FOR ALL WHO REMAIN [1/3]

A/N: In terms of timeline, the first part of the trio takes place probably around their last two years as trainees, while the second will take place during the time spent at the cabin (post Ch. 50 in the manga), though I've done my best to keep things major spoiler free, the third will take place about a year or two after that, branching off from the timeline given.

Also, I'm no dance expert, but I drew much of my inspiration for the first two dance scenes from a variety of English, French, and German contredances as well as other traditional dances.

Eremika will feature strongly in the upcoming chapters.


Chapter 1: She Loved La Boulanger

Shardis tells them that real soldiers don't go to festivals. Real soldiers don't have time to be sentimental. But he ends training early, nonetheless, leaving them with enough time for the seven mile walk to the nearest village—though not without having them clean the barracks from top to bottom first.

The village is no Shiganishina, but it still fills the trio with nostalgia. The entire town is bursting at the seams, filled with countless of others who've made the journey to the nearest village on the river. Music and familiar smells waft through the air, and vendors line the streets with charismatic little stalls, the inviting scents wetting the palates of those passing by. Only a handful of the trainees purchase the little star-shaped candies, while the rest of them stare enviously, left only to imagine the tastes of past New Year's long ago.

The three of them pool their money together to buy a single candle from one of the stalls set a ways away from the center of town, where the crowd has thinned out, and the music barely carries.

"I haven't seen your faces here before," the man says as he hands them a candle, a match, and some rope for the raft. "You kids travel far?"

"We're trainees from the military camp a ways away, Sir," Mikasa answers. The man nods.

They hold out five coins, but he waves them aside.

"Keep it," he says. And he pulls a tattered Garrison crest from his breast pocket. "This was my eldest's." He salutes them: hand crossing his heart, and the other at his back in a way that makes Armin's chest burst simultaneously with pride and sorrow.

In unison, they return the tribute, doing their best to match his passion and honor, thank him, and continue on their way, leaving the man and his stall behind.

Back in the chaos of the main streets, they're forced to fight their way through a crowd gathered in front of a particularly large stall. And when Armin sees why, he stops too.

They're beautiful: adorned in colorful ribbons and flowers, grandiose miniature ships fit to hold five candles at the very least. He's most enraptured by the sails, which he points out to Eren. Hand-embroidered sparrows flit across the fabric, their wings spread as they're carried by the wind—they're for decorative purposes only, of course, not actually meant to catch the wind.

But Mikasa reminds them with a gentle nudge that the coins in their pockets aren't heavy enough to anchor them there. And so they move on.

Armin knows it's not intentional, but they end up in the town square anyways, drawn by the lively music and thunderous steps on the cobblestone ground.

"They're about to play the last song," he says, watching as the crowd begins to form up in circles. "Hey!"

Mikasa is quick to pull them into the fray, Armin on her left, and Eren on her right, both boys helplessly struggling to escape. She pays them no heed.

And when the band starts up, they're trapped. The song starts up much faster than Armin anticipates, and he trips and stumbles as he practically runs to keep up with everyone else, as they move round in a circle. He looks to Mikasa, who gives him a reassuring squeeze of the hand before forcefully tugging Eren along—adamant on walking.

"Eren. Skip."

"I didn't ask for this!"

"Your mother loved La Boulanger. I know you know this dance."

And sure enough, when the first exchange occurs, Eren completes the handoffs flawlessly—despite the evident reluctance to do so displayed on his face and in his steps. When he returns back to Mikasa's side, he joins hands with her again with a grip intent on stinging, and holds back a wince when she returns the grip with more force.

Armin stares at him in awe as they circle round again.

"Shut up," Eren grumbles.

They twirl, and spin, and skip, and it reminds Armin of lighter festivals past when he spun with his mother on his right, and his father to his left, his feet dangling as they swung him round and round, a smile on his face, and laughter on his lips.

Now, their circle skips counterclockwise, turning back the hands of time. And Armin recollects every memory, every dance, the nostalgia of lighter days filling him with so much joy that he throws his head back and laughs, setting his jubilation free into the fading light of the sky.

The dance ends, and they're doubled over, out of breath from laughter. Mikasa covers her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut, as she muffles the sound of her bell-like giggle. Eren's face is still set in its perpetual frown, but his eyes, crinkled at the edges, beg to contradict, and his shoulders shake with what his pride won't let him speak.

"Eren," Mikasa says when laughter permits, "don't do that to your face. Just smile."

"You're the one who's covering your mouth," Eren retorts with as much force as he can muster, though his voice wavers as he does so, "I'll smile when you laugh. Hypocrite."

In truth, Armin wishes that they'd both let themselves laugh, for it seems that over the years they've simply forgotten how. And now, now that they've remembered, now that the memory has returned, they can't find it within themselves to set it free, can't find it within themselves to let themselves be happy—just for this moment. And they deserve to be happy. They all do. But then Armin remembers what day it is, the candle in his pocket, and why they're here in the first place, and that is enough to understand why Mikasa and Eren won't let their laughter ring. Armin curses his own foolishness.

"To the river!" someone cries out. And for the second time that night, Mikasa takes both Armin and Eren's hands in her own, and leads them to follow the procession.

. . .

Armin's breath wafts out as fog before him, and he shivers; the grass crunches beneath his feet, yet the river flows on—it won't freeze over for another three weeks.

They fashion a raft out of some sticks and the rope, Eren strikes the match upon his shoe, and they set their raft afloat amongst similar ones made by the other trainees.

Thousands of flames flicker off the surface of the water. The river becomes illuminated. Sometimes the candles burn for a son or a daughter who disappeared in The Fall, a mother, a father, a sister, a brother, a child lost in infancy—their loved ones cast them adrift in the river, watching with pain invading their memories, and hope filling their hearts as the current carries them away.

The three of them set their candle in the water for parents gone too soon: for two parents gone with a knock on the door, two parents called away by the world outside, a grandfather stolen away by some higher hand, a mother lost when the great wall fell, and the sky cried tears of red, for a father who disappeared, the candle burns for seven souls in total, it's like a beacon, guiding them towards freedom.

They link hands, and see their little raft off as it joins the thousands of other floating lights down the steady lull of the river.

"I miss them," Armin says.

Two nodding chins serve as a reply. Distant, it's almost as if the two of them drift down river alongside the burning flame.

Mikasa squeezes both their hands tighter, and Armin returns it, holding fast to the little, makeshift family they've managed to stitch together in the ruins of disaster.

They watch until their raft fades from sight, unrecognizable from the other tiny lights so far away, they're like stars caught on the surface of the water.

And the child inside of him dreams of the flames floating down river, carried past the looming walls to the outside world, drifting along until maybe, just maybe they reach the ocean. The image of never-ending blue, thousands of flames reflecting off the glass of the water visits him. And Armin finds contentment in knowing that maybe, just maybe, his loved ones really did make it to the ocean after all.


As I said previously, Eremika will come into play in the later chapters (predominantly in the third and final one), I was so tempted to slip in a moment or two during this one, but taking in account canon timeline, it'd be out of place.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, and favoriting—any and all support means the world to me.

I'll be updating over the course of the next few weeks.