Are There Manga Series Where Protagonists Deserved Better Fates?

Man, where do I even start with this? It's heartbreaking how many amazing female characters get done dirty by their own stories. Take Nina from 'Fullmetal Alchemist'—her fate still haunts me. She was just a kid caught in her father's monstrous experiments, and her ending was so brutally tragic that it overshadowed any hope of justice. Then there's Sayaka Miki from 'Madoka Magica'. Her descent into despair felt like the narrative was punishing her for daring to hope. And don't get me started on 'Akame ga Kill!'—pretty much every heroine in that series got a raw deal. Leone’s death especially stung because she fought so hard for a better world, only to die alone in an alley. It’s like some writers think suffering equals depth, but sometimes, it just feels cruel.

Sometimes, I find myself reflecting on certain anime characters whose endings just felt rushed or unsatisfactory. Take 'Shinji Ikari' from 'Neon Genesis Evangelion.' Here’s a character who goes through immense psychological trauma throughout the series, only to be left with an ending that, while impactful, leaves so many questions unanswered. What happens to his relationships? What’s next for his character development? For someone who fought so hard to come to terms with himself, his ambiguities in the end felt unjust. Then there's 'Kenshin Himura' from 'Rurouni Kenshin.' This swordsman is all about redemption, but the ending seems to gloss over his internal struggles and the consequences of his past. It’s like we needed an extra episode to really dig deep into how he reconciles his violent past with his peaceful future. An ending that addressed these themes more thoroughly would have brought Keshin full circle in a truly satisfying way. Lastly, ‘Araragi Koyomi’ from the 'Monogatari' series deserves a more considerate wrap-up. His character development is phenomenal, but the grand finale sometimes feels cluttered with loose threads. It's somewhat frustrating, considering how intricately his relationships and personal growth are woven throughout the series. Fans invested so much in these arcs, only to witness a conclusion that lacks the depth it warrants. A stronger focus on the themes of connection and identity would have provided the resolution we craved.

It's so common to chat about our favorite novels and immediately fall into nostalgia or frustration over our beloved characters and their fates. Like, take 'The Fault in Our Stars' by John Green. Hazel Grace and Augustus Waters are just so beautifully crafted, but honestly, they didn't deserve the heart-wrenching endings they got. They experienced this intense love in the face of tragedy, and yet, the harsh reality of their illnesses felt a bit punishing. I mean, couldn't they at least have gotten a glimmer of hope? Their story conveyed such raw emotion that I found myself yearning for a happier outcome, where they could have had more time together or at least a more satisfactory resolution. Then there's '1984' by George Orwell. Winston Smith's journey through totalitarian oppression felt utterly intense and maddening. Watching him become a shell of his former self by the end was haunting. He sought a truth, a connection, and to have still faced such bleakness in the world was heartbreaking. Those themes hit hard, especially with current state of affairs echoing Orwell’s warnings. More than anything, I wish Winston had found some spark of rebellion that led to hope instead of despair. Characters like these stay with you long after you finish reading, their struggles and unfulfilled dreams lingering in memory, making me realize that sometimes a wrapped-up ending isn’t always the best for them—or us.

The 'she deserves better' trend has definitely made waves in manga storytelling, and I’ve noticed it shifting how female characters are written. Gone are the days when heroines just existed to prop up male leads or suffer endlessly for drama. Nowadays, readers demand depth—characters like those in 'Fruits Basket' or 'Skip Beat!' showcase growth, agency, and realistic struggles. Writers seem more mindful of giving women goals beyond romance, and it’s refreshing. That said, some authors overcorrect, making female leads flawless 'queens' who can do no wrong, which feels just as hollow. Balance is key—think Yona from 'Yona of the Dawn,' who stumbles but fights for her growth. The trend’s pushing manga toward nuanced writing, and I’m here for it, even if some attempts miss the mark. It’s like watching the medium evolve in real time.

In any story, it's a bummer when characters we love don't get the arcs they deserve. A classic example for me is 'Attack on Titan' and the character of Reiner Braun. His journey is absolutely fascinating—a warrior turned reluctant hero. I wish we could have seen more of his internal struggle portrayed in the earlier seasons. Instead of just being a soldier of Marley, there's such depth to him as someone caught in the conflict, grappling with his identity, and the heartbreaking sacrifices he made. His complexities could have turned him into a fan-favorite with a bit more development. It doesn't help that most of the series focuses on Eren and the others, but Reiner's hidden pain and the weight of his decisions felt so real to me. I’d love to have explored the shades of grey in his character further, asking questions of loyalty and the cost of war. Imagine an OVA dedicated solely to him! That could have been epic! A character like that deserves the limelight, and it felt like a missed opportunity to truly flesh out his narrative through the series. I think fans could have connected on an emotional level with him more if he were given the narrative spotlight he warranted!

In my opinion, a character who really deserved better treatment is Mikasa from 'Attack on Titan.' She's a powerhouse of strength and loyalty, yet the way her story unfolds leaves a lot to be desired. So many moments throughout the series position her as one of the strongest fighters, fiercely dedicated to protecting Eren and others she loves. However, as the plot progresses, she becomes almost sidelined, dealing with her feelings rather than taking the center stage she rightfully earned. One of her defining traits is her fierce independence, yet the narrative reduces her to a love-struck follower, which undercuts all her development. It feels like such a disservice to a character who has shown time and again that she could carry the story on her shoulders. The way the conclusion plays out, with the focus primarily on Eren, neglects the impactful story Mikasa could have had if she'd been given agency over her decisions. Imagine if she had stepped up to make a choice that impacted the fate of humanity, reflecting on her growth rather than leaning on the men around her. As a fan, it was frustrating to see a character with so much potential end up feeling like a secondary character in her own story. She's a warrior, but her journey painted her more as a caretaker, and I truly believe she deserved better than that!

The ending of 'Tokyo Ghoul' hit me like a freight train—I wasn't ready for how brutally it dismantled any hope for a happy resolution. Kaneki's arc, especially in ':re', felt like watching someone slowly drown in their own despair. The way Ishida Sui juxtaposed moments of tenderness with unrelenting tragedy made the final chapters almost unbearable. What really got me was the ambiguity—you're left wondering if any of the suffering was worth it, or if the characters were just pawns in a cruel joke. I spent days dissecting panels, trying to find hidden meaning in the bloodstained pages. What elevates it beyond simple shock value is how it mirrors real-life cycles of violence. There's no neat bow tying everything together, just survivors picking up pieces in a world that refuses to change. That lingering sense of futility stuck with me longer than any dramatic death scene ever could.

I just finished 'Oyasumi Punpun' yesterday and I don't think I'll ever be the same. It's not just sadness in a traditional tragic-romance way; it's this profound, existential despair that settles in your bones. You follow Punpun from childhood to adulthood, watching his innocence curdle into something twisted by loneliness and trauma. The art shifts from simple to grotesque to match his mental state, which is a brilliant, brutal choice. The ending isn't a single, cathartic cry moment. It's more like the quiet, hollow ache after all the screaming is done. You're left staring at the last panel, feeling complicit somehow, wondering if any of the small moments of connection were enough. It's devastating because it feels so true to a certain kind of life—not operatic tragedy, but the slow erosion of a person. I needed to sit in silence for a good hour afterwards, maybe more.

I think the key is to create the right environment. Sit down with her, maybe during a calm moment at home. Tell her that she is amazing and worthy of love that lifts her up. Share your observations about the situations she encounters and how they may not reflect her true worth. Use examples, maybe from your experiences, to make it relatable. Empower her to recognize her strength. Let her know you’re always there for support, no matter what decisions she makes. Keep it light but sincere, so she feels the honesty behind your words.

Darius Kellner is the heart and soul of 'Darius the Great Deserves Better,' and honestly, reading his journey felt like reconnecting with an old friend. The book picks up after his return from Iran, where he’s finally found a sense of belonging. But life back in Portland isn’t as smooth as he hoped—he’s navigating first love, family expectations, and the lingering weight of depression. What I adore about Darius is how raw and relatable he is. He overthws everything, from his boyfriend’s feelings to his place in his Persian heritage, and that anxiety is portrayed with such tenderness. Adib Khorram’s writing makes Darius feel so alive—his voice is full of dry humor and vulnerability. Like when he frets over whether he’s 'worthy' of happiness, or when he bonds with his little sister over tea. It’s those small moments that stuck with me. The book doesn’t shy away from messy emotions, and that’s what makes Darius unforgettable. By the end, I just wanted to hug him and say, 'You absolutely deserve better,' because he does—and watching him realize that is a gift.