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Aside from the fact that Armin had voluntarily taken the day off for the first time since before he had joined the Scouts, nothing had managed to make the day significant as the young commander made his way to the infirmary in the early evening.
Over the years and through many injuries, even the occasional late-night cup of tea, Armin and the head doctor of the Scouting Regimen had become close enough that Armin felt comfortable calling the doctor a friend. Walking into the infirmary and asking the doctor for a favor certainly wasn’t anything to make the day special, even if the specifics of said request were a bit strange.
“A cart and a body bag? Arlert, are you sure you don’t want me to bring those to the forest sooner? I don’t have to wait until dawn to leave if it’s urgent” The doctor asked Armin, though he already seemed to accept the lack of details in this strange request.
“I’m sure,” the commander responded with a gentle smile “So long as you manage to make it there, preferably without an audience, it can wait until dawn.”
The two went their separate ways and the day remained insignificant and far from noteworthy.
Commander Armin Arlert often went on solo horseback rides in the evenings, enjoying a sunset ride and returning to near-empty stables with the quiet companionship of the animals around him to aid him in returning his horse to its home. Showing up at the stables wasn’t anything special, or even interesting.
Armin was in full uniform, it had been designed with riding a horse in mind. Why wouldn’t he wear his uniform? He was armed, a pistol strapped to his leg underneath his cloak, but it would be more concerning if he wasn’t. If being the Commander of the Scouts wasn’t enough, his current political involvement following the end of the war and the Rumbling, his friendship with Queen Historia, his history with Eren Yeager, his past actions during the war, the orders he’s given before and during his time as commander, and so much more could easily justify an unexpected attack. He was armed for self-defense any time he left the safety of his home, his office, or the Scout headquarters.
To end this rather dull day, Armin rode off towards a line of familiar, indescribably tall trees. The ride itself took long enough that the darkest hour of the night had just begun to fade as Armin slowed to a stop at the entrance of the forest.
He slid off his long trusted horse, guiding it along the outside line of trees as he flipped through memories in his mind as though he were looking through a picture book.
Just as his lungs began to get heavy and stuffed with emotions, he released his horse and sent it back home to its stable, watching it ride off as he sat in a comfortable, lusciously green patch of grass.
Armin pulled his gun out of the holster on the side of his leg, feeling the weight of it resting in his palm. Twisting his hand around with it, he felt the different ways gravity allowed him to feel the power he held at the mere tip of his fingers. The realization never stopped being a bit exhilarating.
He meticulously pulled it apart, laying it out carefully and inspecting each individual piece before building it back into perfect working order. Checking the magazine, counting and inspecting each bullet inside before loading it back up. A routine inspection that Armin had learned to seek comfort in as a gun became such a constant in his life, especially while so much around him changed.
The sky had almost fully lightened as Armin felt the thick, cool circle of metal be pressed against his temple. He didn’t move for a moment, expecting to feel something. Guilt, panic, maybe some regret or a sudden change of mind. The longer he sat there, though, the more sure he was of his decision.
It felt like he was at the edge of a cliff, that he had been walking and climbing for as far back as he could remember. His reward was just there, just in front of him, he just had to take another step and get it. He had to let himself follow through with everything he had done to get himself to this point, he had to take that step and find the relief of escaping gravity.
To say that he didn’t realize what he was doing, that moving his pointer finger onto the trigger wasn’t a conscious action, would be a lie. He put that finger there. He felt the cool, thin line that meant the difference between using the power in his hands to get that relief or going back. It would be a lie to say that Armin cried, that he felt bad, that he regretted what he was doing, and that he didn’t fully and completely want this.
Armin gently and slowly pulled the trigger back, easy movements keep the weapon steady. He felt his head fly to the side, he must have been hit with something. It nearly knocked him off balance, even sitting on the floor. The intense pressure, the pinch of nerves that have been hurt but have yet to process it.
The bullet flew through the other side of his head and he fell back. Distantly, he felt his arm falling to hit the ground, warmth leaking from the sides of his head, As his eyes closed, all Armin could feel was relief from finally stepping off the cliff he had been faced with and the warmth of the slowly rising sun on his face.