Mouth hanging open, it suddenly hit Eren that every building here fell into a theme.

Mikasa nodded. She had a habit of reading his thoughts.

"They're all restaurants," she murmured.

"But why?"

She shrugged, her own eyes rising to the signs. One settled for a moment, fighting against the wind, and Eren was finally able to read the word "Dumplings" on it in curvy writing. For some reason the fact that he'd been right didn't make him very happy. He nudged Mikasa.

"What's the word when things happen together that maybe don't really have a reason for happening together?" he asked.

"Coincidence."

"Yeah, that. It's a coincidence."

"Maybe." But Mikasa didn't sound very convinced.

"Kids!" Grisha waved with a drumstick. Eren was startled to find that he already had two plates filled. When had they sat down? His Mom was eating at a more sedate pace but even her one plate was overflowing. He'd never seen her take so much before. Eat what you have first; you can always go back for seconds. That was the rule in their house. Unbidden, Eren felt his cheeks heating with anger as his Mother sloshed a bit of meat into a jar of mustard. A small fleck landed on her blouse.

"You're going to choke!" he yelled.

Adding insult to injury, his father laughed. Something that looked too much like a bone flew out of his mouth and landed beyond the counter. "Well if she does choke luckily there's a doctor here to save her."

"Don't be like that, Grisha," Kalura scolded. Her voice was barely recognizable, stuffed as it was with food. "Sit down, Eren. It's out first lunch in our new home after all."

"This isn't home."

"Eren." His father's own voice was muffled with some sort of chicken, but the authority behind it was familiar.

"You shouldn't even be eating that!" He tried, and it was probably true. There was no one to wait on them or provide them with a bill. In fact, Eren hadn't seen anyone else since they'd set foot in this park. The isolation now felt threatening rather than exciting and Mikasa seemed to think the same because her hand found his again. It wasn't the easy hold they maintained daily either. Her muscles tightened against his, like they did when they were near water.

"This is wrong." Eren tried again. "You can't just take food, Dad. That's stealing!"

"We can pay later. That's what credit cards are for. What's gotten into you, Eren? Listen to your mother and come over here."

The word 'no' was nearly out before Eren bit down on it—hard. Honestly, he didn't know what had gotten into him. The food still smelled wonderful: meat and hot soup and the sweet bread he'd only ever been given on special occasions. There was a whole tray of steaks sitting untouched further down the counter and no one, certainly not Eren, would try to argue that he didn't like steak. But every time he went to step forward he saw his parents gobbling more food. He wondered how they could breathe. He wondered if he were to sit down, if there would even be any food left for him to eat. Though in truth, the endless platters answered that question pretty easily.

"The servings," Mikasa began. The words hissed out between her teeth. "They're not getting any small—"

"Honey!" Kalura interrupted. "Look. You were right." She waved a caramel apple triumphantly in the air, pausing only the briefest moment before taking a big bite. Eren thought she'd go back to her lunch but she snatched another one up just as quick, beckoning to Mikasa.

"Mikasa, don't—"

But if there was one person Mikasa adored more than Eren, it was her adoptive mother. Casting an apologetic look back she shuffled forward, obediently taking the apple in hand. Under Kalura's insistent encouragement Mikasa took the smallest of bites. The caramel dripped golden onto her chin.

"Fine!" Irrationally angry, Eren turned away. Raising his head he spotted smoke billowing above their heads, dark against the blue sky—the perfect excuse. "I'm going to see what that is. Don't bother waiting up."

He ran, sneakers pounding hard against the cobblestones. Eren didn't care if his family—even Mikasa—wanted to stuff their faces instead of listening to him. They weren't worth looking back at. Though if he had, Eren might have noticed Mikasa's eyes widening with a strange reverence and her mouth opening for a second bite.

He followed the lanterns down past restaurant after restaurant, the street beginning to slope beneath him. Eren took the steps three at a time and only growled a bit when he lost his balanced, skinning his palms. He got up again and ran faster, nearly locking his knees with the length of his strides. Following the smoke Eren rounded a corner and jumped a broken cobblestone, adding a burst of speed when the black clouds began to cover the sky, now just a slit above him as he took a detour between two buildings. A left, two more rights, and then finally—

"… oh."

It was a bathhouse.

Eren stopped so suddenly he nearly fell forward again but he grabbed the railing of a huge bridge at the last second, a splinter working its way into his thumb. Picking at it, he tipped his head all the way back and sucked in an impressed breath.

The bathhouse was huge. It was definitely larger than any of the other buildings around and all at once, in a flood that sent his skin tingling, Eren's anger was replaced with excitement. This place was awesome. Fantastic even! He'd run back and grab Mikasa, drag her away if he had to, because this was five million, billion times better than whatever she was doing. Mom would love the architecture of the place, Eren was sure, and maybe Dad could pay for the food they'd eaten here. Surely the smoke meant people, right?

Grinning, Eren launched himself at a side gate, peeking below. With a disappointed huff he found only a grassy plane but, beyond that, and out far from the bathhouse itself, was that forest. Eren had noticed the trees when they'd first arrived but now, a little closer, he could see that they were far larger than he'd originally thought. Darkness edged between the limbs and Eren itched to go exploring. Though Dad would kill him if he wandered off too far, so… awesome bathhouse first.

Eren turned with the intention of starting another sprint. However, there was the little problem of another boy blocking his path.

At least, Eren thought he was a boy.

He was short enough. Eren himself hadn't exactly hit his final growth spurt but this guy only came up to his nose. Still, there was something poised about him. Like he never got dirty in the backyard… or went falling down a flight of stairs. Eren glanced down at his red palms. Compared to his own scruffy appearance this guy was immaculate, dressed in a white tunic, blue pants, and—weird—some sort of fancy napkin thing around his neck. He definitely didn't stand like a kid either and his eyes were fiercely narrowed. At first Eren thought it just made him look sleepy but after a second he decided there was more intimidation there than anything else. Even his haircut was severe—bowled in the front and shaved at the back. Giving the guy another once over Eren's eyes widened. Okay, wow. That wasn't just a sash around his waist. He was carrying swords.

It was also pretty unnerving that, you know, Eren was sure this guy hadn't been on the bridge a second ago.

"Uh… hey. I'm—"

"What are you doing here?" The guy's voice was a monotone but Eren jumped all the same. He trampled the impulse to pull a clumsy salute, the kind with his arm across his heart like Hannes had taught him. Whoever this guy was, he was used to being obeyed.

Before Eren could decide whether to salute or grovel or throw a punch of his own, the guy caught him around the midsection and started dragging them both back towards the shops. Eren dug his sneakers between the boards but it was no use. This guy was strong too.

"What are you doing!" He flailed, only succeeding in jabbing the handle of a sword between his ribs. Eren let out a frustrated cough. "Bastard!"

"Well, well. Big word for a shitty brat."

"I'm taller than you!"

"Not for long. Want me to cut you off below the knees?"

Eren froze, again hearing the clink of those swords. The guy tossed him and Eren went rolling back onto the dirt, lying between the boards of the bridge and the cobblestones of the streets. He looked up just in time to see the guy wiping his hand on a bit of cloth, mouth fixing into a grimace.

"Disgusting." He muttered. "For fuck's sake. Go home and take a bath."

"Hey, I'm not—" but whatever defense Eren was about to give was lost when the short guy stiffened, looking for all the world like Eren must have when he thought he was about to be sliced like a well-caught fish. That was more than enough to shut him up.

"It's almost night," the guy said. Eren sat up.

"What are you talking about? It's lunch!"

Shorty whirled on him, causing Eren to scramble back.

"You think that matters here, brat? It's night when he says it's night and he—ah fuck." They both turned toward the bathhouse. Eren's eyes widened. Sure enough, the sky was darkening at a rapid pace and little pinpricks of light were starting to appear. "They're lighting the lamps. You need to leave, brat. Now."

"But…"

"Now!" The guy lengthened his stance, drawing both swords out with a hiss of metal against cloth. Eren gapped at them. He'd never seen a sword in real life, let alone two, let alone a pair that was so weird. They weren't pointed at the ends like he'd have expected. They just cut off at about four feet, leaving the tops as square as the rest of the blade. They still looked wicked sharp though. Swallowing hard, Eren watched as an edge glinted in the dying light. Who was this guy?

"—gonna skin my hide for this." The guy was saying, presumably to himself. "I can try to hold them off though, at least for a little while and… fucking hell are you still here? Move, kid!"

That was all Eren needed. He dug his hands into the dirt and pulled himself up. Kicking up more dust he pumped his way back towards the restaurants.

There had been something about the way the guy had said that word: kid. Not like how his parents said it or even how Mikasa sometimes called him silly. It was faith without the tenderness. If Eren had been unconvinced that this guy wasn't as young as he looked… not anymore. No one said "kid" like that unless they really were older. A lot older. And no one said "run" in that voice unless they were overprotective like his mom… or there really was something to run from. Eren didn't think this stranger loved him after five seconds of threats and insults so… yeah, he was running.

Eren was running so fast, in fact, that it took him a while to notice the ghosts. At least, "ghost" seemed like the best word available. What else did you call something you could run through?

With a shout he wasn't at all ashamed of releasing Eren tumbled through the… ghost. Thing. It wasn't entirely see-through and for a moment his world went black as an oil spill. It was cold too, just like what they described in the movies. Or maybe that was the entire park because Eren didn't feel any warmer when he'd managed to skitter away.

It was pitch black now—night.

"Mom!" Eren shouted. He drew in great lungful's of air. "Mommy! Mikasa!"

All the lanterns were lit now but their light cast an eerie glow. The streets looked too much alike. Eren wasn't sure he was heading in the right direction and the ghosts were multiplying by the second. They crowded around him, a black oozy barrier, though luckily they floated by leisurely, allowing Eren to dodge. Eyes like dinner plates he noticed that most were seated at the restaurants' counters and the rest were heading towards spots of their own. Eren balled his hands into fists.

"This is so stupid!" he screamed. "Ghosts don't eat! You're stupid, stupid, stupid and I want my mommy! Daddy!"

He was preparing for another scream, tears starting to leak down his cheeks, when Eren noticed a sign reading, "Dumplings." That was it. The tears really did start then because that was it. He knew that sign, and his family was right—

There.

Skidding to a stop Eren let out a strangled whimper. "Mommy?"

That wasn't his mommy though.

The restaurant had been demolished, as had the two on either side of it. Amidst the rubble were three creatures so tall they towered over the remaining buildings. Loose limbed and entirely naked, their hands were the size of tractors and their mouths were twice the size of their hands. Eren watched, horrified, as they continued to dig through the debris, tossing food and wood alike down their throats. He didn't see them chew, only snap their teeth shut with sickening cracks. Their feeding was almost mechanical in its repetition, mindless. Eren didn't know how long he stood there, watching them devour everything nearby, but when he finally breathed again his chest burned from lack of air.

It was then that Eren started noticing the similarities. One creature, larger than the other two, was scooping waste into his mouth with both hands. As he did colorful things too high up for Eren to identify got stuck in its beard; a beard that looked remarkably like the one his father sported. "Maturity," he'd said to Eren, years ago. "I look older with a beard, son, and people are more willing to trust a doctor with more candles on his cake. You like it?" He hadn't. His dad's hair was thin and the 'beard' hardly covered his upper lip. Now though… now it had really filled out.

Feeling his hands beginning to shake Eren turned to the monster beside the one that looked like his father. It was the smallest of the three and there was absolutely nothing similar there: a squat body, pointed teeth, eyes swirling wildly, greasy hair sticking to its cheeks. Except that, looking closer, Eren saw a scrap of something caught in that hair. He told himself that it didn't resemble a bit of shredded red scarf.

"Mikasa?" he asked.

The tiny monster didn't turn but the third one did. Thinner than the other two it had his mother's hair, a straight cut that landed just at its chin. For a split, insane second Eren thought to himself, 'Yes. This is my mother,' and then the thing smiled at him. It was a grin that spread across the entirety of its face, pinching its cheeks and showcasing far too many teeth. With a strange grunt the thing sank to its knees and reached out a hand towards Eren.

He ran.

Eren sprinted, even faster than the first, second, or third times before. He had a straight shot back to the car and he took it, all the while maintaining a steady litany under his breath:

"That's not Mommy. That's not Mommy. That's not Mikasa. Or Daddy. Not Mommy, not Mommy, it's a dream. Only a dream. Just a stupid, fucking—"

Eren rarely cursed. His mother—his real mother—would never allow it, though that didn't mean Hannes hadn't taught him a thing or two. This time it wasn't even a conscious decision. The word was pulled from him with a gasp as Eren's shoes met not the hard bed of rocks he was expecting, but water. Bewildered and half blinded by tears he finally looked up from the ground, eyes trained on his sneakers so he wouldn't have to see more monsters or ghosts or anything else. His shoes were soaked. The Velcro was already coming loose. That made sense though, as much as anything else did. For the dried up river wasn't quite so dry anymore. It had also gotten a whole hell of a lot bigger.

"I'm dreaming," Eren insisted. His hands came up to fist into his hair. "I'm definitely, definitely dreaming."

But even as he said it a part of Eren—the part that had him admitting to broken pots and stolen cookies before they'd even been noticed—knew that this was definitely something, just not a dream. He knew because if it was he'd have swum away. You could do that in dreams. Crazy things like dive into a river that hadn't been there minutes before, during a night that had come in the middle of the day, and somehow make it to shore with just a child's strength. And surely, whatever lay ahead was better than what was behind, right? Yet Eren couldn't move. Dumbly, he felt himself sinking down onto the grass. He looked out on the water and all he could see was Mikasa's body, thumping against a boat that shone amidst a storm. Eren wouldn't go into that water, he couldn't, and that knowledge made his situation all too real.

"I'm dreaming," he said and knew it to be a lie.

Crouching to the ground Eren ducked his head between his knees, still desperate to find a simple, logical way out of this. Squeezing his eyes shut didn't work. Nor did (again and again) acknowledging that it was (not) a dream. Then, when Eren went to pinch his arm… he found that it was steaming.

With a cry he rolled backwards, waving his arm frantically in the air. It was literally steaming, thick clouds pouring off his skin at a rapid rate. Acting on instinct Eren flung himself on his stomach again, crawled towards the water, and dunked him arm into its depths. He didn't feel anything other than the cold of the river but his arm let out a sound, a hiss like when Mikasa dropped hot oil onto a pan. Despite that—and logic—steam still poured off of Eren even under the water. Tentatively he drew his arm back out. It didn't hurt, but when he moved to pass a hand through the steam he drew back with a hiss of his own. It was hot. Really hot.

Maybe Eren could have dealt with a steaming arm even on top of everything else, but then his leg started too. It was a tiny curl of white near his sock… that was steadily growing bigger. Sensing something behind him Eren stretched and thought that some might be coming from his back too.

"Stop it!" He demanded, though of course it didn't listen.

Eren had been so wrapped up in his own dilemma that he hardly noticed what was going on around him. He jumped when a loud 'bang' sounded from behind—the sound of wood on hard earth. Eren was only aware that his mouth was hanging open when a gnat brushed against his tongue. Spluttering, Eren took in the ferry that had shown up a little ways down the bank. It wasn't its existence he found so shocking, nor even its sudden (impossible) appearance. No, it was that there were more ghosts aboard, pouring out onto the grass. Dressed in a variety of robes and masks, Eren thought with a helpless giggle that at least this lot had better fashion sense. He also thought that this would be another appropriate time to curse.

"Forget this," Eren said and turned in the opposite direction. Wet, steaming, and crying in fear, Eren ran one more time and charged up the grassy slope behind him.