Parallels Within the Trios - Female Disposability and Narrative Respect (2/2)
A crucial parallel between Sakura Haruno and Mikasa Ackerman lies in their positions within their respective trios. In both Naruto and Attack on Titan, the trio structure ostensibly suggests balance. In practice, however, Sakura and Mikasa occupy the same narrative role: the least respected, most disposable member, whose presence is secondary to the bond between the two male leads. In both stories, the male characters are granted complex, evolving dynamics with one another. Naruto and Sasuke are defined through rivalry, mutual recognition, and ideological conflict. Eren and Armin share a friendship rooted in shared dreams, intellectual exchange, and moral debate. These relationships are narratively prioritized, explored in depth, and treated as foundational to the story’s thematic core. By contrast, Sakura and Mikasa are denied the same narrative investment.
Eren’s relationship with Mikasa is notably marked by irritation and rejection rather than mutual understanding. Eren repeatedly expresses discomfort with Mikasa’s strength and protectiveness, viewing her as a rival rather than a partner. He constantly makes clear that her presence threatens his sense of autonomy. Her strength motivates him, not through admiration, but through resentment; he wants to surpass her in order to escape her protection. He shows no respect toward her as a character or her personal choices and decisions, also regarding her as obsessive.
In stark contrast, Eren consistently shows respect for Armin. He trusts Armin’s deductive abilities, values his strategic insight, and treats him as an intellectual equal. Their bond is built on shared aspirations, the dream of seeing the ocean. While Armin’s motivation is curiosity and wonder, Eren frames the ocean as a stolen human right. Their differing interpretations of the same dream create a dynamic that is deeply explored, connecting them ideologically as well as emotionally.
No such dynamic exists between Eren and Mikasa. Mikasa does not meaningfully understand Eren’s inner world, nor is she written to. When Connie asks her why Eren laughed after Sasha’s death, she is unable to respond, because she is clueless. She, again, fails to understand him. When Eren states that he has become strong enough that she no longer needs to protect him, Mikasa misunderstands his frustration as relief, interpreting his resentment as reassurance that they won’t be separated. This shows that Mikasa’s love is not rooted in understanding, but in attachment.
The imbalance is mirrored from Eren’s side. The narrative does not convincingly depict the development of Eren’s romantic feelings toward Mikasa. His progression from viewing her as a burden to supposedly loving her is not shown or interrogated in the manga. As a result, Mikasa functions less as a character and more as a placeholder, she exists to orbit Eren, not to challenge, mirror, or meaningfully influence him. Mikasa's strength is solely a plot device which serves as protection for Eren. It does not shape her identity as a person and does not create emotional burdens or internal conflict.
This structural marginalization extends to the trio as a whole. Eren operates as the “common link,” meaning that Mikasa and Armin’s relationship is never allowed to develop independently. Despite sharing trauma, loyalty, and emotional investment, Mikasa and Armin lack a defined dynamic, shared philosophy, or meaningful interpersonal conflict beyond their mutual desire to save Eren and, later, the world. Their bond exists emotionally, but not narratively.
The contrast becomes especially stark in the story’s conclusion. In the final chapters, Eren and Armin are granted closure through an extended conversation. They discuss Eren’s actions, his motivations, his feelings toward Mikasa, and the moral consequences of his choices. Their shared dream of the ocean is symbolised: the sea they once longed for becomes soaked in blood, a visual representation of the cost of Eren’s freedom. This exchange provides both emotional resolution and thematic payoff.
Mikasa, however, is denied a comparable moment. Instead of a dialogue that deepens her character or challenges her understanding, she is given the cabin scene, an idealized fantasy devoid of meaningful discussion. Unlike Eren and Armin’s conversation, the cabin scene offers no insight into Mikasa’s thoughts, beliefs, or moral stance. It does not advance her character; it suspends her in a passive, domestic role. The scene ultimately reduces her to a symbolic refuge rather than an intellectual or emotional equal. This is not a critique of what Mikasa and Eren may have discussed off screen, but of how Isayama chose to portray her as a vessel for longing.
Sakura’s relationship with Sasuke further illustrates how misogyny manifests not only through marginalization, but through the denial of narrative respect. Despite Sakura’s growth as a ninja and healer, Sasuke almost never acknowledges her strength, intelligence, or contributions. Outside of the single brief moment during the Chunin Exams, her abilities go unrecognized. Instead, Sasuke consistently belittles her, dismisses her presence, and repeatedly refers to her as “annoying.” His attitude toward her is not framed as flawed behavior to be challenged or overcome, but rather, it is normalized within the narrative.
Sasuke neither respects nor meaningfully cares for Sakura for the majority of the series. This is made explicit when he states he doesn’t love her, and she has no reason to love him and calls her "love" for him an idealized fantasy. Within the logic of the story, Sasuke is correct. Sakura’s love for him is not built through emotional intimacy, or mutual recognition. Instead, it is rooted in nostalgia and the desire to reclaim an idealized version of the past. The narrative never convincingly shows how Sakura’s feelings develop from shallow fangirling in early Naruto into romantic love. Sasuke never reciprocates her affection, never validates her emotionally, and never treats her as an equal. As a result, Sakura’s devotion lacks narrative justification.
This absence becomes even more apparent when contrasted with Sasuke’s relationship with Naruto. Unlike SasuSaku, Naruto and Sasuke’s bond is deeply explored, narratively central, and thematically reinforced. Their connection is grounded in shared loneliness, mirrored experiences, and ideological opposition. Over time, Naruto’s perception of Sasuke evolves, he stops referring to him as a “brother” and begins calling him a “friend,”. Their relationship is further elevated through symbolism in which they are reincarnations of Indra and Asura and embodiments of moon and sun. Their bond is put directly into the mythological and ideological meaning of the series.
Sakura, by contrast, is excluded from this symbolic structure entirely. She is not given parallel mythology, ideological relevance, or thematic weight. Her emotional bond to Sasuke is not given the same depth as Naruto and Sasuke’s is, example given by comparing their farewells. Sasuke is shown to be hovering over Naruto‘s unconscious body in the rain after their fight. Not only is this scene heavily emotionally loaded, but it represents their respect for one another. Naruto and Sasuke show through their rivalry and fight scenes that they see each other as equals. Sakura and Sasuke however, haven‘t gotten a single fight in the whole series, because Sasuke simply does not see her as an equal. In their goodbye scene, Sakura is shown to be emotionally vulnerable, crying and asking Sasuke to stay, Sasuke does not return the vulnerability or show any emotion. The scene, unlike the one between Naruto and Sasuke, does not hold any emotional weight, does not contribute to the plot, neither to Sasuke‘s development and decisions or to their relationship. He formally thanks her, knocks her out and leaves her unconscious body on a bench for the night.
During one of the most significant and emotionally charged fights and arcs in Naruto, where Sasuke supposedly dies, Sakura is shown in 2/12 pages/panels, Naruto in 11/12. Sasuke‘s indifference to Sakura is greatly demonstrated; in one of the panes in which she is shown, her face is halfway cut out. In the top left panel, after their training with Kakashi in which Naruto lost, Sakura, sitting on the other side of the tree trunk, is cut out from the picture. There are 8 pages in which Sasuke is shown alone with Naruto, 1 pages in which Sasuke is alone with Sakura. 2 panels of solely Naruto, 0 panels of solely Sakura in his last memories. Sasuke‘s last memories showcase Naruto’s importance in his life, as well as Sasuke‘s admiration for him, while Sakura is presented as only an additional part of their team, holding no significance.
Sakura’s motivation to bring Sasuke back is fundamentally different from Naruto’s. Naruto’s pursuit of Sasuke is tied to his own identity and ambition, he sees himself reflected in Sasuke and understands that their roles could have been reversed. Saving Sasuke is inseparable from Naruto’s path toward becoming Hokage. Sakura’s motivation, however, remains static and emotionally regressive. She wants Sasuke back not because she understands him, but because she longs for a past version of him that no longer exists. Her attachment is about restoration, not comprehension.
This lack of understanding is repeatedly emphasized within the narrative itself. One of the clearest examples occurs when Sakura attempts to stop Sasuke by claiming she wants to join him, an approach that fundamentally misunderstands Sasuke’s character, goals, and psychological state. The attempt fails precisely because it is built on projection rather than insight. Sasuke further proves the point, reiterating that he does not love her and that her feelings are unjustified. Yet instead of framing this moment as a critique of Sakura’s misplaced devotion or as an opportunity for growth, the story allows her loyalty to persist unquestioned.
The broader implication is not merely that SasuSaku is underdeveloped, but that women are not permitted to be part of the story’s core emotional dynamics. The primary relationships in Naruto are all male centered and narratively prioritized. Romantic relationships involving women, such as SasuSaku and NaruHina, are relegated to side plots that are largely irrelevant to the central narrative. They receive minimal development, little ideological weight, and no meaningful impact on the story’s outcome. This structural sidelining frames women as disposable rather than essential and present but never equal. Sakura’s exclusion from the central emotional and symbolic framework reflects a broader misogynistic pattern in which female characters are denied narrative significance even when they are constantly present. They are allowed to endure, to wait, and to love, but not to define, challenge, or shape the story in the way male characters do.
