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1
The room chatter had quieted down to a soft, peaceful silence—only interrupted by the occasional snore. Through the hazy cracked panes of the window alongside his bunk, Armin could see the first clusters of snow descending from the moody black sky.
He pulled his thin sheet tighter around him, plumes of frosty air escaping his pale lips. The crumbling wooden walls creaked with the howling wind, his bunk trembling on its posts. Cool air chilled his exposed skin, causing a shiver to wreck his slender figure.
Laying his head on his sunken pillow, he watched the clusters of snow pile on his windowsill. The whistle of the outside wind interblended with the steady sound of the cadets’ quiet snuffling.
Armin closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, he realized he was not in the barracks, but in another place: a place that caused his airstream to hitch, a place that settled a deep remorse within him.
The land here was not bleak or frost-enveloped; instead vibrant tulips blossomed on windowsills, lining the road where tufts of green poked through eroded cobblestone. The azure sky seemed to glimmer above where he stood, a vast unknown land commanded by the blazing sun that warmed his skin.
A breeze ruffled his clothes. Leaves crackled airborne in a wind-dance, twirling in the wind before swooping away and settling near an embankment, as if they were silently beckoning to him. His eyes followed, and he silently understood, his feet moving before his mind could think.
Sat on the edge of the elevated path, sat two boys. Their feet hung loosely over the edge, overlooking the canal that flowed through the inner town. One boy had a golden bob; the other a head of short, messy umber hair.
Armin’s breath caught.
The blond boy was smiling, a smile too big for his little face as he pointed at an aged book in his lap. His blue eyes sparkled like the glistening canal below, his cheeks a faint rosy pink.
He was happy. A carefree, genuine happiness that seemed to glow around him like a blanket of warmth, an innocent youthful joy that Armin had not felt in years.
This was no dream.
This was a memory.
“I really hope this is your idea of a joke, Armin,” the brunet boy huffed, failing to hide the intrigued glint in his green gaze, “stuff about the outside world is illegal. Seriously, you could go to jail for that.”
A sharp pang of something hit Armin’s chest upon hearing that pretentious child voice. It was all too familiar and all too distant. He took a cautious step forward, stepping off the fading road and onto the earth.
His younger self set the book down between them with a thump, flipping through worn pages. His words were quick and pitched with utmost awe.
“Trust me, you’d change your mind if you knew what was actually out there, Eren!” He turned to a tattered page featuring paled illustrations of crashing waves and foaming water. “I found this at my Grandpa’s house,” he explained ecstatically. He pointed to the drawing. “Look. According to this book, most of the world is covered with salty water so deep you can’t even reach the bottom!
“There’s a name for it, too! They call it the ‘sea.’”
“Like, salty for real?” Eren raised a brow skeptically. “Come on, you’re making it up. If something valuable like salt was just floating around underwater, merchants would’ve scooped it out ages ago—”
“That’s the thing—the sea never runs out! It’s that big!”
“Yeah, whatever,” Eren muttered, leaning back on his hands; but he was certainly intrigued, even if he tried to conceal it.
“Just bear with me—there’s a lot more than salt: liquid that glows like fire, fields of ice, giant rocks that take days to climb; imagine how huge the outside world must be!”
Eren leaned forward, now looking at the page with him. “It does sound really neat.”
Armin smiled, his eyes darting across the paper, a kind of wonder only a kid could experience engulfing him. After a moment, he glanced up at Eren, locking eyes with him. It felt as if there was a magical solemnity about him.
“Look at me. We should do it ourselves someday—we can have adventures like the guy who wrote this book! Beyond the walls.”
Such talk was taboo. But Eren didn’t scold him.
“It’s a promise, Armin,” Eren whispered, his gaze never wavering from Armin’s. “We’ll see the sea together one day. We’ll climb the giant rocks and we’ll conquer the icy fields. We’ll do everything together.”
“Yeah. Sounds good. Really good.”
The ground shook in a violent rumble.
A heavy, sickening silence settled across the town as mankind turned their heads to the sky in pure terror. Rising above the fifty-meter wall stood a Colossal Titan, breathtaking and utterly horrifying. The clock hands would turn to the Shiganshina massacre’s beginning, Eren would watch his own mother ingested, and the two boys would escape onto a refugee boat, abandoning their beloved home and venturing into the real world. They would leave behind their precious childhood, embarking on their soldier careers, where they would watch their devoted friends grotesquely perish at the hands of the Titans.
What was it all for?
When Armin woke, his cheeks were damp with tears, and his heart had never felt emptier. He lifted his sleeve to his face,
2
wiping away incessant sweat and licks of dried blood. The training ground was a blend of sighs and heavy breaths—concluding a jarring, everlasting session of sparring.
“Come on, Armin, I’m sick of going easy on you. How am I ever supposed to get better?”
Armin muttered an incoherent mumble, falling in foot beside Eren as they headed down the path towards the barracks.
Eren’s back was straight, his arms swinging loosely at his side.
Armin’s feet felt like bricks.
“Tired,” he said under his dramatic pants.
Eren suppressed an eye roll, wrapping one arm around Armin’s smaller shoulder. “You’re a wimp.”
Armin barely heard him. He shivered slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was from the sudden breeze or Eren’s bicep pressed against his upper arm.
After taking quick showers, they had both agreed to go to ‘their spot’ (after lots of coercion from Eren—Armin had just about fallen asleep standing up by the time Eren had reappeared).
They followed down the familiar sideroute through a patch of brush, emerging into the isolated clearing where a small pond rippled in the setting sun and a tall pine tree seemed to beckon to them as it always did.
Armin’s back slid down the aged trunk of the fir. Birds whistled quietly above him.
Eren bent down and grabbed a small handful of shiny pebbles, placing some in his trousers and throwing the others into the water with a flick of his wrist. The rocks skidded and bounced before sinking.
“What regiment d’you think you’ll join?” A soft splash followed Eren’s voice.
A small wave rolled through Armin’s stomach. Just the thought of graduating from a cadet to a full-fledged soldier made him nervous.
Time really did fly. What had it been? Five years?
He didn’t need to think long about his answer. “If you want to be a scout, then I’m a scout. If you want to join the MPs, then I’m an MP. If you want to—”
“Tch. As if I’d ever even think about joining the MPs. Getting drunk on the job while others are dying for humanity’s survival.” He disregarded the Military Police with a harder, quicker skip of a rock.
A long silence followed. Eren’s rock-throwing ceased.
“I want to join the Scouts.”
A strong wind howled, Armin’s clothes flapping with his widening eyes.
Hardly anyone joined the Scouts.
It was like sending yourself to your own death. Venturing outside the walls, reclaiming territory—there was bound to be a Titan waiting at every corner.
“Eren, you’ll die—”
“Maybe. But if nobody’s willing to die for change, then we can never win,” Eren’s voice came instantly, steadfast. He turned his head, looking Armin in the eye. The intensity of his stare spread goosebumps over Armin’s flesh.
“We made a promise. Do you remember? We promised to see what’s beyond these walls. We promised to reach the sea, we promised.”
Armin froze. A sour lump formed in his throat.
“You don’t have to come with me, Armin.” Eren turned to the towering northward wall, his head tilting back. “But I can’t stay here.”
Eren looked so strong standing there, his back a silhouette, the dipping sun reflecting off his rigid shoulders and his clenched fists. He looked so determined, so valiant, like the soldier Armin would never be.
Armin’s heart raced, a powerful sentiment washing over him, an inexplicable desire coursing through every fiber of his being.
It was at this moment that Armin understood his love for Eren stretched beyond the limitations of just friendship.
“I’m going with you,” he said, standing up and walking towards him. “You’re right. We can’t win
3
if we don’t fight!” Eren yelled, thrusting his fist into the air. The cadets’ determined screams filled the air, a blur of risen palms surging through the rain.
It was the day before recruitment; it was supposed to have been an exciting day—young soldiers celebrating their hard-earned skills and impatiently awaiting enlistment.
Instead, the Titans had infiltrated Wall Rose and had thus begun their attack on Trost.
Armin and Eren’s squad had been stationed at the vanguard—the very front defensive force against the Titans.
Armin soared in between rows of buildings, his ODM gear whipping through the wind like a blade slicing across a Titan nape.
They advanced steadily, steering around a corner as someone called shrilly: “Look out!”
It was too late.
An awaiting Titan propelled its legs upward from the ground, snapping its jaws on Reiner. A terrible scream escaped him, his leg cleanly snapping off as his body plummeted to the ground fifteen meters below.
“Reiner!” Armin cried out, just dodging the blood-soaked Titan, his body jerking to the right at the pull of his wires. He looked back, his eyes wide in a horrified look of despair.
“Don’t stop, there’s nothing we can do!” Jean screeched in front of him.
The titan scooped Reiner up in his palm like he was a mere snack, flicking the thrashing boy into its mouth and clenching its teeth together with a crimson-splattering snap.
Armin’s jaw was set in a petrified gape, forcing his head forward as he blankly continued to tail behind the others.
This world is now truly becoming Hell.
Marco, closely beside him, was yanked into the grasp of another Titan, his screams quickly silenced.
No. . . It’s always been Hell. I’m just now realizing it.
“Somebody help me!” A desperate cry sounded to his right. The crunching of bones followed.
All of these people have hopes. All of these people have dreams.
Why the hell do they deserve to die?
Squad leaders shouted orders over screams, Titans fell, and rain continued to pour relentlessly as if the Heavens themselves were weeping.
It all felt distant to Armin, as if he were somewhere else, trapped in some horrible nightmare where he had to watch all of his closest friends die.
Three Titans materialized ahead.
“Assume Position C! Eren and Armin, take the right Titan! Annie and Bertolt take the middle! Connie and I will tackle the left!”
Armin locked eyes with Eren.
Eren had a deep, solemn frown on his face. His brows bore into his sockets. A fire burned in his eyes. His jaw clenched.
He’s ready. He’s ready to lay down his life if it comes down to it.
But more than that, he looks like he wants to tear the Titans apart until they’re just a big splatter of blood on a grey, depressing canvas.
Armin wanted to be brave. He always had.
Instead, an immense terror settled in his chest. His lungs burned. His breath was shallow and quick.
I don’t know if I can. . . do this. . .
They headed to their assigned Titan, the beast wobbling slowly. It almost looked too still, too motionless.
Eren nodded at Armin, charging first as he fired his anchor into a nearby chimney. His body swung forward, reckless, his face set in a furious scream as he oscillated his arms behind his back, blades at the ready.
You’re going too fast, Eren—
A second Titan appeared behind rubble, rupturing through the material, its ugly mouth watering.
Eren was too focused to notice.
The Titan leaped forward.
Armin didn’t freeze this time.
Before he could even think, he shot himself forward at top speed—slamming into Eren, sending him spiraling into a nearby roof with a cut-off yelp of surprise.
you can’t win if you don’t fight you can’t win if you don’t fight you can’t win if you don’t fight
Armin’s body collided with the Titan’s jaw perfectly,
we’ll climb the giant rocks and we’ll conquer the icy fields we’ll do everything together
his legs dangling in the wet inside of the creature’s mouth.
understood his love for Eren stretched beyond the limitations of just friendship
The Titan’s teeth snapped down.
His legs tore from his body.
His lower ribs shattered with a sickening crunch. His blood sprayed his clothes from head to swallowed toe.
He fell through the air, shrieking.
His back slammed against roof tiles.
Eren screamed, somewhere close yet so far away in his ringing ears.
Armin’s blood pooled around him, trickling down the tiles in quick currents. His eyes fluttered in and out of focus, his body shaking with tears that poured down his face, intermixing with the rain that quickly turned red. His breaths grew short and irregular. He wailed raggedly, barely managing to make sounds as the pain consumed his body whole.
Eren scrambled desperately over towards him, panting and wheezing, his own tears cascading down the planes of his horror-stricken face. He ignored anything else, his vision tunneling in on Armin, the nearby Titans meaningless to him. He was yelling something, but Armin couldn’t make it out.
Eren’s face came into focus against the bleak sky, his tears falling onto Armin and blending with his own. Eren’s hands wrapped around what was left of Armin’s figure, pressing on his wounds and chest.
“You’re gonna be fine, Armin, okay? You’re gonna be fine!” His voice cracked, a sob wrecking him, his fingers trembling on his soaked shirt.
Armin was trying desperately to memorize Eren’s face—his green eyes he always thought were beautiful, his tousled brown hair that Armin wished he could’ve ran his fingers through more, his soft lips that still looked perfect despite how much they were trembling.
With all his strength, he lifted his shaking hand and grasped Eren’s, feeling his heartbeat through his wrist for the last time.
“I’m sorry. . . I couldn’t. . . I couldn’t make a change. . .” Armin’s breathing grew wet.
Eren sobbed, his hand squeezing tighter, his head shaking. “You changed me, Armin.” Eren’s voice rose to a high-pitch cry, his whole body shaking with each breath. “You mattered more than any of this. . . don’t you dare die, you hear me?”
His breath hitched. Armin’s vision darkened.
Armin fought desperately to make his lips move, to force sound from his collapsing throat. He wanted to tell Eren how much he loved him—
—but the world faded, Eren’s screams gradually dimmed, and Armin felt his hand go limp in Eren’s.
The rain ran off the roof in streams like tiny rivers.
Like waves.
Like the sea they never reached.