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The sway of the horses shook the carriage, causing the passengers inside to bump shoulders. The only sound was the clatter of hooves against the cobblestone streets. They had faced tense situations before, but this time, Armin couldn’t muster the courage to lift his gaze. He felt Jean’s eyes boring into his forehead like daggers. He knew what the others were thinking. He and Mikasa had insisted on talking to Eren. They had trusted him, even as their comrades yelled at them not to. And now, here they were, bound and in custody.

A sad smile crossed Armin’s face, bruised and smeared with dried blood. Then Jean’s voice exploded with rage.

“What the hell are you smiling about? You’re starting to look just like that psychopath! Was this all part of your plan? Pretending to get captured so you can fool us?”

“Jean!” Mikasa snapped.

“Jean, this isn’t the time to turn on each other. We’re all we have left,” Hange said, leaning her head against the carriage wall, her voice weary.

Jean, seated across from Mikasa, tried to rein in his anger as he locked eyes with her.

“Mikasa, how long are you going to keep defending him? Killing Sasha wasn’t enough for him—now he wants to bury us all. You too. Can’t you see that?”

Mikasa turned her face away, clutching her red scarf tightly in her hands. “Eren wouldn’t…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, her voice threatening to break, so she fell silent. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to say.

Armin kept his gaze fixed on the floor, wringing his hands. A single tear dropped to the carriage floor.

“This is all my fault,” Hange said, drawing a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not being the commander you all needed. This wouldn’t have happened under Erwin.”

The Jaegerist soldier riding with them struck the floor of the carriage with his rifle.

“Silence.”

When night fell, the carriage came to a stop. Armin woke up dazed, his ears ringing and his cheek throbbing in pain. He looked at the soldier.

“We’ll be spending the night here. They’ll bring you something to eat. Behave yourselves.”

Jean clicked his tongue. “How generous. Can we at least see Connie and Niccolo, or is that too much for Mr. Jaeger to allow?”

The soldier didn’t answer. He leaned out of the carriage window to take some bread and a jug of water from a comrade. After issuing another warning, he exited the carriage to eat with his fellow soldiers.

“Unbelievable,” Jean muttered, biting into the stale bread.

The others weren’t in the mood to talk. They began eating in silence, until a whistle came from outside, and a shadow opened the door. Someone placed a steaming pot inside, along with bowls and spoons.

The person climbed into the carriage, revealing themselves to be a recruit from the Survey Corps—or rather, someone who had once been a recruit of the old Corps.

“Armin Arlert?”

Armin nodded, recognizing himself in the name. The recruit handed him a box of medicine and bandages. As Armin held it, his hands trembled, and his eyes filled with tears. But suddenly, he felt ashamed of his reaction. He let out a bitter laugh, tossing the box out the window. He also shoved the bowl of soup they’d served him.

“Did he send you? Can’t he face us himself after everything he’s done today? Like I’d need any of this!”

Steam began to rise from Armin’s face, slowly erasing most traces of his injuries. The recruit left immediately, visibly uneasy.

Jean let out a sharp laugh through his nose, but Mikasa gently placed a hand on Armin’s shoulder. Before she could say anything, the recruit’s voice came from outside the carriage.

“Armin Arlert, Mr. Jaeger wishes to see you.”

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All eyes in the carriage fixed on the recruit. Then, one by one, they turned to Armin, who was frozen in place.

Jean was about to say something, but Mikasa silenced him with a sharp glare, and he closed his mouth again.

“Armin...” Mikasa muttered, her face pale.

“I doubt he wants to see me. It must be a trick. Just like the medicine. I’m going to check it out.”

Without looking at his companions, Armin got off the carriage and followed the recruit.

Only then did he notice they were outside the walls, standing in a vast meadow dotted with a few trees. Armin shivered as memories of risking his life in this landscape flooded back. He took a deep breath and continued walking behind the young man, who was leading him away from the carriages. Looking around, Armin noticed the tents where the Jaeger faction should have been staying were in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?”

The recruit stopped, and from among the trees emerged someone Armin was all too familiar with.

Floch.

Floch’s brow was furrowed, and in his hand, he held a rifle. In a swift motion, he loaded the chamber with a distinctive click and aimed it at Armin. His fingers hovered over the trigger.

But Armin said nothing, his eyes locked on Floch’s without a trace of fear. Faced with a defiant gaze instead of the panic he had expected, Floch laughed.

“So confident that Mr. Jaeger wouldn’t order your execution?”

“I don’t doubt he wants me dead, but would he really do it now? And if he did, what good would it do me to tremble and beg for mercy? Those things haven’t worked with Eren for a long time.”

Floch looked him up and down.

“To think he fought Captain Levi to save your life. I still can’t understand it, and I don’t think I ever will, but I no longer dare question it.” Floch seemed lost in thought for a moment before shaking his head and speaking again in a hostile tone. “I have orders to watch you eat. Otherwise, I’m free to fill you with holes like a sieve.”

Another recruit approached with a plate of soup and crusty bread. Armin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Give me medicine and watch me eat? What’s going through his head? He really wants to humiliate me.”

He took the bowl from the recruit’s hands and thanked him with a smile. He watched the young man walk away and brought the steaming liquid to his mouth to blow on it. However, instead of drinking, he let the bowl fall to the ground, where it shattered into hundreds of pieces. A few drops splashed onto his boots.

His heart raced in his chest as he heard a gunshot—and immediately felt the pain of his flesh being pierced. Floch, his face impassive, reloaded the rifle, which now emitted a trail of white smoke. Armin didn’t need to look down to know his thigh had been struck; he could feel warm liquid running down his calf. Clenching his jaw, he focused his energy on regenerating the wound.

But Floch didn’t wait and fired again. This time, the bullet hit Armin’s left arm. Tears filled his eyes as he struggled to hold back a scream. He wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction.

“Eren! Is this really what you want? What did we do to you? What did I do to you?” Armin shouted into the air.

“Mr. Jaeger is the only hope for us Eldians. Those who don’t understand that and try to interfere are unnecessary. Wouldn’t I be a better Colossal Titan to accompany him?” Floch smirked maliciously.

“What hope are you talking about? Accompany him for what? Thinking only of killing is not a solution—it’s continuing the vicious cycle! Wake up already!”

Floch reloaded the rifle, his eyes fixed on Armin, whose clothes were now soaked in blood.

“You want us to hold hands and sing a song? There’s no other way out of these damned walls!” His index finger was already pressing the trigger when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Eren lowered Floch’s rifle with his other hand, his lifeless eyes focusing on Armin.

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“Leave,” Eren commanded, his voice icy.

Floch’s heart began to race, pounding as if trying to unravel the suffocating knot tightening in his chest at those words.

“Let it go, Eren. You wanted me full of holes anyway,” Armin said, raising both arms defiantly. “Or would you rather do it yourself?”

“Haven’t I already told you? I’ll always win when we fight—especially if you don’t even bother to take care of your own body.”

“Mr. Jaeger, I can—” Floch started to protest, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eren's sharp gaze flicked to Floch, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Would I have had to come here myself if you hadn’t gone overboard?"

Floch gritted his teeth and shot Armin a resentful look before leaving. The recruit standing next to Armin also walked off toward the tents.

And then it was just Armin and Eren.

“Aren't you afraid I'll transform into a Titan?” Armin clenched his fists, still stained with remnants of dried blood.

“You're smarter than me, Armin. We both know you wouldn't do that, unless you wanted to hurt all these people.”

“If I were like you, I could.”

“Probably.” Eren stared at his palm. “Go back to the carriage; I don’t think you need an escort. And eat properly.”

Eren's eyes lingered on Armin for a moment before he sighed and turned to leave.

Armin averted his gaze, struggling to control the hammering in his chest. A heavy pressure in his stomach made him feel like throwing up. He couldn't stop himself from recalling all the times Eren had rescued him—sacrificing himself to save him from a Titan’s jaws, being punished by Captain Levi for trying to save him. Even though he wasn't worth it.

And now, as he tried to save Eren, it felt like Eren had let go of his hand, leaving him to watch as he walked down a blood-paved road with no return.

Armin's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, thick tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I don’t understand, Eren. We dreamed of exploring the world together. How did it come to this...”

“Things changed, Armin.” Eren's voice was hoarse.

“Maybe it means nothing to you, but I always wanted to see the sea with you. I always wanted to watch you seeing the sea. Nothing else mattered as much.” Armin’s voice rose, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if afraid he'd forget them. “You said I was a slave to Bertholdt’s feelings for Annie... But if I've ever been a slave to anything, it’s the feelings I have for you.”

Eren froze in his tracks and swallowed hard.

He cursed. He cursed silently. At the skies. At his father. At the Titans. At Marley. At Paradis and Eldia. At Zeke. At Marley again. And most of all, at himself.

Prodding the wound deeper, Armin seemed to plead, “Eren... everything can be fixed except death. I really hope that freedom you're chasing is worth being alone and broken to enjoy—or dying for.”

Eren’s lips curled weakly into a faint smile.

No, Armin. I won’t be able to enjoy it.

He knew that since the moment he touched Historia’s hands and the memories flooded his mind—past and future. He knew exactly how everything ended. And if he could prevent Armin and Mikasa from meeting the same fate, that would be enough.

Maybe, if things were different, he could be more selfish and keep Armin by his side.

Maybe, in another life, they could watch each other discover the sea.

But Eren didn’t have the strength to say those things aloud and still walk away. He had to stay strong.

So all he could do was whisper with clenched fists, “Armin, the best way I can love you is by making you hate me. Only then can I protect you.”

He didn’t know if Armin heard him, nor was he sure if he wanted him to.

As Eren walked away, a silvery glimmer appeared in his eyes.

You’re lucky, Armin. Lucky to be able to say out loud what you think and fee

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Hurried footsteps echoed behind him. Eren kept walking, prepared to take the blow.

But all he felt were warm arms wrapping around his waist.

“You don’t have to save us all, Eren. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself.” Armin held him tighter. “All we want is for you to stay safe and stay with us.”

Eren felt every hair on his body stand on end as he sensed Armin’s sobs against his back. His throat tightened, choking any words he might have said.

He hadn’t seen this coming.

He searched through the vast ocean of his memories—his own and those of others, past and future. He relived the pain and the loneliness in his flesh. But these words, this embrace, were absent.

They existed only in his imagination.

He had imagined someone telling him that he didn’t have to do this. He had imagined someone telling him he didn’t have to carry this burden alone—that it wasn’t solely his to bear. Not condemning him as a sadist, a murderer, or a fanatic. What he had truly longed for was someone to say, You don’t have to do this alone. You can want something with all your heart, but that doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice yourself for it. Apparently, that was possible.

Eren closed his eyes, and a single, timid tear slipped free, trailing down his cheek. In that moment, he felt the person clinging to his back absorb the crushing weight that had kept him walking hunched over, burdened by shame and despair. How could such simple words carve out an entirely new path within his heart?

Clearing his throat with the last shred of composure, he murmured, “But the war...”

“We can face it together—with the Legion and with us. Those so-called Jaegerists just want to turn you into cannon fodder, can’t you see that? One person can’t carry the weight of an entire civilization!”

Armin’s fingers gripped Eren’s jacket until his knuckles turned white. Then, Armin felt a hand close over his own. The touch was cold at first, but warmth soon spread from Eren’s hand to the center of his chest, like the first bloom of spring.

Peeking around Eren’s side to confirm he wasn’t imagining things, Armin saw Eren rubbing his hands gently, his thumb brushing over them. Armin lifted his gaze to meet Eren’s, his expression unreadable, like the bitter southern winds.

But after a few moments of staring, Armin noticed a spark flicker in Eren’s eyes, long dimmed. That flicker sent a jolt of electricity down Armin’s spine, and warmth rushed to his cheeks.

Before he could look away, Eren turned to face him and cupped Armin’s face in his hands. Armin felt the roughness of Eren’s palm against his flushed skin.

“I didn’t know Titans could get fevers.” Eren smirked—a gesture Armin hadn’t seen in years. His pulse raced wildly in his chest.

“N-N-No, I don’t have a fever,” Armin stammered, swallowing hard. His voice wavered, amplifying his embarrassment.

Eren leaned in so close that Armin could feel his breath tickling his nose.

“Oh? You don’t?” Eren rested his forehead against Armin’s, closing his eyes. “You’re right, it’s just your cheeks that are warm. It can’t be shame—not when you were shouting your feelings at me a moment ago.”

Eren’s voice vibrated against Armin’s skin, making even his ears burn red. Armin wanted to pull away, to sink into the earth and hide, but Eren’s hands held his face firmly.

“Eren, I...”

The words were cut short.

Armin’s eyes widened as he saw Eren’s face closer than ever before, his green eyes closed. For a moment, Armin felt as though he had floated out of his body, merely a spectator to the scene.

He remembered sitting on the canal’s edge in Shiganshina with his book, dreaming of a world beyond the towering walls that confined them. A boy with jade-green eyes, filled with unwavering determination, had approached him. That boy, the one who always defended him, had been the only one who believed him when he spoke of the sea. The only one who promised they would see it together—that they would escape the walls. That life could be more than fear.

Because of him, Armin had glimpsed the endless horizon of the ocean for the first time. Because of him, he was alive. And most of all, because of him, he had learned what it meant to feel alive.

Snapping back to reality, Armin felt his eyes brimming with tears as his lips were enveloped by a warmth so overwhelming it took his breath away. He smiled against Eren’s mouth, returning the kiss he had waited so long for. He savored every inch of those lips, letting Eren steal his breath until none remained.

“Armin...” Eren’s raspy voice broke through gasps, desperate and raw. “Armin, Armin.”

Suddenly, Eren’s vision turned black. And cold.

He opened his eyes with a jolt and found himself staring at the dimly lit ceiling of a tent.

Sitting up too quickly, he felt a wave of dizziness. Sweat dripped from his brow, strands of hair sticking to his damp skin. Trembling, he touched his lips with his index finger, hoping to feel the lingering tingles of the dream.

But they weren’t there.

Reality crashed down on him like an avalanche.

“Mr. Jaeger, it’s nearly dawn. Are you ready to depart?”

The voice outside wasn’t Armin’s. It belonged to a recruit.

Because after he had walked away the night before, Armin hadn’t run after him. He hadn’t embraced him or told him he didn’t need to sacrifice himself.

Eren’s stomach churned. Hugging his knees, he began to rock back and forth, the emptiness in his chest growing larger, threatening to consume him whole.

All he could do was clench his fist and slam it against the ground until the pain numbed his hand. He looked upward and let out a furious, guttural scream.

The recruit outside shivered, his hands trembling, but he didn’t dare move. He remained standing at the entrance of the tent until silver streaks began to paint the sky.

At that moment, Eren stepped out, his eyes hollow and dull, like the bottom of an empty wine bottle.

“Let’s go. There’s no time left for dreaming. We need to find Zeke,” Eren ordered, shoving his hands into his pockets and heading toward the carriages.

Not far away, Armin woke with the final tear he would ever shed for the boy who had once warmed his heart—a heart now as sharp as a blade, though never as cold as Eren's.

THE END