Chapter One: Au Revoir, Old Trost Theater
It was the night of the last performance before the two managers of the Trost Theater were to retire when the rumor broke out. It came from one of the scene shifters, told by them to one of the chorus dancers, then to the lead soprano singer, Hitch Dreyse, who with a shriek of fright, told dance captain, Marco Bodt about the frightful description. As Marco listened on, a hint of realization spread across his face. "Of course, Ms. Dreyse. That's exactly what I've told every person who has ever set foot into this fine theater! I just knew it!" he blurted. The soprano rolled her eyes in sheer disgust of the dancer's fantastical state of mind "I only heard from one of the dancers that a gypsy ghost kid had been spotted in and around the back entrance to the theater. I could have expected whoever that was to be the one pulling all those dumb pranks during shows, but spooks aren't real and neither are your dumb childhood epiphanies of them."
"Well if you stick your tone deaf ears into the walls, then you might just believe, for once." Stated the dance captain, putting his head against the wall of the dressing room, carefully listening to what sounded like an old pump-organ coming from above. "Why, I can hear it now. Music from the heavens. It must be the theater ghost! Come here, Ms. Dreyse, and you may listen for yourself..." As Marco was about to add another fact of truth to the theory, Hitch began to mirror his movements against the concrete "I do not hear it, so you must be wrong." she bluntly replied, then up and leaving to go say her goodbyes to the old managers. "Adios, you dimwitted, untalented ballerina." she added. "Besides, why should I ever listen to you. You're the one who got me replaced with that dumb Aryan countertenor, earlier today, you know."
It was at this point that Marco decided to explain to his fellow colleague formerly in the chorus and best friend, Armin Arlert, the most talented male singer in the theater, about the ghost. The brunette raced out of the dressing room, forgetting that he wasn't wearing a shirt, to backstage, where Armin had been standing. "Armin, you're never going to believe this!" the dancer almost yelled. "Hush! Hitch Dreyse is giving her speech, and you can probably be heard by the audience if you keep screaming like that." The blond scolded his friend in a slightly muted tone. "Also, why are you without a top? That is improper dress code of the Trost Theater. Come speak to me when we have the time and you are wearing decent clothing."
As Marco darted back to the dressing room to put his casual button-up on, Armin was called to the stage to introduce the new managers. Almost simultaneously, as the countertenor began to step into the limelight once more, a yowl came from Hitch on the opposite end of the stage; from above, a piece of one of the backdrops fell from what was thought to be its tightly secured place, out of the audience's view, and onto the poor soprano. A long sob came from her mouth when one of the scene shifters decided to help her up. As soon as she regained her balance, Hitch ran off of the stage in a panicked, humiliated, flurry.
Armin sighed nervously and shakily introduced the new managers of the Trost Theater. "Ladies and gentlemen, of our most grateful audience, I would be the most proud to introduce the two fine gentlemen who shall be running our theater from now on. Though it is such a pity to see our former managers retire, the whole cast and I are so fortunate to be blessed with such fine new bosses now. Without further a due, may I welcome Mr. Erwin Smith, and Mr. Levi Ackerman to center-stage please?" The two men, one a burly tall blond man, and the other a slender brunette, with an almost permanently pessimistic expression on his face, and lacking the usual height of a man his age, both casually strolled on to the stage, waving to audience members.
Before the royally clad singer could continue, a note was passed to him. Upon reading it out loud, a stutter approached his speech "It appears there is a special guest, too. He will also be helping with our new and improved theater, by making donations from his family's wealth. This fine gentleman is E-Eren... Jaeger?" Tears began to form at the corners of his round baby-blue eyes. Eren Jaeger, the best kid a doctor could have- the best friend a kid could have- the child who was heartbroken when his best friend was forced to move after the sudden death of his grandfather. "Eren?" Armin called once more.
"Armin!" A voice replied from offstage. Then, the aristocrat dressed in the finest of suits, appeared. When first spotting him, the singer almost yelped in surprise. In the short period of a few years, Eren had matured gracefully, and his appearance was sharper than Armin remembered. "Look at you, you've grown up fine." the brunette burst, full of merriment and joy, almost proceeding to pick Armin up by his waist, but stopping himself, with just an embrace-full hug. "Eren, I thought that I would never see you again." The blond sobbed into his shoulder. "Well, I thought I'd find you somewhere in the show business, eventually. Your grandfather, may God bless his musical soul, was a great composer, and you shall follow in similar footsteps as a great singer." He whispered quickly before pressing on with his appearance.
Eren turned to the audience and spoke in a suddenly more serious tone "I plan to make sure that not only the cast's conditions are adequate at this theater, but that every viewer in the house is pleased with all that we have to offer. My father left the money he made as a doctor to me, and I plan to use it wisely." He announced, then turning back to Armin. "I shall talk to you as soon as I can, after I speak with Mr. Ackerman and Mr. Smith."
"Alright, Eren. When should that be?'
"In maybe a few hours. I'll be right by your side, then." Eren replied, crossing over to backstage. The blond turned in the opposite direction, and left the stage, so that another cast member could make their speech.