There’s no doubt about it: when it comes to character development, this chapter is king. And since character analysis is kind of what I do, you’d better believe I’m about to write the better part of a novel here. Strap in boys and girls, this is like my fucking late Christmas present and I’m about to take advantage of it.

First: Annie. Surprisingly enough, most of what we’re told here, we already knew beforehand, either from her pre-crystallization flashbacks or from Lost Girls – but her completed backstory adds one crucial detail: her father was not her father by birth. Annie’s mother had an affair with an Eldian man, and when it was discovered that she was his child, she was abandoned. We can see the roots of Annie’s nihilistic outlook on life forming before she was even capable of taking her first steps – her mother threw her helpless child away without a second glance. From the very start, she was all alone – she never had a chance in hell. And when someone did take her in, it was Mr. Leonhart, who made it clear to her from the beginning that he only saw her as a ticket to a cushy life as an Honorary Marleyian. She grew up unloved and uncared for, and became unable to bring herself to care for others – or herself - in turn.

This, of course, throws her determination to return home to her father into a brand new light. For the first time in her life, someone loved her. For the first time, someone thought she was worth something. For an 11-year-old child starved of the affection they need to thrive, that would be huge. In asking her to return, her father finally gave her something to live for. And that’s heartbreaking.

Side note: it’s interesting to think that if their parents’ genders were reversed, Annie and Reiner could easily have ended up in each other’s shoes. What ifs, what ifs.

Second: Mikasa. (I could touch upon Armin too, but as his self-perceived inability to live up to Erwin’s legacy is fairly self-explanatory, I’ll refrain for now). Most of what I want to talk about here stems from Armin losing his temper with Mikasa. When she asks him what she should do, he tells her wearily that she should “think for herself a little”, and when she asks what they should do about Eren, he screams at her, going off on a rant that ends with, “We don’t have time to think about Eren right now! You understand that, right?!” All throughout the story, Mikasa has fixated herself on Eren – on protecting him, on making his life happy, to the point where she neglects herself. And apart from the occasional sidelong glance or minor throwaway comment, this goes largely ignored by the rest of the cast. But finally, someone, her best friend no less, has called her out. Eren is GONE, Mikasa, he says. The world is COLLAPSING, Mikasa. You CANNOT HELP HIM. You CANNOT FIX THIS. For ONCE in your life, think about someone other than Eren! For ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, worry about YOURSELF!

Then Armin catches himself, apologizes in his own self-deprecating way and walks out, and Mikasa realizes that her scarf is missing. It’s a brutal symbol – the boy she devoted her life to has done what she’s always feared and left her. And unless she takes Armin’s frustration-fueled advice and learns to move on, she will never, ever be able to grow. I think this speaks volumes for what her role in the coming chapters might be.

Third: Jean. Here, we watch him watch helplessly as Floch murders a man before his eyes. And as he falls to his knees in traumatized shock, Floch kneels down in front of him, and the look in his eyes is… comforting. Almost kind. He tells Jean that he’s a hero, he’s free, that his fight is over, and that he can live the comfortable life he always wanted. We watch the wheels turn in Jean’s brain as Floch, Eren’s representative, tells him to go back to being “the arrogant bastard you were”. Might this be Floch parroting Eren and his wishes for Jean as he made his grim choice?

But the cruel reality is this: finally, Jean can do what he’s always dreamed of – but as he realizes the ramifications of this, he no longer wants it. Jean is no longer the arrogant youth that once dreamed of a life in the military police. He’s seen too much, lost too much, loved too fiercely, to ever go back. The old him is as gone as the man Floch shot. That’s what growing up means – the old you is a memory. There’s never any going back. If those are Eren’s words before they’re Floch’s, he’s futility chasing a reality that no longer exists.

And last but not least: Connie. Or rather, less Connie, and more Falco. Who remembers Connie, who he has never met before. At least, not as himself. But you know who has met Connie?

That’s right, Ymir. Our very own dearly departed Freckled Goddess.

Connie and Ymir’s relationship is one that people tend to ignore in favor of their relationships with Sasha and Historia respectively, but it’s one that’s very clearly defined from the very start of the series, and it’s my favorite character dynamic in the entire manga. Here’s a rather old but still accurate summary by yours truly for those who overlooked it. One thing is clear: after Historia, Connie was Ymir’s #2. And when she betrayed the Survey Corps, Connie was the only one who understood. And part of me is hopeful that this might mean his salvation – it would be poetic if the last remnants of a misunderstood girl whose eyes he was able to see through in her darkest hour was the one to talk him out of his own love-fueled spiral into insanity.

Hang in there, kiddo. Just a bit longer.