Hajime Isayama is kind of a weirdo. I mean that with the utmost respect, but there’s really no other way to describe the guy who spent over a decade obsessed with giant, skinless humanoids eating people. When Attack on Titan first exploded onto the scene, nobody—honestly, not even Isayama himself—expected it to become the global juggernaut it is today. He was a newcomer. His art was, let's be real, pretty rough in those early chapters. Yet, the Attack on Titan mangaka managed to craft a narrative so tight and soul-crushing that it redefined what a shonen series could actually be.
It wasn’t just about the Gore. It was the feeling of being trapped.
Isayama grew up in Oyama, Oita Prefecture. It’s a town surrounded by mountains. He’s mentioned in various interviews, like those in Brutus magazine, that those mountains felt like walls. He wanted to get out. He wanted to know what was beyond them. That feeling of claustrophobia didn't just inspire the setting of Paradis Island; it became the emotional backbone of the entire series. It's that raw, personal anxiety that translates so well to a global audience. We all feel trapped by something, right? Whether it’s our jobs, our social expectations, or just the literal walls of a small town.
The Rough Beginnings of the Attack on Titan Mangaka
Most people don't realize how close we came to never seeing Eren Yeager's story. When Isayama took his original one-shot to Weekly Shonen Jump, the editors basically told him to change his style to fit their brand. They wanted something more "Jump-like." More polished. More traditional.
He said no.
He took it to Kodansha’s Bessatsu Shonen Magazine instead. They saw the potential in his "ugly" art. There’s a certain grit to his early work that feels human. It’s messy. It’s visceral. If the art had been too clean, the horror of a Titan biting a human in half wouldn't have felt so deeply wrong. Isayama has often admitted he had an inferiority complex about his drawing skills. He leaned into the storytelling because he felt he had to overcompensate for the visuals.
It worked.
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The story moves with a frantic, desperate energy. You can see his improvement over the 34 volumes, but even at his most "polished," Isayama never lost that jagged edge. He’s a fan of Muv-Luv Alternative, a visual novel about humanity fighting against overwhelming alien odds. You can see that influence everywhere. The hopelessness isn't a plot point; it's the environment.
Subverting Expectations and Losing Sleep
Writing a weekly or monthly manga is a nightmare. For the Attack on Titan mangaka, this meant years of minimal sleep and intense pressure. He’s spoken about the "hell" of deadlines. But the real pressure came from the fans.
By the time the "Marley Arc" hit, the story had shifted from a simple "humans vs. monsters" tale into a complex political drama about generational trauma and the cycle of hatred. This wasn't what people signed up for in 2009. But Isayama didn't care. He forced the audience to empathize with the "villains." He made us realize that Reiner and Bertholdt weren't just monsters; they were child soldiers.
That’s a gutsy move for a creator.
He didn't want to give us a happy ending. He wanted to give us an ending that hurt. He’s gone on record saying he wanted to "attack" the reader. He succeeded. The backlash to the final chapter was massive, leading him to add extra pages to the final volume to further flesh out the bittersweet (mostly bitter) reality of the world he created. It showed he was listening, but also that he wasn't going to compromise on his vision of a world where conflict is an inevitable part of the human condition.
The Impact of Game of Thrones and Breaking Bad
Isayama is a huge fan of Western media. You can see the influence of Game of Thrones in the way he handles character deaths—nobody is safe, and plot armor is basically non-existent. He’s even admitted that the character design for Falco Grice was influenced by Jesse Pinkman from Breaking Bad.
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- He watches how stories handle consequences.
- He looks for realistic human reactions to extreme trauma.
- He avoids the "power of friendship" tropes that plague other manga.
This cross-cultural influence is why the series landed so hard in the West. It didn't feel like a typical anime. It felt like a prestige HBO drama that just happened to be drawn by a guy in Japan.
Life After the Titans
So, what does the Attack on Titan mangaka do now that the walls have fallen?
He opened a sauna. Seriously.
Isayama has been very vocal about his love for "sauna culture." After a decade of drawing death and destruction, the man just wanted to relax and sweat. But he hasn't completely stepped away from the industry. He’s still involved in various projects, including the "Attack on Titan Fly" artbook and short stories like Bad Boy, which gives more backstory to Levi Ackerman.
There's also his legacy in Oyama. The town has embraced him, putting up statues of Eren, Mikasa, and Armin at the Oyama Dam. It’s a surreal sight. A small, quiet town now serves as a pilgrimage site for millions of fans because one kid felt trapped by the mountains and decided to draw his way out.
The Controversy of the Ending
We have to talk about the ending. It divided the fanbase like nothing else. Some felt Eren’s character arc was betrayed; others felt it was the only logical conclusion for a boy driven by a singular, destructive desire for freedom.
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Isayama himself expressed anxiety about the finale. In an interview at Anime NYC in 2022, he almost looked moved to tears by the support of the fans, despite his own doubts about how he ended the story. He’s human. He’s an artist who lived with these characters for a third of his life.
The nuance he brought to the final chapters—the idea that even after the "big bad" is gone, humanity will still find reasons to fight—is what makes the series timeless. It’s cynical, sure. But it’s also honest.
What We Can Learn from Isayama's Career
If you’re a creator, Isayama’s path is a masterclass in persistence. He didn't have the best art. He didn't have the backing of the biggest magazine. He just had a story that he needed to tell.
- Trust your instincts. If he had listened to the Shonen Jump editors, Attack on Titan would have been a generic battle manga that likely would have been canceled in six months.
- Embrace your limitations. He turned his technical weaknesses into a unique, terrifying style.
- Don't play it safe. Killing off popular characters and shifting the entire perspective of the story mid-way was a risk that paid off because it respected the intelligence of the reader.
The Attack on Titan mangaka changed the industry by proving that a dark, philosophical, and deeply depressing story could be a global blockbuster. He didn't follow the rules. He broke them, then he built a wall around the pieces.
Taking Action: Exploring Isayama's Legacy
If you want to truly understand Isayama beyond the anime episodes, you need to look at his process. Start by reading his early one-shot, Heart Break One. It’s rough, but you can see the seeds of his kinetic action style.
Next, check out the Attack on Titan "Ending" interviews published in Bessatsu Shonen Magazine. They provide a lot of context for why certain choices were made in the final chapters—choices that many fans still argue about today.
Finally, if you’re ever in Japan, visit Oyama. Seeing those mountains for yourself puts the entire series into a new perspective. You realize that the Titans weren't just monsters; they were a metaphor for the barriers we all face.
Isayama might be done with the main story, but the questions he raised about freedom, violence, and the human heart aren't going anywhere. He forced us to look at the "monsters" and see ourselves. That’s the mark of a true master.