Assuming that the whole 'mahiru is the vessel needed to bring back the count and the 9th servamp will be the servamp of vainglory' theory will be correct, it's interesting how both mahiru and touma can be accused of this sin even if the way it applies to them is opposed.
What touma wants is to be acknowledged and to that end he was willing to become the villain who destroyed the world before mahiru and tsurugi managed to change his mind:
Mahiru's way of being vainglorious seems a lot more positive at first because he wants to be a hero who saves others, but it's self-destructive and encourages laziness in others:
But thankfully we see mahiru starting to let go of the need to make other people proud of him and to prioritize making himself proud in his conversation with tsurugi:
and later when mahiru has a meltdown because he fears his uncle might be dead and suggests sacrificing his life to save the world kuro rightfully yells at mahiru for acting hypocritical and not listening to his own advice:
(I want to mention here that I really love how horrified kuro looks as he realizes that mahiru's reckless hero behaviour comes from a very self-destructing place:
because not a lot of manga I know really acknowledge that maybe the way a lot of their protagonists try to be heroic is actually pretty unhealthy and shouldn't be encouraged? Like Sigurd pointed out at the C3 meeting, it's kind of shameful that the children have to save the day)
Which is why I love that mahiru decided to trust kuro to handle tsubaki without him going with him:
He decides to stay back with everyone else, showing that he has learned that he doesn't need to be the one to do everything and can stay back with the others to buy kuro time.
Interestingly we see touma doing something similar. Opposed to his old need to have the whole world acknowledge him he now wishes for everyone to believe he's dead and he's helping to protect the city by creating a huge barrier without making it known that's he the one doing this:
He's helping the protagonists seemingly with no intention of earning acknowledgement for it.
I think in a way it could be cool of servamp to subvert the shouned trope that for the finale battle the only one able to defeat the big bad is the protagonist while everyone else just watches on from the sidelines, not allowed to do anything because this is the protagonist's moment of glory.
What if lily's plan when he put kuro in mahiru's path was that if kuro tried to stop tsubaki at the gate surely his eve would need to be there with him, right? Because of course he needs his eve to fight and then there's also the distance limit. So why not make the vessel you need at that gate for the ritual to work kuro's eve? Then the vessel would be at the place where you need them without you even needing to do something because naturally they would be thinking they are doing the right thing by going with kuro to fight tsubaki together. And surely someone as vainglorious as mahiru would never pass up the opportunity to be the hero who stops tsubaki. It's foolproof!
Unless of course before the ritual the vessel learned to let go of their vainglorious nature, accepted that it's okay to take a step into the background and trust in others. And additionally also found a way to break through the whole forced proximity thing that the servamp and eves had going on.
I don't know, I feel like it would be a neat bow on mahiru's character arc and a unique way to thawrt the antagonists' plans if the creation of the servamp of vainglory failed because the 'it has to be me' guy they wanted to use as the vessel decided against glory and stayed back to let his partner handle things with tsubaki alone because he trusts him. Kuro on the other hand wants to make up for his past regrets and resolve the conflict through communication this time. Learning to trust in himself again by managing to talk tsubaki out of going through with the ritual on his own would be a logical conclusion to kuro's arc.
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I can't stop thinking of Kyanako's Order of Attack au... there's something so moving to me about how things getting so much worse could be what finally causes Amane to get better -- seeing Fuuta dying may be the final straw of getting her to rethink her rejection of medicine. Been a while since I've attempted something whump-y, this was fun to work with.
Tw for mentions/contemplation of death. I don't go into detail about the cult but the doctrines are implied through it all.
Fuuta was not a big fan of dying.
When he imagined his own death, he always pictured it as something dramatic and fast. Action heroes going out in a show of explosions and gunfire. Fantasy characters meeting the shining end of a blade. Even when he accepted his place in Milgram, it filled his mind with images of gallows and electric chairs.
Whatever this slow, lengthy fever was, it was pissing him off.
He’d lost all sense of time. He could no longer tell which hour the prison bells were marking -- morning and night blended together. Dreaming and waking blended together. His head injury and broken leg and broken bones blended together. It was all just pain at the end of the day. He had nonstop visitors that kept him awake and asked him too many questions and prodded his injuries and made his head spin. Somehow, he was simultaneously alone every time he rolled over to talk to someone. Painfully, suffocatingly alone.
If Kotoko was going to kill him with those ridiculous emo boots of hers, she should have just done it. He was losing his mind here: devoid of all energy, suffering through broken bones and a cracked head, and boiling in an increasingly fiery fever. Maybe that was the reason he stopped commenting when he watched Amane pocket the medicine Shidou had left him. Maybe that was why he’d stopped following Shidou’s instructions himself. Even after losing an eye and taking a beating herself, Amane always looked at peace. He was tired of dealing with all of this. He wanted a bit of that peace.
Regardless of why, it was working. His fever had quickly gone from the biggest pain in his ass to the very thing that dulled his racing thoughts.
He awoke suddenly, or maybe he’d already been awake. He couldn’t feel anything in his limbs. There was only a breathless heat around him. He raised himself into a sitting position, looking for a drink. Moving his head felt like one of those glitching computer windows that leaves a trail of copies behind it. The room swam around him. His eyes moved absently around him.
Fuuta picked up the glass that someone had left him. His fingers were clumsy, and it immediately went crashing to the ground. He hardly heard the noise as it broke apart on the concrete below.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d just go get a drink himself. Shidou told him not to get up without help. But what did he know? Thinking of the man ordering him around only drove Fuuta to step out of bed even quicker. He cried out, pain shooting through his leg. That was right, it was broken…
Fuuta looked down, finding himself on the ground. It was so hot. Maybe this is what she felt, he thought numbly. Was it this slow for her too? Probably not. She had no regrets to fill the time like he did. The heroes got quick, beautiful deaths, and it was the villains who had to suffer the long ones.
He lifted his right palm from where it had caught his fall. The shattered glass on the floor had cut into it. Shattered glass? What had broken? He stared blankly at the blood dripping down.
He didn’t have the strength to raise himself up. He was burning. Why was he on the ground? Was he bleeding? He could barely breathe. What was he doing here, anyway? He just wanted to curl up and sleep. He was so weak... just to lie down... he wouldn't have the strength to get back up again. Was that such a bad thing...?
A voice caught his attention. His eyes struggled to focus on the figure who’d come running into the cell. He couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but he was happy when she pressed her cool little hands against his forehead.
He allowed her to prop him up next to the bed. She held onto his hand, squeezing it tight. Why was she holding it like that? That hand was bleeding. When did that happen?
Her arms wrapped tightly around him. He wanted to shove her away -- it was too hot -- but couldn’t. In his ear, he could make out her words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, Fuuta. Don’t leave me alone. I’m so sorry...”
As she pulled back, he recognized Amane. Her uninjured eye was filled with tears. Was she upset? He thought he’d been making her happy. He wanted to keep making her happy. He’d never made anyone happy before.
He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. They all scrambled up in his mouth. He felt the cell swirling around him.
Amane raised her voice. She looked desperately upwards. “This can’t be --! This isn’t right!”
Fuuta looked up at the ceiling. There was nothing there.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
She continued talking. Fuuta was too busy studying the ceiling. She was shouting. Or maybe crying. Fuuta didn’t like that she was so upset. Huh, had there been someone there? He surveyed the empty cell. What was he doing on the ground?
He looked down at his hand. The sheet from his bed had been pulled down and wrapped hastily around it. Why? His eyes felt sticky as he blinked. Everything hurt. It was so hot. What was going on? He was so angry. He was so scared. He wanted to cry. Why was he here? Why couldn’t he just hurry up and die already?
The next time she entered, Fuuta recognized Amane instantly. Her one hand pointed to him, the other held onto someone else. The second figure hurried over to him.
Fuuta was not a big fan of dying. Shidou reassured him he wouldn’t.
—
“You’re wearing the eyepatch,” Fuuta observed.
He was playing a dangerous game, drawing attention to it like that. He was too exhausted, and his curiosity won out over his better judgment. If Amane was going to explode with one of her typical speeches, he’d just let her.
She didn’t.
Amane’s hand drifted up to her eye. It had been hastily covered before, but now it was cleaned and wrapped in professional-grade materials. She simply said, “Kajiyama Fuuta. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“But--”
“-- But I’m better, yeah.”
Amane nodded, her shoulders releasing.
“Oi, I haven’t seen you in a while. Not since…” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Shidou had told him what happened, but it was difficult to believe. He couldn’t quite trust his own memory of the night. No matter how much clearer his mind felt since receiving proper treatment, those days of fever still muddled together. He heard that Amane had up and switched her beliefs overnight -- she was now complacent about all of Shidou's treatments -- but Fuuta knew people didn't just change like that. He wanted to hear it for himself.
She lowered her gaze in shame. “I… I thought you hated me.” Her voice was steady. “As you should. I almost killed you. I accept any ill will you may feel.”
“I -- what? You’re wrong. You… it wasn’t…” He grabbed his head, grunting in frustration.
After standing awkwardly in the entryway the whole time, Amane took a few steps inside. She made it to his bedside when he finally collected his thoughts.
“It was your fucked up family or whatever that caused everything. They did this. And I went along and made things worse.” He looked away. His next words felt stupid to say to a little kid. He felt like the most pathetic, weak, loser. But it was too important not to say.
“They almost killed me. You saved me.”
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