Lingering trauma is present in each of Attack on Titan’s soldiers and Connie’s perpetual pain stems back to the transformed Titan state that his mother remains trapped in. Connie isn’t everyone’s favorite character and his plan to sacrifice Falco is reprehensible, but his desire to save his mother is something that anyone can understand. What’s so compelling about Connie’s struggle is that it becomes just as much of an opportunity for Armin to exhibit growth.
Armin still carries the weight of Erwin’s loss on his shoulders and in his eyes he’s only failed to honor his fallen comrade’s legacy. His attempt to sacrifice himself to save Falco is completely genuine and it’s another elegant occasion where the lines blur over who’s the real enemy. Armin holds himself to a high standard, but at this moment there’s no question that Erwin would be proud of him.
Fortunately, Armin’s selflessness is the catalyst for Connie’s change of heart. He laments over the person that he’s become and how his mother would be ashamed of someone who gives her a second chance at the cost of a child. He can’t help but feel that Sasha would also criticize him for his actions here and he’s left to wonder if the soldier that he’s become is someone who deserves to survive. This is a nice parallel to Armin’s own ambivalence over his existence in this moment and how he still feels indebted to Erwin.
It’s so powerful to have characters use the memories of fallen figures to prompt their own improvements. Emotions run high and everyone’s fragility is on display. However, this heightened homecoming is at its strongest during the muted moments of reflection. A lingering shot on Connie’s immobile Titan mom perfectly encapsulates her son’s pain.
The drama involving Connie’s Titan mother is the centerpiece of “Pride,” but there’s a quiet sequence between Mikasa and a wounded soldier that’s thematically louder than any action scene. The exchange between Mikasa and Louise isn’t much longer than a minute. However, it’s an interaction that will likely hang over Mikasa’s head for the rest of the series. Louise cherishes Mikasa’s discarded scarf and Mikasa can’t help but view her as a past version of herself who doesn’t have the strength to escape. The shifting symbolic weight of Mikasa’s scarf continues to impress. A scarf can comfort one person and suffocate another, not unlike how the emergence of the Founding Titan can be a divine intervention for some and a portent of doom for others.
Louise confidently tells Mikasa that she has no regrets, which becomes the mantra of “Pride.” It’s harrowing that in Louise’s final moments that she’s saddest over how she won’t see the new world that Eren builds. Mikasa’s heart breaks when Louise credits Mikasa for inspiring her to fight in this war. She clings onto Mikasa’s old security blanket and when she’s asked to give it back, she refuses. Mikasa has woken up and figured out her priorities, but she’s haunted over how past actions have formed new fighters who might just prolong this cycle of destruction. It’s a reminder of war’s domino effect and how every single decision splinters into dozens of consequences, some of which remain invisible until it’s too late.
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