Chapter Text
Birds fly high up in the morning sky, the only creatures to have been free forever. It is early morning in the arid, red blot of earth, the sky is only beginning to blush a pale pink but all the inhabitants have been long awake. The ones who aren’t wounded stretch and squat. On this morning, even the unappetizing aroma of bland breakfast stew makes stomachs rumble. If all goes well, this will be their last day in Fort Salta.
Armin feels his stomach flip in anxiety. But what if it doesn't, what if they don’t, what if all fails -
“Commander Arlert!” A voice booms from behind and Armin winces. He still doesn’t like the title, the gruesome manner of earning it will forever chew away at his mind. But he turns. He is Commander now. He has to be. For his friends. For a chance at peace.
Muller stands there, his white military cap tucked under his arm. “Everything is almost ready. I’m going up to the control base for the announcement.”
Armin nods tersely, he wants to say something in response but his throat is blocked with violent, thumping heartbeats. He watches Muller stride away before making his way toward the end of the railway tracks they had painstakingly fixed over the last three weeks.
They have been here for three weeks. Three weeks since the battle ended. Three weeks since the planet was almost crushed fully to death. And now they would finally be able to leave.
Only if it all works out, only if it doesn't fail-
"Armin!" Connie waves him over from the far end where he stands with all the others. Reaching them, Armin’s heart lightens a little, only to plummet to his stomach immediately afterwards. These are his friends. The only ones left alive with him on the Fort right this instant. What if his plan doesn't work and they starve to death because of dwindling rations, what if-
His eyes find Annie’s cool blue eyes and the storm within him calms down.
It will be alright. It will work.
The derailed engine stands a few feet away, looking sad but ready for a new lease of life with engineers and technicians swarming around it to make sure it runs in a few minutes. Armin nods his head at one of them who nods back in acknowledgement. Nerves flutter inside his stomach.
“Worrying again huh,” Jean remarks, leaning against a pile of corroded steel beams. “Relax, Armin. The people need to pull only if the wheels don’t run smoothly.”
“I don’t think it will though,” Reiner points out, staring at the tracks they had hammered down smoothly for days. “It’s still too uneven right here,” He crouches down and runs his fingers over the steel tracks that are quickly heating from the rising temperatures daytime brought on the Fort.
“You didn’t build a whole railway system like we did four years ago though,” Connie looks bored, sitting on a crate. “We have experience, Reiner.”
“Did your experience also teach you how to fix them from projectile rocks?” Pieck questions.
“Always so smart-” Connie begins a retort but the screeching static of the loudspeaker on the top of the mesa has everyone squeezing their eyes shut and gritting their teeth.
“Good morning to everyone on Fort Salta,” Muller’s voice echoes, and Armin, along with everyone else, crane their necks up and squint to spot a white uniform standing in the control station. “This is Secretary Muller.”
People stagger out of their tents and from spots they have made their own over several days. Children run out to the open to catch a glimpse of the source of the echoing voice. A few become many and soon everyone on the Fort is out, watching, listening, waiting for instructions.
“As you are all aware, we have been working hard to fix our railway for the last three weeks,” Muller's voice is authoritative. “The engine was derailed by falling debris from the Rumbling. A portion of the tracks was also disfigured. So we built a connecting track from the derailed engine’s wheels to the portion of the tracks that remains intact.”
Even as Muller explains their efforts, Armin eyes the newly laid track with a queasy feeling. They had used the old rails stored away in the maintenance rooms - thought to never be required anymore, worn and cracked as they were - but it had been sheer luck that they were still there at all and not discarded entirely. For three weeks, what remained of the people at Fort Salta - a varied bunch of Marleyan military engineers, the Eldians from Liberio, and of course, Armin and the boys and girls had hammered them down from all sides, to return some semblance of functionality that would help the engine's heavy wheels glide over until they reached the intact tracks.
Muller continues. “Kald has offered us asylum, but getting there is our responsibility. The train is our only way out of this Fort. Our rations are dwindling and the wounded need proper care. In a few minutes, our engineers will start the engine to try and see if the wheels will run on the connecting track. They may not, if they are too uneven. In which case,” Muller clears his throat. “Every man, woman, and child present here, unwounded and capable of helping, must pull the engine until it reaches the original tracks.”
Armin swallows nervously, his blue eyes following the long, thick ropes - or to be exact, many smaller ropes tied into longer ones - snaking from the front, bottom, and sides of the engine to several hundred metres beyond where they stand. He thinks back to the previous evening when they had huddled in Muller’s cabin with Muller himself and five of his engineers to discuss the plan.
“Kald will not be able to send ships,” Muller taps his finger on the most recent letter they had received. “It is a small country. They have only a few large boats and after the Rumbling, there is a severe fuel scarcity. Reaching us by sea will take three days and that much fuel.”
“Not only can they not afford it, but we will not have enough food to last us six days of travel,” Armin mutters, his eyes skimming over and over the words on the letter. “We have to get out of here on our own.”
“And so, the question remains - how?” Muller asks. The apprehension in the cabin is heavy. “We were lucky we still had the old railway tracks to lay down but they are no longer functional. If the train does not run on them, it is as good as dust.”
Armin chews his lips. He has an idea, this idea has been brewing for days but it is risky, it is painful-
“What if we pull?”
Momentary silence before one engineer scoffs. “All of us in this cabin would not able to pull that engine, it weighs a hundred tonnes-”
“I mean everyone on the Fort. Everyone who can pull, even the children.”
There is dead silence. Armin can almost picture the thoughts floating in everyone’s minds - but surely the wounded cannot help? Some of the women and men are too frail? What difference would children make?
“I think it would work,” Pieck finally breaks the silence and Armin looks at her gratefully. She offers him an encouraging smile. “Realistically speaking, there is no limit to the force a human being can exert. There are roughly two hundred people on this Fort. That means on average, half a tonne per person. Some of us here,” She gestures at Reiner, Jean, and Annie. “Can easily compensate for some of the weaker population.”
“Yes,” Armin sighs in relief, eternally grateful for Pieck’s input. “Besides, we’re not lifting. We’re pulling. The problem is a matter of gliding over tracks that are already there. Five meters of length, six sets of wheels past the fractures and corrosion, and the engine’s pull will do the rest of the work.”
Muller and his engineers regard them - well, him, mostly - for a minute before slowly nodding.
“I think it’s worth a try.”
“But,” Armin says, swallowing a lump of nerves. “We have only one shot at this and it has to be done right the first time. We cannot risk any further injuries, on ourselves or anybody else here.”
Muller waits, his silver-grey eyes focused on Armin. “What’s your solution to that?”
“Motivation. A sense of solidarity.” He responds, willing the anxiety in him to die down. Did it sound too weak, too silly? “A task has a higher success rate, the more motivation and fire there is behind accomplishing it. If the people are spurred on enough, with the right words and ideas, the more likely it is that we’ll get this done on the first try.”
He thinks of Commander Erwin’s speech on the night they chose to join the Scouts.
“So, Secretary Muller, I ask that you inspire the people, if- no, should the engine fail to run and we have to resort to pulling.” Muller can’t see his hands twisting under the table. He isn’t used to giving commands. Orders. Making requests to people who have been higher in the military ranks for longer than him. “Make it clear that we have to get out of this Fort only through the train, use their children to light a spark of motivation. That if they want their children to have a peaceful future, this is our only chance.”
Muller looks at him for a long, hard moment and Armin thinks he has messed up badly.
“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Muller asks, finally. “If you have such a good idea of what to say, I think you are more suited for it than me?”
Armin hesitates. He has a reason for requesting Muller to do it. But how can he possibly say it without-
Someone kicks him under the table. Annie. Sitting directly across from him with her arms folded, her eyes tell him - Say it. There’s no room for hesitation here. Say it.
So he does.
“Secretary Muller," He begins. "The only reason there's some peace on this Fort is because you ordered your men to lower their guns. It's thanks to you that we have been able to work together to fix the engine and the tracks. But it's been three weeks and they still don’t trust us enough. I-," He sighs. "Devils from Paradis. Honorary Marleyans. Eldian demons. There's no room for such categories anymore. We're all just humans on this Fort and that's all we've been since the Rumbling. I want to stand alongside and pull with them. I'd rather earn their trust now than give them orders. It will take a long time, but I think this is the first step for a future of peace."
He catches Jean's eye, who gives him an imperceptible nod and a smile. And then Annie, whose lips curl ever so slightly.
You did well, her eyes say.
Back in the present with arms folded, he watches with bated breath as the technicians give the nod to start the engine. Some of them disappear inside - he can almost see them through the heavy iron walls of the train, that’s how much time he has spent inside it the past week and this morning. One of the engineers - Felipe, who had spent much time with Armin and the others, waves at him and gives him the signal that the engine will start soon. Armin nods, a flutter of nerves setting off in sparks inside him.
“Well, it either runs, or it doesn’t,” Connie mutters, standing up and dusting his hands.
All eyes are on the engine as it rumbles to life with a deafening groan. Thick plumes of steam curl from the vents, engulfing everything nearby in a dense fog and blinding everyone for a few minutes. Armin’s eyes burn and he hears Reiner coughing. They wait for the smoke to thin out, to rise into the crisp morning sky, and finally, the engine comes back into view.
“Running!” Felipe sticks his head out from the engine room and raises his thumb. The heavy wheels begin to turn slowly and the engine rolls forward an inch-
And then it screeches to a stop.
Armin’s heart sinks as Reiner coughs behind him. “Well, I expected as much.”
Static squeals from the mic and Muller’s voice fills the air once again. “Well, it seems the time has come for us to use what strength we have.”
The nervous refugees exchange murmurs and words of doubt even as Jean, Reiner, Connie, Armin, Pieck, and Annie cut through the crowd in a single line, lifting the heavy ropes and offering them to the people around them. A few regard them suspiciously, eyes scrutinizing Armin’s hair, his clothes, and his eyes. I’m not a devil, he wants to tell them, but he bites his tongue. People are more convinced by actions. And that’s what he hopes to convince them of when he takes his position behind some men he doesn’t know.
The dispersed crowd begins to concentrate along the long snaking lines of rope. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Karina Braun and Mr.Leonhardt behind her, his limp more apparent than before. Pieck’s father. Felipe, somewhere to the side. Annie, somewhere in front of him. Several children idling in front of their parents, not sure of what’s going on. Several children, alone, without any parents at all. Armin flinches but grits his teeth. Every ounce of strength will help.
Muller booms over the speakers again. “You must pull as your life depends on it!” Murmurs of apprehension and doubt cease. “If we have to leave this Fort, you must make sure the engine moves. It will hurt, and the skin of your fingers will be burned raw, but consider this physical pain as repentance to the hate we cultivated. We are only alive today because the Rumbling was stopped! Your children are alive only because the Rumbling was stopped! So stand, along with those who killed the Attack Titan, and pull with all the strength you have! To enter a new world without titans, as witnesses to the final moments of The Rumbling, survivors of a global catastrophe, to spread the stories far and beyond of how your children, your sons, and daughters - stopped the footsteps of doom, as witnesses of the Rumbling who are still alive - you must pull! ”
Silence.
And then, roars.
Armin closes his eyes and breathes a sigh of relief. Word for word, as he had penned down last night. Words to build motivation but also to foster a sense of alliance among them, to build trust and comradeship. It is the most important thing to have among the refugees for the success of this mission and for everything that would come afterwards. The Scouts had mostly kept to themselves after rebuilding efforts each day, not wanting to incite or provoke anyone. But that has to change.
And now is the time.
“Use the strength in your legs,” Muller directs and everyone follows. “Lean back. Dig in your heels. And, pull!”
And they pull. Strangled cries. Gnashing teeth. Shouts of pain. Burning muscles. Bones both weak and strong being tested for their endurance. Joints being pulled out of their sockets. Women give their everything. Little children contribute what little strength they have. Armin feels every fibre of his being ripping apart. From somewhere far ahead, Jean yelps. But nothing seems to give. The engine, still running, stays put.
“Pull, pull, pull!" Someone cries from the front. "Dig in your heels, pull pull pull! ”
Sweat breaks out over every inch of Armin's skin and his joints scream. The heat from the rising sun to the west does not help their cause. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders if Annie’s alright.
And finally, the engine’s wheels begin to turn.
“It’s moving, it’s moving! Pull, pull, pull!”
The wheels emit ear-splitting screeches, being forced to roll unpleasantly over cracks, bends, and fractures that mar the surface of the old tracks. Shouting and screaming drown out the squeal of the wheels and for once, Armin is thankful for the noise.
“One meter to go, pull pull pull!”
“All your strength!”
“Pull, pull, pull!”
And after what feels like an eternity of blinding pressure on his muscles, the ropes fall to the earth. Several people fall on their backs, watching the engine gliding smoothly on intact and pristine railway tracks, running all the way to the other end of the Fort before halting to a stop, gleaming under the light of the Sun.
Nobody speaks.
Static. “Ladies and gentlemen. The train is back on its tracks,” Muller’s voice is no longer commanding. “With that, let me take this opportunity to announce the dissolution of the Marleyan Military.”
Armin’s neck snaps so fast toward the airbase control station, he feels it break. What is Muller-
“As of this moment, the military ceases to exist,” Muller, who is a small white dot high up on the mesa, removes his hat. “As of this moment, I become an ordinary civilian, and so do my men from Marley. Now, we are all the same. And thus, we begin a new life.”
The Fort erupts in cheers. Shouts of laughter and hugging. Hats and scarves and shoes are thrown into the air. Children scream, overjoyed simply at the collective whoops, whistles and hollering.
Reiner comes running toward him, Jean and Connie close at his heels, sweating profusely, and Armin falls to the ground on his buttocks. Head in his hands, he watches the Fort come alive with hope for the first time in weeks. With hands trembling from the exertion and harsh pants leaving his lungs, his eyes take in the celebrations around him, the Sun rising slowly over the train far off in the distance.
“Armin, it worked!”
“Are you alright?”
“Oh no, he looks pale-”
“Maybe he’s in shock?”
“Hey,” A pair of boots halt directly in front of him and knees drop down to the ground. Annie, her hair drenched in sweat, face flushed, palms red and raw from the ropes. Her ice-blue eyes find his own. “Are you hurt?”
He dumbly shakes his head no. She studies him for a few minutes and then stretches her arm; fingers much smaller than his own swipe against his cheek. All he can do is simply stare at her.
“Grease,” She offers in a monotone, holding up her fingers before his eyes - they are streaked black. “From the ropes, maybe.”
Somewhere, vaguely, he recognizes the heat on his cheeks is partially from her quiet display of affection. But Armin is too shocked to respond.
Because tomorrow, they will finally leave the Fort.
Breakfast is an energetic affair. Emotions run high and the makeshift dining hall feels like it will crumble to the ground from the avalanche of excited shouting and laughing within. Nobody can get enough of tasteless soup. Water jugs collapse to the ground from rowdy behaviour. Children wolf down lumpy potatoes and mothers giggle in happiness. Some men have taken to singing loudly, laughing and clapping throughout.
It is a sight he never expected to see.
“That’s the power of hope for you,” Pieck chuckles, shoving a spoon of stew into her mouth. “One small light at the end of the tunnel can also be the brightest light.”
The six of them are sitting together, eating their breakfast ravenously with Reiner on his second bowl of stew. They don’t have to worry about portions anymore, not when it is their last day here.
“Are you guys alright?” Armin asks, looking around worriedly. “Any sprains or strains or-”
“Oh stop fussing, we’ll live,” Connie smirks. “Worry about yourself. You might want to check for any more grease stains on your face.” Jean begins to choke on his stew.
“Annie will wipe them all for you,” Reiner grins with his mouth full at Annie who's next to Armin. “Won’t you Annie?”
“You’ve been awfully caring over the past few weeks,” Jean teases her. “You’re becoming soft!”
“Guys, stop…” Armin says weakly, his face on fire. He knows his embarrassment is showing but all self-consciousness flies out the window the minute he gets a glimpse of her face.
She’s resolutely staring into her bowl of stew with a glare so vicious the liquid almost evaporates in fear. And then she takes it in her hands and downs it in a series of giant gulps, the wide rim of the bowl hiding her face completely.
Pieck peers into her hidden face and laughs. “She’s shy!”
The boys begin to chortle again much to Armin’s distress, but then she puts down her bowl with a thump and despite a faint pink on her cheeks, trains a new glare onto Connie and Jean, both of whom remain unfazed.
“You don’t scare us anymore, Annie,” Connie snickers. “Not when you've fallen for a softie like Armin.”
“I wonder what made you like him though,” Jean hums, his eyes on Armin, who is this close to combusting. “What was it that caught your eye?”
“... I’m glad I met you, Jean, Connie.”
It throws everyone off guard.
Armin stares at Annie but she’s got her eyes cast down into the empty dregs in her bowl. She chews on her bottom lip for a second before she lifts her cool gaze to meet Jean and Connie’s stunned faces.
“I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. But… thank you. For saving my life back on the port, Connie. For everything, Jean. I’m truly… glad I met you both.”
A quietness descends over them. Reiner sets his spoon down without a sound, his face darkening in guilt. Pieck continues to eat silently. Jean coughs and clears his throat.
“No, Annie… thank you, for coming back.” He says, slowly. “If you hadn’t, we would have all been long dead.”
“And you saved my life back in Trost,” Connie adds quietly. “I always wanted to repay you for that. But now you saved my- no, our lives again. I owe you a new one.”
“We’re glad we met you too.” Jean's smile is sad.
Annie squirms in discomfort, her normally unperturbed blue eyes looking bothered and finding comfort somewhere far off in the distance.
Reiner sniffles.
“Okay, now, don’t start crying!” Connie exclaims, irritated. “I swear Reiner, you cry at the smallest damned thing!”
“He’s a big baby. Always has been,” Pieck chimes mildly and the table breaks into a ripple of laughter again. But Armin’s gaze is transfixed on Annie’s face, where the tiniest of smiles graces her lips. When she notices him staring, he gives her a warm smile and knocks his knee with hers. That couldn’t have been easy for Annie to say. He knows. He knows the effort that went into speaking those words aloud. But even though she looks away, her smile grows a little larger, and his heart soars.
But something nags at him. Annie’s been too quiet recently; unusually stoic and reserved, even with him. The week had been so busy he hadn’t spent any time alone with her. Someone always needed him to do something, say something, brainstorm something, and the restoration work on the railway alone had taken nearly all of his energy. He caught glimpses of her here and there on the fort - coming out of tents where the injured stayed, spending time with her father, helping with the hammering of the tracks - and all of those times, he had been too busy, or she had been too busy and they were never alone. At night around the fire, it seemed to him that everyone was hell-bent on stealing away his time alone with her - nobody went to bed early - and by the time they finally did, it was too late, he was too tired and Annie left too. All he had done for the last seven days was kiss her fingers; it was his quick way of saying he loved her and goodnight.
But god, does he want to kiss her properly again.
However, something is bothering Annie and he needs to find out what’s wrong. So he nudges her with his knee and she glances at him, raising her eyebrows. What? He raises his own in reply. Are you alright?
“Stop flirting right in front of us,” Jean groans and Armin jumps. “I’ll be glad when you two get a room of your own in Kald and I don’t have to see you making eyes at each other all the time!”
Armin sends his stew straight down his windpipe and curls into himself coughing violently. Pieck thumps his back, laughing.
“I wonder if the first thing we have to do in Kald is attend a wedding?” She leans in close to tease him. “It certainly wouldn’t be surprising.”
“P-pieck,” Armin splutters, struggling for air, eyes streaming with tears. “P-please!”
“Alright, alright, we’ll stop,” She chuckles.
“I wonder what Kald is really like,” Reiner wonders aloud. “Not much that we got out of those letters.”
“There goes the Kaldian,” Jean sits up, looking over his shoulders. “Let’s ask him. Hey, Felipe!” He bellows across the hall. “Here! Come sit with us!”
Felipe - a lanky bespectacled young man in his early twenties - turns his head, a bowl of stew steaming in his hands, and beams. He immediately makes a beeline to their table.
“Commander Arlert,” He says, a little too enthusiastically. “After breakfast, we’ll be filling the train with all the required supplies. Would you kindly supervise?”
Armin winces and straightens his back, the last fits of coughing leaving his lungs. “You want me to?”
“Please. It will be a long journey and we don’t want to miss anything important.” Jean pats the seat next to him and Felipe sits down, looking expectantly at Armin who squirms uncomfortably. With his friends he is just Armin, one of them. It bothers him, being treated as someone more important when he feels he’s done much less than anyone else at the table. He wonders if this weight of carrying a title will ever lighten.
“Alright,” He sighs. “Before I have to visit the wounded then.”
“Right!” Felipe smiles wide. “I’ll tell the other men.”
“Anyway, Felipe,” Reiner swings an arm over Felipe’s shoulder. “You’re from Kald, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Felipe says, spooning stew into his mouth. “I went to Marley at sixteen to study flying.”
“So what is Kald like?” Jean asks, curiously. “All we know is that it’s a small country.”
“Let’s see now,” Felipe begins, dropping his spoon. “Kald is small, yes, and it’s also very quiet. And it’s very, very beautiful. I grew up by the mountains and every morning, the clouds would hang low over this lake nearby. It was a sight. Beyond the mountains, there were rolling hills of lavender, they smelled so sweet all the time.” He laughs, a lost look in his eyes. “During the winter, sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can see the lights in the sky. Northern lights. I saw them once when I was a small child.”
Armin looks at him, awed, and notices everyone else looking just the same. Kald sounds too good to be true. It feels unnatural hearing that such a beautiful place is still intact when most of the world has been crushed to dust.
But, he has to ask. “Where… did they stand on Paradis?” His voice is quiet. Felipe nods slowly, understanding the weight behind the question.
“Kald has always been neutral. They never held any animosity towards Paradis,” Armin breathes in relief. “But being such a small country, they had no power to assert their viewpoint. Kald’s only trade is dairy. Milk, cheese, butter. They rely heavily on other nations for many other goods. Too small to influence anyone else. But the people are very friendly. Jovial, accepting and understanding. We are taught in Kald to understand before judging, or atleast,” He laughs sheepishly. “It’s what I remember my grandparents always telling me.” Armin smiles. Of all of Muller’s men, Felipe had been the last to raise his gun after the battle, and the first to talk to them. If this is the way of the people of Kald, then we are extremely lucky to be going there, he thinks.
“There’s also something else,” Felipe continues thoughtfully. “Kald is a dying country with an ageing population. There really is nothing much to do there, except the dairy business so… people leave. Like I left for Marley…” He goes silent before his face contorts in pain.
“Felipe?” Pieck calls. “Are you alright?”
“I’m alright,” He covers his face with his hands. “I just th-thought if the Rumbling had continued a little f-further, then- my home- my country would not… I’m sorry.” His head sinks lower, the heels of his palm digging into his eyes.
Everyone is quiet. Armin watches Felipe, lips pursed and fingers clenched over his knees.
“It’s- it’s because you stopped it th-that I… my parents are still al-alive and…” Felipe begins to choke with emotion.
“It’s alright. Stop crying,” Jean mutters, patting Felipe on the back. “We didn’t call you here for this.”
“I’m so-sorry,” Felipe mumbles. “B-but thank you.”
There is a crushing pressure inside Armin’s lungs - no oxygen, only carbon dioxide. Thank you. Of course. But at what cost? So many people had died. Some distance from the Fort to the East, there was nothing - absolutely nothing. A wasteland of smoke and debris. Human lives, animal lives had ceased to exist in a matter of minutes. Landscapes his eyes would never feast on. Nature he would never enjoy. Cultures he would never learn about.
“Felipe, it’s alright,” He says softly, reaching across the table to pat Felipe’s shoulder gently. “We’re also glad we have somewhere beautiful that we can look forward to going.” Felipe looks up and Armin gives him a sorrowful smile. “You must show us around, in Kald.”
A tear-streaked face breaks into a feeble smile. “O-of course, I will.”
“And treat us to delicious food.” Connie chuckles.
“Yes,” Felipe manages a laugh, wiping his eyes. “I think you would like Fondue, it’s quite delicious. It’s the national food.”
“Fondue? Sounds funny,” Jean jokes good-naturedly.
“Alright, now that we know that,” Reiner clears his throat loudly. “What do you say we all do tonight? Want to climb up the mesa for another bath?” He looks around the table eagerly.
“Sure, that sounds nice-” Armin begins with a hopeful glance at Annie - maybe they can escape from the others for a bit - but is distracted by a loud crash by the doorway of the dining hall.
Two young boys, not older than sixteen, barge in with huge crates in their hands. Faces red and panting, they drop the boxes to the ground and lift something out. Long, dark, dusty. The hall falls silent.
Bottles.
“Rum! We found military rum! From the control station! There’s lots more up there!”
The dining hall explodes in loud cheering, Jean and Reiner included, and Armin can’t help but laugh. So that’s what they’re doing tonight.
As the sun ascends in a blazing heat over their heads, Armin finds himself leaving the cluster of tents that house the wounded. They had been more receptive to his questions and concerns today than ever in the past three weeks, with enthusiasm coating every response he received from them. A part of him doesn't believe that things have changed this much from just a show of solidarity in pulling the train, but another part of him is also delirious with the prospects he sees from this change.
Peace. Harmony. Understanding.
A better world.
His boots kick up dry red dust as he walks in no direction in particular, wondering what he should be doing next. There is nothing much left to be done - he had gone over the list of supplies they needed to load into the train, the engine is being washed and cleaned, the rations are being prepared to be cooked in full, the route map for their journey has been checked and confirmed; Felipe knew a mountain pass they could cross beyond the sea to the North which would cut the journey time shorter by five hours; the tents will be folded up early in the morning and left behind.
There really is nothing much to do.
The mood on the Fort has changed drastically. No longer do people huddle solemnly inside their tents, no longer do they scrutinise his every move. Some even throw him smiles and waves. He sees kids shrieking in laughter from the bath barrels high up on the mesa to his left. It is hot, extremely hot , but people are milling around, laughing, singing, some are even packing up the meagre scraps of things they have collected over the last few weeks. He observes two children in front of a tent with a smile - they are engaged in a fierce tussle as a worried mother tries to break them apart.
Armin feels light, almost dizzy with excitement. Things are looking up. Tomorrow by this time, they will be on a train running fast, heading to a new world, for a new start, with his friends, with Annie -
A loud wail draws his idling attention to a blurry group of little children standing around...
Jean? And is that Connie and Reiner?
He squints and curiosity carries his legs closer toward them. Sure enough, it is them with four little boys who seem to be arguing in loud, high-pitched voices.
"What's happening here?" Armin asks the three of them, nodding at the boys squatting on the ground. Jean grumbles, hands on his hips.
"They want to race down that hill like the other kids are doing," Connie jerks his chin at the rolling slopes several feet ahead of where they all stand. "But this little guy has an injured ankle, and his friends don't want to leave him behind. They were kicking up such a fuss."
Armin looks at the boy in the middle - blond-haired and brown-eyed, sitting on the bare ground, eyes barely holding back tears. The other three boys look equally sad, heads hung low, hands twisting the hems of their shirts. In the distance, he spots children racing each other furiously down a gently sloping hill that peaks high above even the mesa with the control station and the baths.
He kneels to reach out and wipes a leaking tear from the injured boy's eyes. "Are you alright?" Armin glances at the white bandage around the boy's right ankle. "Have you gotten someone to look at your ankle?"
The kid nods dully, lips quivering. "I twisted it yesterday. She said it'll be alright, but I can't run with it."
"And these three won't enjoy themselves without him," Reiner sighs, closing his eyes. "They remind me of Falco and Gabi when they were younger... And sweeter."
"He's our friend! We won't leave him alone!" One of the boys wails fiercely, watery eyes angry.
"If he can't run, we won't run either!" Another declares, voice squeaky with tears.
Armin flinches, there’s a strong pain deep inside his heart. He remembers a smaller boy in a blue shirt, nose bleeding and tears streaming from his eyes. Two figures fiercely shielding him from bullies who wanted to beat him up more. One in a skirt, one in trousers; steel gray eyes, a flash of green eyes-
He rubs his eyes. No. Not now.
"Want us to race you four down?" He finally says. "You can ride on our shoulders."
The change is immediate and dramatic. Watery eyes disappear, sullen faces perk up, and smiles spread like wildfire across four small faces.
"Will you, will you?! Please! Yes please! " And Armin laughs at the mad scramble the four little boys make to choose their respective carriers. The injured boy seems to choose Armin, tugging on his shirt sleeve shyly with bright, hopeful eyes.
"How about it?" Armin twists his neck up to look at Connie, Jean, and Reiner. "Lunch isn't for another two hours and there's nothing to do anyway. There's four of us too."
"Well, I don't mind, but," Jean scratches his neck, concern lacing his voice. "I don't think their parents will be happy seeing them with us... They probably won't mind you , Reiner, but we three are-"
"Our parents aren't here!" The boy hugging Reiner's leg says. "They didn't get on the train to Fort Salta, they said they would come later!"
A terrible silence falls over the four men - dark, blinding, suffocating.
"Maybe they went straight to Kald! Right, Mister?"
Their parents would never come.
Connie coughs.
"Well, up you go then," Jean clears his throat and lifts one boy high into the air, setting him on his shoulders. Reiner follows, Connie does the same and finally, Armin rises, lifting the injured boy onto his own shoulders.
"We'll make the other kids jealous, won't we?" Connie chuckles, as they walk toward the hill. "We'll be the fastest anyone's ever seen!"
The boy on Reiner's shoulders tugs on fistfuls of Reiner's hair. "Yay! You better! That'll show them! Those boys made fun of us for sticking with our friend!" He points viciously at a bunch of children playing on the hill and the other three yell in agreement. Armin laughs, holding on tight to the little legs dangling on either side of his neck.
As the children babble away loudly to each other over their heads, Jean mutters quietly "They're so light."
"Yeah," Armin agrees. "There’s probably nobody supervising them. We should find out how many such kids are there and get someone to look after them."
"I hope Kald is kind to them," Reiner smiles ruefully.
"They remind me of my brothers," Connie murmurs to himself but Armin manages to hear. He reaches out to give Connie a light squeeze on the shoulder.
They reach the foot of the slope and begin the uphill climb to the summit. Envious stares from other running children follow them. Armin feels the injured boy's fingers twisting in his hair and turns his head to catch a glimpse of his eyes, smiling.
"Having fun?"
"Yeah!" The boy laughs, pearly whites on full display. "I'm so tall!"
"Is that so," Armin chuckles. "I think your friend is taller," He twists to point at Reiner and the boy he's carrying, who smiles proudly.
"Yeah, I'm taller!"
"No, I'm taller!" The kid on Jean’s back yells.
"No, you bastard!"
Armin gasps, his eyes wide with shock. "Who taught you that? You shouldn't be saying such things-"
"My father! He says it all the time." Small legs kick up and down against his chest and Armin doesn’t know what to say. A knife twists inside his lungs. This boy no longer has a father.
"You still shouldn't-"
"By the way, Mister," The blond boy leans down, his hands playing with Armin's shirt collars. "What's your name?"
Armin frowns. "I'll tell you if you promise not to use that word anymore."
"Okay!" The boy grins and Armin sighs; without a doubt, this boy was not going to keep any promise.
"It's Armin."
The boy on Connie’s back suddenly exclaims. "Hey, he looks exactly like him!" His small fingers point at Armin. “Doesn’t he?”
"What's this about?" Connie asks, puzzled. "Who looks like who?"
"The lady who fixed his leg," The boy on Jean's shoulder points at the blond boy. "She talked of a man with yellow hair and blue eyes just like him! " He then points at Armin.
There's a stunned silence and Armin is momentarily confused.
Then Reiner begins to laugh.
"Was it Annie?" Armin asks slowly, trying to get a glimpse of the boy's face.
"I don't know her name," the boy begins, shyly, tugging on Armin’s ears. "But she had light yellow hair and blue eyes too-"
"And a really scary face!" Another kid adds and Jean snorts.
"That's Annie alright."
A warmth begins to spread over Armin's face and he bites his lips to hold back a smile. "Her name is Annie. Did you say thank you?" He tugs on the boy's uninjured leg gently.
"...No?"
"Why not? You should say thank you when someone does something nice for you." He now properly twists his head and looks at the boy's face. "Will you tell her when you see her again?"
"Okay," the boy nods very seriously and Armin looks ahead, satisfied.
"But what did she say about Armin? I’m really curious," Reiner pokes Armin's arm with a sly grin on his face. Armin groans in dismay.
"She said I looked like him," the boy replies, more than pleased to share. "That I reminded her of him-"
"Oh yeah, he does," Jean muses, his eyes flickering between Armin and the blond boy. "He looks like a younger version of you, Armin."
All the boys begin to chatter away loudly, all at once.
"Then we asked her if he's a nice man-"
"-and she said yes-"
"-so then we asked her if he's amazing -"
"-and she said he's amazing -"
Jean and Connie begin to chortle and Armin's cheeks heat up rapidly. Amazing? Him? Is that what Annie thinks?
"-then we asked her if she liked him-"
“-the way my mother likes my father and she gives him a big kiss every day-”
"-she gave us a really scary look-"
"-told us we were being too nosy -"
Reiner roars in laughter and suddenly Armin wants to sprint up the rest of the hill and listen to this in private, alone, by himself. Why on earth are his friends being showered with chances upon chances to tease either him or Annie? And why do they have to be listening to this?!
"-she didn't say anything else for a long time-"
"-then she said yes -"
"Good for you, ey?" Reiner laughs even harder and gives Armin a great big slap on the back that almost sends him rolling down the hill.
"’-then she made this really strange face-"
"-Yeah-"
"-her cheeks all went all hollow like this -"
"-and her mouth went to the side, like this -"
"-and she was really, really red-"
"-then she called us brats and left us!"
Armin's stomach flips in somersaults and his heartbeat quickens. That look. That face . He knows it. He had seen it last week, in his tent, when they'd kissed for the first time and afterwards, when she had been so embarrassed she couldn't even look at him properly. She had let him see her like that, vulnerable, nervous, sensitive - with lips red and bitten. He had felt like the luckiest man in the world.
“And what are you thinking about huh?” Reiner digs his elbow into Armin’s ribs. “Indecent thoughts?”
Armin turns scarlet. “Reiner!”
“Well, you know, he’s not like how he looks,” Jean snickers. “Don’t underestimate the quiet ones.”
“What does that mean?” Connie demands, looking gleeful.
“You guys! It’s not like that!” Armin complains, face redder than a tomato.
"Fight, fight, fight!" The boys over their shoulders chant, arms flailing wildly in the air.
Reiner, once again guffawing and red in the face from laughing, comes down from his high, wiping away the tears in his eyes. “Honestly though, A-Armin,” He’s breathless from the lack of air. “In all the years I’ve known Annie, she’s never once been flustered, or faltered in anything she did, or said. But you , you’ve flustered her. Badly.” He grins. “I wonder how you did it.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Armin grumbles in irritation, his neck pointing stiffly ahead of them to the summit.
“Not that you know of, probably,” Jean smirks. “For now,” He adds and the three of them howl in laughter again, watching Armin’s beet-red face splutter for a response.
"Hey, we're almost at the top!" One of the boys cries and sure enough, the summit is only a few feet away.
At this height, the wind is stronger and colder. When his feet cross the remaining climb, he stands still with the blond boy on his shoulders, and takes in the view in front of him. There's a hushed silence as they all gaze at the expansive landscape below. The red-coloured Fort with its many peaks and plains, camouflage tents dotting the surface, and small atoms of people moving about. Far off into the distance beyond the jagged edges of the cliffs guarding the Fort, the sea draws a clean line to the horizon, the vast waters sparkling in the noon sunlight. Birds flock in elegant formations high up in the blue sky. An enormous cumulonimbus cloud towers over the horizon in the far south. Other clouds swirl delicate designs like a pen dipped in ink and drawn over paper. A strong breeze blasts at them from behind and he feels it blow through his hair and clothes, cooling his scalp and skin. The wind carries to him broken bursts of laughter from far below, a reminder of all the lives he is now responsible for. A reminder of the change he was able to bring simply by believing in his convictions. Somewhere down there, Annie is doing something, thinking of him.
He tugs on the boy's ankles. "It's beautiful isn't it?"
"Yeah," The boy responds, breathless.
Armin smiles, his eyes lost in the scenery. He feels the stares of several other children nearby on him, on them - curious, envious, jealous of the four adult men carrying the four small boys on their shoulders.
He feels like a proud father.
A fleeting thought - had his father ever carried him on his shoulders?
Nobody speaks for a long time, taking in the view in sombre silence. The breeze blows steady and strong and four pairs of hands grip tightly the little legs draped around their necks. The breeze whips at them without relent, leaving them looking windblown and nipping at their exposed skin. The hair on the back of Armin’s neck rises with the realisation - he’s alive.
"I feel… emotional," Reiner sniffles quietly.
"You’re always emotional," Jean mumbles, his eyes watery. “But I feel the same.”
Connie wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "Stop it, all of you. We didn't come here to cry."
Armin feels his own eyes moisten and his vision blurs faster than he expects. Blinking rapidly, he takes a deep breath and clears his throat.
"Change comes with these children," he tells them. "The first step to ending the cycle of hate." He looks at the others. "What do you think?"
They consider his words for a few minutes in silence. Then Jean smiles. "You're right. They are blank canvases. If we can teach them the right things…"
"There's no better place to start," Connie says. "I agree." Reiner merely nods, his eyes still damp.
Armin turns to look at the blond boy on his shoulders. “You didn’t forget your promise to me did you?”
“About… saying thank you?” The boy asks.
“Yes. You will tell her when you see her next, won’t you?” Young brown eyes meet older blue ones.
“Yeah,”
“And you’ll give her the biggest smile you can, yes?”
Now the boy hesitates. “But-but she looks really scary.”
“She’s not scary.” Armin ignores Jean’s low whistle.
“But- what if she doesn’t like it?”
“She will. Even if she doesn’t show it. It’ll make her really happy. Will you do it?”
“...Okay.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
"Hey Mister. Are you done crying?" The boy on Reiner's back sounds miserable. "Why aren't you racing?"
Reiner laughs, his voice thick with emotion. "You're right, we should begin."
"Right," He claps his hands. "First one to reach the bottom gets the worst potatoes at lunch!"
"What?!" Connie snaps. "Shouldn't it be the opposite?"
"No, because you know, horses run the fastest-"
"Want me to push you off this hill, Reiner?"
"Go horsey, go!" The boy on Jean's shoulders yanks his hair up into two long clumps and kicks his legs. "Go horsey go!"
"You brat-!"
Armin closes his eyes and laughs freely. He feels dizzy. He feels light. The breeze must have entered his body. There are so many new feelings and emotions running through him he doesn’t know where to start.
"On my count of three!" Jean cries.
"One!"
The boys squeal in delight, their tiny hands curling into tight fists on their shoulders.
"Two!"
"Hold on tight boys!" Connie yells.
Armin looks up at the injured boy and beams.
"You ready?"
"Yes!"
"Three!!"
And he sprints down the hill, as fast as his legs will take him. For once in his life, he has a head start, the others lagging some distance behind. They will soon catch up to him, however, but he won't mind. They are his only family now. The wind blows his hair back and wraps around his tired bones. Eyes squeezed shut, their collective shouts of laughter are carried away by the breeze, high into the blue sky, where perhaps, they will echo for years to come.
The sun bleeds gold into the sea, turning the water molten orange. Armin drags a crate to the edge of the cliff and sits down with a wince; somewhere between the strenuous pulling of the train in the morning and the uncontrolled running down the hill at noon, he's convinced he's sprained something or the other in his back. Three weeks ago, no injury would have bothered him for long, but not anymore. He is just human now. A pile of flesh, bones, and muscles that functioned with a brain and a heart that beat to keep it all alive.
A cool breeze kisses his skin and he relishes the sensation. The day has been unusually windy, not that he’s complaining of course. That cumulonimbus cloud means stormy weather. He glances at it - menacingly tall and imposing, stretching several kilometres up into the troposphere. A deep sadness finds his heart. One evening many years ago, when he had nothing to do, he chanced upon a bored and sad Hange, and she, more than happy with the curious company, had taught him all about the weather.
He misses her.
She had been kinder to him than most others of her rank. Perhaps it had been because she recognized his need to constantly learn, perhaps it had been empathy instead. But she had been kind. He had written so many reports for her and she praised his work each time. They had studied things together and brainstormed ideas; she had comforted him during the times he felt inadequate and he had done the same for her.
And now she was gone, and there wasn't anything left to even remember her by, except his memories of her.
He misses her.
Pulling out his gear, he sets it on his lap. A scrap of cloth soon follows and he begins to clean.
It will be the last time he will clean them - for a long time to come, he thinks.
The wires and grappling hooks had taken him very long to get used to. Everything that required physical talent had taken him very long. The cloth slides neatly between the wires and the reel case, wiping off the dust and grime they had collected during the final battle. He had only begun to get good with the blades when Hange and her team devised the thunder spears - and then he had struggled with that. He can no longer count the number of hours he spent practising with Jean, bombing trees and shrubbery.
He picks up his blades next. His fingers slide along the edges. Sharp. Extremely sharp. If he isn't careful, he'll cut himself but steam will not rise to heal the wound. The cloth dips into the grooves where they secure to the trigger units. It's strange. He had never used his blades much for what they had been meant for. His thunder spears, even less. But now this blade, he remembers. It has a small crack at the bottom. Blades came in pairs, but there is only one of this pair. He had given the other to someone who, in the end, had refused to leave him behind.
He misses her too.
Footsteps interrupt his thoughts and he turns. Jean and Connie, with their own gears and two crates, to keep him company. The former drops down to his left and latter to his right.
"Performing maintenance all alone? You could've called us." Jean states. Armin passes him a scrap of cloth.
"Yeah, I just…" Armin trails off. "Was thinking. About many things."
"You and me both," Connie sighs heavily, opening his reel case and pulling out the wires. "Those kids reminded me of back when I was a kid, before the military, before the titans… before everything."
They work in silence; the only sounds are those of equipment squeaking clean, blades clattering to the ground, the swish of cloth between the wires, and the hiss of some final remnants of gas from the gas tanks. Only half the sun remains above water now, bathing the three of them in the soft glow of an emotional sunset.
"Do you remember the day we went to the market?" Connie says quietly. "When we were still trainees. There was a fair that day-"
"Yeah we bought so much bread," Jean recalls, chuckling. "Bags and bags."
"And a horse tried to snatch one of your bags-"
"Are you poking fun at me again? Is that why you started this, Connie?"
"Well no," Connie grins. "But there were so many girl horses swarming around you that day-"
"Mares, Connie," Armin laughs.
"No, girl horses. Girls," Connie emphasises, looking smug. "I was so surprised! It was the funniest joke in the barracks for a month!"
"Alright, how long are you going to keep this up?" Jean demands in a complaining tone. "This horse joke is so old now."
"Well, you still look like one so I'd say it's still funny. Don't you agree, Armin?"
Armin shrugs nonchalantly but his eyebrows are raised and he's struggling to hold back a grin.
"Armin, not you too!" Jean cries, looking dismayed. "Now you've all ganged up on me!"
Armin and Connie burst into laughter and soon Jean joins, despite his grumbling. Laughter gives way to snorts and grunts and soon they're laughing for no reason in particular but simply at each other, together , by the light of the setting sun.
When they quiet down, the air has turned sombre. There is barely any light now, the sun has sunk into the sea entirely, the last of the orange-tinted clouds quickly fading into the darkness of night. Soon, fires will be lit all along the Fort, in front of tents, and in front of general gathering places that people have made their own.
"I wonder if my mother is alright," Connie whispers into the quietness.
"Mine too," Jean's eyes reflect the dark waters far below them. "She's probably worried sick."
Armin sets his gear down by his feet and clasps his hands together, elbows on his knees. "I'm sure they're alright. Historia will look after them."
"But," Connie's worry is apparent in his trembling voice. "Historia could be-"
"She's stronger than you think," Armin reassures him softly. "And she certainly won't have allied with the Jaegerists. Trust in her."
"Do you?" Jean asks. "Do you trust her?"
Armin stares at the few meters of earth in front of him and nods slowly. "I do."
That seems to put their minds at ease and Armin is relieved to see their tense shoulders relax. But he did have faith in Historia.
"Maybe… maybe she's eating something nice," Connie sighs. "She would've been so hungry after waking up from the titan form."
"Maybe she's with my mother," Jean manages a short laugh. "Maybe they're cooking something delicious together."
"That's… unlikely, but nice to think about."
"Yeah."
Silence ensues once again and the sounds of fires crackling to life start to invade their ears from a distance.
"I wonder what she's doing." Jean murmurs.
"Who?" Connie asks.
"Mikasa."
Armin swallows.
There's a tree in the distance. It's windy there too. Leaves both green and yellow flutter gently to the ground. The blades of grass are soft and damp under his fingers. Silky black hair and a red scarf trail behind her, short legs pumping fast over the grassy hill. He struggles to keep up. She pauses to look back and offers him her hand. He takes it. She pulls him along, running slower to match his pace - all to follow the one who is far ahead of them, shouting in glee and laughing, his green eyes shining with-
But Armin isn't the only one struggling with Mikasa's absence. So he inhales sharply to still his thoughts. He will have ample time to ruminate. Now’s not the time.
"Are you alright, Jean?" He asks. Jean's head is hung low but he looks up, puzzled.
"About what?"
"Mikasa."
Jean is caught off guard. "What are you on about?"
"Well, it's not only me who misses her, is it?" Armin smiles sadly.
Jean blinks, frowning soon after, looking away. "You really don't miss anything do you?"
"Oh come on," Connie says. "It's been an open secret for years."
Jean slumps forward, inhaling and exhaling steadily many times. Then he speaks, his voice low and sad.
"I don't really know what to say. I miss her, but not in that kind of way." He plays with his fingers, eyes downcast. "I… loved her for a long time. Each time Eren charged ahead leaving her behind, I hoped that Mikasa would find a place for me in her heart. It was stupid and I uh…" He runs a hand through his hair. "I was stupid to hang on to that hope. Because that evening, when we were on the new train… I saw it."
Armin knows what's coming.
"I saw the way Eren looked at her. When he said we were all important to him. His eyes… he was only looking at her."
Nobody says anything.
"And in Marley, that night we got drunk… before, I mean, when I saw them standing together on top of that hill, it became clear to me. I knew I would never have her heart."
All Armin can do is watch Jean pour his unspoken emotions out for the first time.
"I've since accepted it," Jean's voice shakes. "It's been a long time since then. Years, isn't it?"
"Four." Connie offers quietly.
"Four," Jean barks a short laugh. "Yes, it's been a long time."
He raises his head to the sky and takes deep breaths in an effort to bring his emotions under control. Armin twists his hands, still clasped on his knees. Jean's pain had become obvious to him a long time ago but listening to him admit to it openly, it hurt like a fresh wound.
"So… Fondue, huh," Connie mutters on his right.
"Do you think Sasha will like it?" Jean mumbles, forefinger and thumb pressing into his eyes.
"Yeah, she will," Armin’s smile is woeful. "I think she’ll love it."
"I wonder how it tastes."
"Felipe said it's made of cheese."
"Like cheese, then."
"Well, Sasha liked everything," Connie blinks furiously, the rims of his eyes growing red. "Meat, most of all, but she liked everything."
"We'll eat a lot of it," Armin tells Connie. "For ourselves and Sasha."
"We will," Jean nods in agreement, eyes moist.
"For Marco too, Jean," Armin continues. "When I… when I spent time with him, he told me his favourite food was baked potatoes with cheese."
Jean looks at Armin, eyes rapidly filling with tears. "He told me that too."
"We'll eat for everyone," Armin whispers. "And I mean everyone ."
Jean's head comes to rest heavily on Armin's left shoulder. "Yeah."
The glow from several fires behind them casts their shadows long and thin before their feet. The sea is invisible now and the moon silently graces the inky sky, high above their heads.
"Is it… all really over?" Connie asks Armin, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"It is."
"No more titans?"
"No more titans."
Connie's head falls on Armin's right shoulder.
"We are just humans now?"
"We are just humans now."
"So it really is over."
"Yes."
The two boys begin to cry into his shoulders, their tears rolling down his shirt and they soon soak through the fabric. Armin throws an arm over Connie’s trembling back and leans his head on Jean’s. The sobs are quiet but the tears are warm, full of regrets, grief, and also relief. The three of them share a home they will not be able to go back to in the immediate future. Two have mothers to go back home to.
And he has a sister waiting for him.
His eyes gaze upon the soft, pale white moon. He can see the strings now. The strings of time. They stretch long and thin, wispy strands he can tell are firm and unyielding. They twine around his fingers like the red strings of fate Mikasa had told him about so long ago. They spin invisible spirals, wrapping around them - flimsy-looking threads of inflexible time dancing toward, then away, all the way to the horizon, to the moon, to the clouds, and deep into the depths of the sea. Yes, they have time on their hands now. A very long time.
And the time falls like moonlight.