Ah, he's gone.
Rivaille should have seen it coming. Something so weak and small and harmless couldn't of have made it far. He's surprised at how far Eren's already come.
The corporal sighs lightly and counts the corpses.
(onetwothreefourfivesix)
...
(seveneightnineteneleventwelve)
...
(seventyoneseventytwoseventythree)
...
(ninetynineonehundred)
A hundred bodies lifeless. A hundred hopes and dreams crushed. One hundred.
He notices the brown hair. Oh, how he would've given anything in this moment to have avoided it instead.
Eren Yeager, the boy who dreamt. Eren Yeager, the boy who died.
Today, Corporal Rivaille Heichou takes the hundred dead men from the one hundred-one dead bodies, from Eren, so that one could be one.
So that, maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can remember.