Archive of Our Own

The basement in the Yeager family home was not a good place to do homework. That had been an absolute fact for a long time.

It was too cold at night, too messy during the day, and featured an old sofa that somehow made anyone who sat on it lose all motivation to do anything except sleep.

Yet, somehow, for years, this room had been the main headquarters for the six of them. A shelter from reality.

That day, according to the original plan made in their group chat at nine in the morning, they were supposed to gather to work on a group project. Supposed to.

In reality, the basement currently looked like the aftermath of a medium-scale natural disaster.

Armin Arlert sat cross-legged on the floor with a burning laptop on his lap. Out of the six of them, Armin was the only human being left who still cared about his grades and actually wanted to finish the assignment before the deadline destroyed their academic lives.

In front of Armin, three sheets of draft paper were scattered about. Beside him, thick reference books lay wide open.

And right next to those books, Connie Springer was lying flat on his back on the carpet, staring at the ceiling as if questioning his own existence in the universe. Sasha Braus sat leaning against the leg of the sofa, busy munching on potato chips. Jean Kirstein was lying face down on the old couch, eyes staring blankly at the corner of the room with the expression of a man whose soul had just been extracted. Mikasa Ackerman sat quietly in the corner, reading a thick novel, completely undisturbed by the chaos around her. And Eren Yeager—the source of all Armin's suffering—sat holding an old acoustic guitar, strumming the exact same chord over and over again.

"If you keep playing that," Armin said without raising his head from his laptop screen, "I'm going to confiscate your guitar."

Eren stopped strumming, his fingers still resting on the strings. "I'm thinking, Armin."

"You've been playing the exact same four chords for twenty minutes."

"It's called thinking musically."

"It's called noise pollution."

Eren snorted loudly. Completely ignoring Armin's warning, he went back to strumming the guitar with a very unfounded amount of confidence.

Jean, who had looked like a living corpse on the couch until now, finally turned his head slowly. His hand was still propping up his head.

"Your third chord is wrong, idiot."

Eren's hands froze mid-air above the strings. "What?"

"Your third chord," Jean repeated, his voice sounding a lot more lively now that he smelled a potential argument. "It sounds off. Your fingers are in the wrong position."

"I know what I'm playing," Eren snapped.

Jean sat up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow on the sofa armrest. "No, you don't. You're just hitting strings and praying it sounds good."

Eren narrowed his eyes. "If you think you know so much, why don't you play it yourself?"

Jean shrugged with a wildly provocative smirk. "Because I'm not holding the guitar."

"That is the stupidest excuse I've ever heard."

"And you play guitar with an even stupider technique."

On the floor, Connie opened one eye. "Ooh..."

Sasha stopped chewing. A potato chip hung precariously from her lips.

Mikasa lowered her book by a few millimeters, watching the situation unfold.

Armin closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a long, desperate sigh. They all knew exactly what was going to happen next. When Eren Yeager's ego collided with Jean Kirstein's pride, there was no turning back.

Eren set his guitar down on the floor with a quiet thud and stood up. "Get up."

Jean looked at him blankly. "Why?"

"If you think you're so great, prove it. Take the guitar."

Jean gave a crooked smile—the exact kind of smile that made Eren want to punch his face. "Finally, a challenge."

Jean got off the couch, fixed his t-shirt, and picked up Eren's acoustic guitar. He sat on the edge of the sofa, holding the instrument with an annoying amount of casualness.

Eren crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall while glaring at Jean. "Go ahead, Maestro."

Jean strummed the first string to check the tuning. Then, with smooth, effortless finger movements, he played the exact same sequence of chords Eren had been trying to play earlier.

The difference? Jean's chords were clean. His finger transitions were stable. And worst of all—the melody sounded way, way better.

The basement went dead silent.

Connie immediately sat up straight. Sasha literally forgot to chew the chip in her mouth. Armin looked up from his laptop, eyes wide open. Mikasa watched Jean with a calm expression, though her eyebrows raised just a little.

Eren stood frozen. His face didn't move, but his eyes radiated pure malice.

Jean finished the short song with a sweet harmonic strum, then handed the guitar back toward Eren.

"Still want to say I was wrong?"

Eren snatched the guitar from Jean's hands. "Yes."

Jean let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You are so annoying."

"At least I don't pretend to know everything."

"You are really, really annoying, Yeager."

"Thanks for the compliment."

Suddenly, a knocking sound broke the tension between them.

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

Connie was tapping the surface of the small wooden table next to him with both palms.

Jean turned his head, eyebrow raised. "What are you doing, Connie?"

"I don't know," Connie said innocently, staring blankly into space.

Tap-tap. Slap. Tap.

Connie began assembling a simple drum rhythm using a combination of finger taps, table slaps, and heel thumps against the carpeted floor.

Hearing the beat, Sasha's eyes suddenly lit up. She started humming along to Connie's rhythm. "Hmm-hmm-hmm... La-la-la..."

Eren, whose anger was still burning, strummed his acoustic guitar once, very loudly, to join the rhythm.

Connie added variations to his table tapping, speeding up the tempo. Sasha sang louder while slapping her own knees. Jean, refusing to be left out, grabbed a metal ruler from the floor and started hitting an empty soda bottle to create a cymbal effect.

Mikasa looked at the four of them one by one, completely expressionless.

Armin looked at his laptop screen. Then he looked at them. Then back to his laptop screen. Their group project's existence was hanging by a thread.

"Don't," Armin said softly, his voice full of impending doom.

Eren looked over at Armin. "What?"

"I know that look on your face, Eren."

"I haven't even said a word!"

"That's the problem! That smile is dangerous!"

Eren smiled wide. It was a classic Eren Yeager smile—the kind of smile that usually meant a brand new disastrous idea had just been born inside his head, and Armin needed to prepare to be the victim.

"Let's start a band," Eren said firmly.

Silence.

Jean blinked a few times. Connie stopped hitting the table. Sasha swallowed her remaining chip without chewing. Mikasa raised both eyebrows.

Armin slowly closed his laptop lid. "Pardon me?"

"Let's start a band," Eren repeated, his voice growing more confident as if he had just discovered the cure for a deadly disease.

"Why?" Armin asked dramatically.

"Why not?"

"That is not a logical answer, Eren!"

Eren stood tall in the middle of the room, pointing at each of them one by one like a revolutionary leader.

"I can sing and play guitar!"

Jean interrupted without missing a single second. "And I can play guitar ten times better than you."

Eren completely ignored Jean. "Jean can play guitar."

"I can sing, too!" Jean added, refusing to lose.

Eren turned, looking Jean up and down. "You?"

Jean frowned. "Why does your voice sound like an insult?"

"Because it is an insult."

"Screw you, Yeager!"

Before World War III could break out, Sasha suddenly raised her hand high in the air. "Me! I can play bass!"

Every head in the room suddenly turned toward Sasha.

Jean blinked, confused. "You? You can play bass?"

Sasha nodded with incredible confidence and dignity. "Yes."

"Since when?" Jean asked suspiciously.

Sasha paused for a second, her eyes rolling upward. "In about five minutes."

"...That doesn't mean you can play, Sasha!"

Sasha ignored Jean completely and pointed to the darkest corner of the basement. Leaning there was an instrument covered in a thick layer of dust.

"That's Zeke's bass, right?"

Eren looked over, surprised. "Why is my brother's bass here?"

"He left it here when he came over a while ago," Sasha answered casually.

"And you took it?!"

"Borrowed!" Sasha corrected quickly.

"Since when?!"

Sasha shrugged. "A few months ago."

Eren stared at Sasha in disbelief. "So... you've actually been practicing bass all this time?"

Sasha walked over to the corner of the room, picked up the old bass, and walked back to the middle of the basement. She stared at the four-stringed instrument for a few seconds with an extremely serious expression.

Then, she looked up at Eren. "You just pluck the strings, right?"

Jean immediately covered his entire face with both hands. "Oh, God... help us."

Connie was practically rolling on the floor laughing. "It's official! This is going to be the worst band ever created in human history!"

"I'm not finished!" Eren turned and pointed fiercely at Connie. "You!"

"What? What about me?"

"You play drums."

Connie, who was just laughing a second ago, sat up straight and puffed out his chest. "I can do it. I'm ready."

Jean stared at Connie closely. "Have you ever played drums before?"

"Never."

"Then you can't!"

"There's an old drum kit belonging to my cousin in my garage!" Connie countered defensively.

"Having a drum kit in your garage doesn't automatically give you drum talent, Connie!"

Connie shrugged casually. "Looks easy. Just hitting wooden sticks on drum skins."

Armin closed his eyes tight, clutching his own hair. "Why does everyone in this room have a very, very low definition of 'ability'?"

Eren ignored Armin and pointed his finger toward the corner where Mikasa was sitting. "And Mikasa plays keyboard."

Mikasa instantly shook her head without hesitation. "No."

"You've been playing piano since elementary school, Mikasa!"

"Piano and keyboard are different things," Mikasa answered calmly.

"Slight difference! They both have black and white keys!"

"Still different."

"Why?"

Mikasa closed her novel with a soft snap. "Because piano is played alone in a quiet practice room."

She shifted her gaze to Eren's guitar, then to Connie, then to Jean.

"If we actually start a band, I'll have to follow your messy rhythm. And I'll have to perform on stage in front of a lot of people."

"Yeah, that's literally the concept of a band!" Eren said.

"I don't like performing in front of crowds."

Eren went quiet for a moment. His brain was working hard to find a way to manipulate her. A sly smile spread across his face. "You can stand all the way in the back."

Mikasa looked at Eren blankly. "And?"

"And you just need to stare at your keyboard keys the whole time."

"How does that help me?"

"Technically, if you stare at your keyboard keys, you don't have to look at the crowd's faces. Just pretend you're alone in your room."

Jean nodded in agreement. "That is extremely stupid logic... but somehow it makes sense for Mikasa's problem."

Mikasa looked at them one by one.

Sasha was currently struggling to put Zeke's old bass strap over her shoulder—upside down. Connie was already up on his feet, ready to sprint home to drag the drum set out of his garage. Jean was holding the acoustic guitar, smirking like a guy who was catching Eren's madness. And Eren himself was staring at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

Mikasa let out a long sigh—a total defeat.

"Fine," Mikasa said softly.

Eren immediately jumped up, punching the air. "YES!"

"I'm only trying it out," Mikasa added quickly. "If I don't like it, I'm quitting immediately."

"Sure! Absolutely!"

"And we don't have to perform on any stages."

Eren froze for two seconds. "Yeah. Deal."

Jean laughed out loud from the couch. "You're lying, Yeager! It's written all over your face!"

"I'm not lying!" Eren yelled.

"You just lied so Mikasa would agree!"

In the middle of the noise, Armin slowly raised his hand high. "Hold on. Listen to me."

Everyone turned to look at Armin.

"I'm not joining," Armin said firmly. "Period."

Eren pointed at Armin's face without hesitation. "You're our manager."

Armin glared. "I haven't even agreed to let this idiot band exist!"

"You're the most qualified person here!"

"I am trying to finish our group project that is due tomorrow!"

"Exactly!" Eren interrupted enthusiastically.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You like bossing people around!"

Armin stared at Eren with a cold, flat look. "I do not like bossing people around."

The other five—Eren, Jean, Connie, Sasha, and Mikasa—stared at Armin at the exact same time without blinking. Silence filled the room for five whole seconds.

Armin pressed his lips together. "...Fine," Armin admitted finally. "I do like bossing people around."

"Settled! Manager!" Eren shouted.

"Not so fast!" Armin shot back quickly. "If—if—I become your manager, there are conditions. First, I won't touch any instruments. I don't play music."

"Agreed!"

"Second, I will never stand on stage."

"Totally agreed!"

"I will only handle administrative stuff, like practice schedules, recording, managing social media, and making sure you guys don't burn the practice space down."

Eren immediately held his hand out. "Welcome to the band, Manager Armin."

Armin looked at Eren's outstretched hand with total disgust. He did not shake it at all.

"What's the name?" Armin asked shortly.

Eren scratched the back of his head. "Don't know yet."

"Don't pick a stupid name," Armin warned.

Connie, who had just walked back toward the door, suddenly yelled, "Connie and the Boys!"

"Rejected," Mikasa said coldly.

Eren slapped his chest. "Yeager Bomb!"

"Rejected. Too trashy," Armin said quickly.

"How about Six Idiots?" Connie suggested again, completely unbothered.

Jean looked at Connie with furrowed brows. "Why does that sound like a name we'll regret for the rest of our lives?"

"Because we are six idiots," Connie replied casually.

Sasha, who finally managed to put Zeke's old bass strap on correctly, raised her hand. "How about Meat Lovers?"

All eyes turned to Sasha.

"Why Meat Lovers?" Jean asked, exhausted.

"Because I love meat. And meat pizza is delicious."

Armin rubbed both of his throbbing temples. "This band name is going to be our first crisis..."

Eren chuckled, patting Armin's shoulder. "Relax. We'll figure out a name later. What matters now is that we have a full lineup!"

The next day, late afternoon after classes ended.

Armin walked down the stairs into the basement of Eren's house. But as soon as he pushed open the wood-grain door, he froze at the threshold.

His eyes went wide.

"Why..." Armin stammered, "...why is all this stuff here?!"

Eren looked over from the couch, grinning wide. "Because we're serious, Armin."

"Serious?!"

"Dead serious."

Armin scanned the room, which now felt remarkably smaller.

On the left was Eren's acoustic guitar and Jean's electric guitar brought from home. Near the couch was Zeke's old bass. In the right corner, Mikasa's electronic keyboard was neatly set up on its stand.

And right in the middle of the basement—taking up almost fifty percent of the entire room—stood a bright red drum set, complete with shiny cymbals.

"Connie..." Armin looked at the massive drum kit in horror. "You actually brought the entire drum set from your garage all the way here?!"

Connie, sitting on the drum throne holding two wooden sticks, nodded proudly. "Yup!"

"How?! Your house is three blocks away!"

"Don't ask," Connie said mysteriously.

Armin glared at him. "I have to ask, Connie! This stuff is heavy!"

"To be honest... I don't really know how I got it here either," Connie confessed innocently.

On the other side of the room, Jean was busy tuning his electric guitar, which was plugged into a small amplifier. "We haven't even decided what song we're going to play."

Eren sat cross-legged on the floor, holding his guitar. "That's why we're figuring it out together right now."

Sasha was already holding Zeke's old bass, her fingers feeling around the wooden body of the instrument. "Hey, how do you turn this thing on?"

Jean stared at Sasha in disbelief. "Sasha... that's an acoustic-electric bass. It doesn't have a Power button."

"Oh."

Sasha nodded in understanding, and then, without warning, she plucked the thickest string as hard as she could.

THUMMMMMMM!

A loud, low hum echoed through the entire basement, making the tiny glass window near the ceiling vibrate violently. Everyone cringed and covered their ears instantly.

"Don't do that again!" Jean barked.

"Why?" Sasha asked innocently.

"Because my ears still need to function!"

Mikasa, already sitting gracefully in front of her keyboard, started pressing a few keys. Soft piano notes filled the basement air. For a few precious seconds, the chaotic room suddenly felt peaceful and quiet.

Mikasa played a short, beautiful, melodic sequence.

Eren stared at Mikasa without blinking. Jean was stunned too. Connie smiled wide at the sound. Sasha, mesmerized, tried to pluck her bass string to accompany Mikasa.

THUM!

"Don't," Mikasa said quickly without turning around.

Sasha hid her fingers behind the bass body. "Sorry..."

Eren started strumming his guitar, trying to match Mikasa's key. Jean joined in with his instrument. Connie, getting overly excited, started hitting the drums—but came in way too fast and way too loud. Sasha tried to catch up with the tempo, but ended up two beats late. Mikasa tried with all her heart to hold their notes together.

The result?

In less than ten seconds, Mikasa's beautiful melody turned into absolute noise pollution—sounding like five cats having a brutal fight inside a metal tin.

"STOP!" Armin screamed at the top of his lungs, covering both ears.

Everyone immediately stopped playing. Instant silence.

Eren wiped the sweat from his forehead and raised a hand. "But just now... we almost got the rhythm, right?"

"You guys weren't even playing the same song, Eren!" Armin shouted in frustration.

"That's why we need practice," Jean chimed in. He cleared his throat softly. "And for the first time in my life... I agree with Yeager."

Connie twirled a drumstick between his fingers, trying to look cool. "Armin, record us."

Armin turned, confused. "What?"

"Record me with your phone."

"For what?"

"I want to see what my drum playing looks like from an audience perspective."

"Are you going to post it on social media?" Armin asked suspiciously.

Connie smiled confidently. "Maybe."

Armin sighed, reached into his pants pocket, and pulled out his phone. "Fine. Just one minute."

Armin pointed his phone camera at all of them and pressed the red record button. "Three, two, one... action."

Connie started hitting the drums.

Surprisingly...

Connie's drum playing wasn't bad. Not bad at all. In fact... it was pretty good. His beat was steady, his rhythm memory was sharp, and he pulled off a simple fill-in super smoothly.

Eren stared at Connie with wide eyes. Jean stopped strumming his guitar, mouth slightly open. Sasha froze her fingers over the bass strings.

"Since when can you play drums like that?!" Sasha whispered, shocked.

Connie kept hitting the drums while smiling proudly. "Told you yesterday I could do it!"

"But yesterday you said playing drums just looked easy!" Jean yelled.

"It does!" Connie answered triumphantly. "And when I tried it... it actually was easy!"

Jean scoffed in annoyance. "Cocky bald guy."

Seeing Connie provide a solid drum beat, Eren started strumming his acoustic guitar to the tempo. Jean joined in with rhythm electric guitar, filling the gaps. Mikasa adjusted her fingers on the keyboard keys, adding a sweet harmony. Sasha tried plucking her bass string again—and this time, her timing was much better.

It wasn't great yet. The blend was still rough, and Eren and Jean's attempt at background vocals overlapped chaotically without any clear lead singer.

But... they were playing together.

Armin stood frozen behind his phone screen, recording the moment. For the first time since this crazy idea was brought up yesterday afternoon, the noise coming out of their instruments didn't sound like complete chaos anymore.

They sounded like a band. A very messy, amateurish, and chaotic band—but still a band.

The random song ended with a loud cymbal crash from Connie.

Everyone went quiet, holding their breath.

Eren broke into a wide smile. "We're actually good."

Jean nodded slowly, pretending to stay calm even though his eyes were shining. "Not bad. Not embarrassing."

Mikasa let a tiny smile appear at the corner of her lips.

Sasha raised her bass high in the air. "It's set! We have to become famous rock stars!"

Armin lowered his phone, glaring at them. "Don't get your hopes up. This was just our first practice."

Out of nowhere, Connie suddenly snatched the phone from Armin's hand. "Gimme, I wanna see how it turned out!"

"Hey! Don't just take—"

"I'm uploading this!" Connie cheered happily, his fingers tapping Armin's phone screen at light speed.

"Connie, DON'T—"

Too late.

The loading indicator on Armin's phone screen spun for a brief moment, then turned into a green notification: Video uploaded successfully.

Armin snatched his phone back, eyes almost popping out. "Connie... are you crazy?!"

Connie blinked innocently. "Why?"

"You haven't even created an official account for the band!"

"Oh right..." Connie scratched his smooth head. "Guess the video got posted on your personal account, Armin."

Armin shut his eyes tight. A massive headache slammed right into his brain. "Dear God... give me strength."

That night, everyone went home. Not a single one of them thought about that 45-second amateur video again.

They ate dinner, finished their overdue college assignments, and slept soundly.

None of the six youngsters knew that the moment the sun rose the next morning, their peaceful life was going to change completely.

Because when Armin woke up at six in the morning and opened his phone—the screen lagged terribly due to an unstoppable flood of notifications.

Comment notifications. Like notifications. Share notifications. Mention notifications.

The view count on the video Connie uploaded yesterday was skyrocketing like a crazy stock graph.

1,000 views. 5,000 views. 10,000 views. 20,000 views.

Armin sat frozen on his bed, slowly pulling off his blanket. "...What on earth is this?"

With shaking hands, he opened the video.

It was an amateur video with blurry basement lighting that lasted less than a minute. Inside the video, Connie was beating the drums with a cocky face, Eren and Jean were holding guitars while glaring at each other like they wanted to commit murder, Sasha was holding the bass with an overly serious expression like she was performing surgery, and Mikasa was playing keyboard in the corner looking like an ice goddess.

In the background, Eren and Jean's voices overlapped as they sang at the same time with lyrics that didn't even make sense.

The video was a mess. A complete, total mess.

But somehow... the internet algorithm loved it. And people in the comment section loved it.

Armin read the top comment that had thousands of likes:

The comment below it:

The next comment:

And the most replied comment:

Armin stared at the view count, which had just hit 27,000 views.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated violently in his hand. A group message came in from Eren.

Armin quickly typed back.

Three seconds later, Eren replied.

Armin stared at his phone screen for a long time. He let out a long sigh, set the phone down on his bed, and walked over to his desk to open his laptop.

Their group project was still unfinished. Their idiot band was only one day old. They didn't even have a band name yet. And now... the entire internet had discovered their existence.

Armin leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at his bedroom ceiling.

"I hate all of you..." he whispered in defeat.

His phone on the bed vibrated loudly again.

Armin closed his eyes. This was going to be the biggest disaster of his life.

Yet, somehow... at the corner of his mouth, Armin started to smile a little.