there are really only two "complete" solutions to the hatred between Eldians and the rest of humanity.
One is the Jaegerist path: unleash the Rumbling and flatten the world beyond Paradis, leaving only Eldians. End war by erasing opponents.
The other is Zeke's Euthanasia Plan: through Founding power, rewrite biology and memory so Eldians can no longer reproduce, and let the conflict fade away without further bloodshed.
As for "reconciliation"… given human nature and history in the series, it's wishful thinking.
Eren, bearing both the Founding Titan and the Attack Titan, searched for a third way. He believed only by erasing Titan power from Eldians could the root of conflict be severed.
In the Paths, through contact with Ymir Fritz, Eren discovered she had always had the agency to end the curse—to stop the forced cycle of devouring and to let Titans disappear. Yet for two thousand years she never did. She watched, silent and obedient, as the tragedy repeated.
Why?
Lucien's answer: Ymir was bound by a love so twisted it became pain—something like Stockholm syndrome. Despite power like a god's, she remained shackled to King Fritz's will.
Eren realized Ymir had been waiting—for someone who would push her that last step, break the chain, and free her from that terrible attachment.
He believed he was that person. In the Paths, he embraced Ymir: You're free. I'll take you out of here. She wept, moved—but could not decide.
Emotion and reason weren't enough. Ymir needed a living proof—an enacted choice that broke blood-bond obedience and chose true freedom.
That proof could only be Mikasa.
Only Mikasa, who loved Eren beyond words, could lay down the Ackerman-blood "instinct," exercise her own free will, and kill the "anti-human" Eren with her own hands—for the sake of everyone else. Only then, with that living example before her, could Ymir finally defy King Fritz and cut the source of causality—the Titan power—at its root.
And when Mikasa made that choice, when she kissed Eren's severed head, Ymir—standing behind her—smiled for the first time.
Ymir found the courage to break free. Mikasa, too, severed her bonds and gained her own freedom. Eren got the result he sought.
The price was his life.
…
That was Lucien's personal reading—his subjective guess. To him, it was one of the best. Cold-eyed, it aligned with the story's own logic and the hard edges of the world Isayama built. Some devices are hard to accept—even repellent—but on balance, the merits outweighed the flaws. Given more time, Isayama might have massaged the finale into something more broadly embraced.
What that version would look like, Lucien didn't know. It was also a question he would one day have to face himself.
He set the thought aside. There's time. Attack on Titan was only on Volume 4; finishing was a long way off. According to his current schedule, he wouldn't have to make that final call for at least a year.
"Alright… I'll puzzle it out later," he whispered, exhaling.
His thoughts slid to the next card in his creative deck: Kaguya-sama: Love is War.
High on his plan, it was a titan in its own right—beloved, buzzed about, endlessly meme'd. The TV anime adaptation had dominated for three straight seasons; clips and fanworks flooded every platform. He adored the anime—he'd rewatched each season more than ten times.
The manga, though… was another story. Where AoT's ending could be defended as arguable or "bitterly coherent," Kaguya's final stretch, in his view, simply collapsed. Plot logic frayed. Characters bent for contrivance. It hurt.
If he drew Kaguya, he would anchor it to the anime's heart: campus, romance, comedy. Keep it tight around the Shuchiin student council's leads and their closest friends. As for chaebol wars, family intrigue, class stratification?
Forget it. Don't touch what doesn't serve this story.
"That's the plan—for now," he decided. "After Slam Dunk. Or after discharge."
His head throbbed. Too much thinking in a still-fragile body. He closed his eyes and slipped into sleep.
…
On the tram home, Eriri Spencer Sawamura (pen name Eri Kashiwagi) was a cocktail of flustered and annoyed, a hot knot of embarrassment lodged beneath her ribs.
It was the second time she'd fallen for Lucien's tricks.
"He did it on purpose! Definitely!" she huffed.
She'd always believed confessions were for kids—that blurting feelings was almost childish. Yet when Lucien had said, "The moonlight is so beautiful…" her heart had nearly leapt from her chest.
Why?
She'd thought it over seriously. If he were serious, would she accept?
They liked the same things. They could talk for hours without trying. She had never found a friend who matched her wavelength like this. She loved… being around him.
But what would happen if friendship became romance? Pure, easy companionship would knot into bonds and expectations. And Lucien—he was still fighting cancer. No one could promise tomorrow.
Time. Life and death. Those were distances nobody could cross with a single yes.
"It's better to stay friends…" she whispered. "That's safer."
Besides, with his condition, he shouldn't be thinking about dating. He was just bored, teasing her to pass the time.
Realizing that, she breathed easier.
After dinner, Eriri posted Slam Dunk Volume 9, Chapters 72 and 73 to Whale's account. She browsed comments for a bit, sketched for a while, then slipped into the bath.
Not long after she sank into the warmth, her phone vibrated.
Satomi Azusa's name lit the screen.
Eriri put her chin on the tub's edge, tapped accept. "Hey, what is it at this hour?"
"Eriri-chan, are you in the bath? I hear water," Azusa teased.
"You really have good ears."
"Nothing escapes me," she declared.
"Creepy," Eriri muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. You're the best, Azusa."
"Hmph, that's better. Anyway—listen! After school I went to the gym to watch practice. Miyu and Hitomi came too."
"And?"
"Guess what I saw."
"Don't make me guess. Spill."
"Makishima-senpai got confessed to!"
"By who? Hitomi?"
"Nope. A first-year girl."
"And?"
"He rejected her—right away. Said he's only thinking about basketball and leading the team to Nationals. Nothing else for now."
"This schoolgirl… wrong timing," Eriri sighed.
"Right? Hitomi thought so too. She's decided not to confess yet."
"Mm. Good call."
"Hitomi's going to sign up as a manager's assistant—maybe a cheer helper. She'll get to know him first. Then, after we're eliminated by Seiryō, she'll comfort him and confess!"
"What a—deviously well-timed plan."
"Hehe… my idea."
"Figures," Eriri said, half exasperated, half impressed.
Azusa might be a gossip gremlin, but when it came to relationships, she had instincts. Junior high had left her with a full driver's license in romance.
While they were on the topic, Eriri hesitated—then decided to ask. There was something she still couldn't untangle on her own.
"Azusa, can I ask you something? About… confessions."
"Oho? Who confessed to you now, Eriri?"
"No, no, it's a friend."
On the other end, Azusa sat up straighter. A friend, huh? Coming from tsundere Eriri, that likely meant… Eriri.
"What happened to your friend?" Azusa asked smoothly.
Eriri sank deeper into the bath until only her face touched the air. The warmth steadied her.
"It was just… that person said something like a confession. She misunderstood. At first she wanted to refuse, but after she realized it was a misunderstanding, she felt… weirdly unhappy. Why would that be?"
"Maybe he made it ambiguous on purpose," Azusa said. "Some people do that to save face if they're rejected—schemers. If he tossed it out casually, better to stay away."
"It's not me. It's my friend," Eriri said quickly.
"Right, right—your friend," Azusa purred. "So, are you sure it wasn't a confession and it really was a misunderstanding? Your friend was going to refuse, but when the tension broke, she felt… disappointed?"
"Maybe… it was for other reasons," Eriri mumbled.
"If it's other reasons, it means your friend actually likes him—but is suppressing it because she's worried. So when it turns out he didn't confess, she feels let down."
Eriri blinked at the ceiling. Like him? Me? "No way. My friend doesn't like that person. You must be mistaken."
"Mmm… could be," Azusa said lightly—and entirely unconvinced. This was prime tsundere.
You never reason a tsundere into admitting anything. Ever.
Eriri knew Azusa's mouth was a sieve. If she kept talking, Azusa would connect every dot—and tell two more people by morning.
"Anyway, thanks," Eriri said, ending the thread.
They chatted about the tournament schedule and club deadlines a little more, then hung up.
Eriri stared at the ripples in the bathwater.
Like him? Impossible. He's not even as handsome as Rukawa Kaede. Well… maybe a tiny bit similar around the eyes…
She grimaced. Thinking hurt.
"Ugh, enough," she muttered, finally letting her head tip back, sinking into the warmth until thought itself dissolved.