"Armin," Eren quoted. "That's your name?"

No-Face nodded, smiled.

"Armin! That's great, that's—" Eren jerked at the call of his own name, or rather, the frustrated call of 'Human.' It was Hanji, her voice coming from at least a level above, no doubt wondering where the hell he'd gotten to. Eren winced. If he could hear her from here over the rain… she must really be screaming.

"I gotta go but hey, get out of the rain, yeah?" Eren grabbed the empty buckets, knocking one against the open door. "Kay? Kay. See ya!"

He charged off through the crowd—which was thinning now. He could hear the spirits in other rooms, greeting and tending to the customers. Eren went up one set of stairs, down the hall, up another set, through two doors to the right, and then—

Shit. Where the hell was the 'big tub'?

Eren wandered a little farther, the work corridors slowly easing into areas filled with baths, the customers all melting into their suds. Most seemed almost comatose, their limbs as relaxed as relaxed could be, but the employees themselves were pretty high-strung. Eren could understand that. He felt an identical tension in his shoulders and neck. It was something else though too. Over his heart, that little area Marco had pointed out where Eren could always and forever feel Irwin… No wonder everyone seemed tense. Despite having customers that looked liked they'd entered paradise anyone who'd entered Irwin's care was in their own, personal hell.

One particular guest caught his eye. Human-looking, long black hair, a muscled back that spoke of a life filled with hard work. He was sitting in a tub facing away from Eren and just a day before he probably would have spotted that back, that hair, the glasses he could now see perched on a nearby stool… and he would have assumed it was his dad. Irrationally. Desperately, if Eren was being completely honest, because wasn't this unexplainable scenario better than the truth? As it was, Eren knew exactly who and where his father was and he was able to pass by this stranger with an expression that resembled indifference. And yet… walking around and seeing this spirit's face, a face Eren didn't recognize, was both a disappointment and a relief. It probably always would be, at least until he actually got his dad back. But then there'd only be relief left, right?

"Evenin', sir."

All of this got harder when the guy actually spoke to him. Eren's hands tightened over the buckets but he paused and mustered up a smile. It was odd, hearing someone resembling his dad call him 'sir.' The odd image was enough to loosen the tightness around his limbs.

"Hey." Eren said back. "You… uh, happy with everything here?"

Shit. What exactly was he supposed to do if he wasn't? Luckily all the guy did was chuckle and lean further into the tub's lid.

"Sure am. Right as the rain outside, kiddie. Oh, but I shouldn't being goin' an saying that, huh?" The guy rolled his head, his long hair skimming the bath water and catching bubbles. He tried scooping water into his hands and scrubbing it away but the locks were too thick and the water he'd caught too shallow. "Been a long time comin' here, see. I've met em' all; the spirits looking like pixie brats who turn out to be old as farts, and vice versa o' course." He pronounced his 'v's like long 'w's, his 'r's rolled obscenely long. "How old you then, hmm?"

"A little over three thousand," Eren said, completely straight faced. He shrugged. "I've sorta lost count though."

The guy nodded. "Yeeeeah. I can see it; see it well. Right there," He rose up just enough to point a pruned finger at Eren's eyes. Too close, and Eren backed off a step. The guy hardly seemed to mind though. He kept nodding and though normally Eren would have assumed he was on something… his eyes seemed too clear. He moved lazily, but not like he was hindered, and every word rolled off his tongue with deliberate intensity.

"Can you really?" Eren asked. Then he cleared his throat. "I mean, see…?"

He wasn't entirely sure how to finish that question. See what? His age? Or something else? But the answer came quickly enough, the guy speaking with frightening assurance.

"Sure thing I can see it." He didn't clarify what 'it' was. "Mighty clear to anyone lookin' now isn' it. Why? Unhappy with how ou've lived?"

"… Maybe."

"Well don't be." The guy took another handful of water, most of it running through his fingers. "Better to 'ave seen too much than nothin' at all."

"You believe that?"

"Sure do."

Eren held up one bucket, then the other. He swung them a moment and then arched them through the air. Both landed with a 'plop' in the tub, bobbing.

"Here," he said. "Use those for your hair."

"Mighty thanks." The guy took a bucket and sloshed the water over his head, sighing when the suds were successfully washed away. He slid down again into a slouched position, this time propping his feet up on the other bucket. Eren startled a little when he saw that the skin between his toes was webbed.

"I'd better go," he said.

"Alrighty then. Good day to yer, sir. And don't go frowning so much! Everything 'ill turn out right."

"…If you say so."

"I do, I do."

"Right." Eren edged away. He wasn't quite so sure about this guy anymore. If all the guests were this weird it was going to be a very long night… Provided that Irwin ever decided to let it be day again. A set of bay windows showed the sky to be just as dark and threatening as when the storm had first started. Eren hoped that Armin had finally decided to come in.

"Hey, do you know the way to the 'big tub'?" He asked. The spirit was now using the bucket as a hat and it tilted threateningly as he nodded.

"Keep 'eading straight an straight an straight some 'ore. Then a left. Steeeeeeep left. It was named right; can't miss it."

"Great. Thanks."

"Thank, 'ou."

With a wave Eren jogged off, this time avoiding making eye contact with any other patrons. A number of them did call out to him, asking for food or extra towels, but there was always a toad nearby to pick up the slack. Eren couldn't help but fight a grin when a creature resembling a jellyfish wrapped its tentacles around her head, crying out that something stinks. Seemed that even with breakfast and a bath here he was still decidedly human.

The guy's directions were sound. Soon enough Eren rounded a left hand corner and skid to a stop, faced with what was, yes, an incredibly big tub. Larger than ten… maybe even fifteen of their regular tubs, certainly large enough to dominate the room they'd scrubbed earlier. And it was disgusting. The spirits here thought he smelled bad? Hypocrites. All of them. The entire bath was covered in brown sludge, turning a moldy black in some places, and there were literally patches of grass growing around the rim. Eren slapped hands over his mouth, more than tempted to flee, but before he could he heard echo-y grunts coming from inside and then Hanji's head poked out.

"There you are!" She cried. "What, thought you were just gonna leave me to do all the work, huh? You evil little boy."

"You could have told me where the tub was!"

"Oh yes, because it's so hard to miss. Humans." Hanji rolled her eyes, imbuing her insult with a wealth of affection that was just like her. "Give me a hand already will you? I'm dying here. Where are the buckets?"

"Uh…"

"Never mind. Here, take this." A scrubbing brush, far larger than the ones they'd used before, flew at Eren. Only dodging saved him from a serious concussion.

"We need to scrub it down, and rinse it, and scrub it again, and then get something to cover that smell…" Hanji was still draped over the tub's rim, looking utterly exhausted. Her face was planted pathetically in the crook of her arm but her right hand continued to scrub at a persistent patch of rot even as the rest of her body accepted defeat. It seemed that manic energy always needed an outlet, no matter the circumstances. It certainly wasn't a human trait.

"Hanji," Eren asked, edging closer. "Exactly what were you before you died?"

"Smiirffl," came the muffled reply.

"What?"

Her head shot up again. "Nothing! We don't have time for this. Do you want to scrub for the next ten years? No? I didn't think so. This tub hasn't been touched in decades. It would take a team weeks to whip this into shape and oh," she groaned. "We are so very, very done for…"

That was it, wasn't it? 'Orders from the top.' This wasn't just an awful task that Irwin had set them; it was also an impossible one. He wanted them—Eren—to fail. Maybe so he'd have reason to fire him, maybe just so he could gloat about it. But did it matter? If Irwin said 'you can't do this' then Eren knew for goddamn sure that he'd find a way to do it.

"Move it, Hanji."

She blinked as Eren climbed up the side, eventually extending a hand to help him. Upon reaching the lip Eren promptly went top heavy and slid headfirst into the tub with a startled shriek. He grimaced, gagged, and then swallowed his frustration, starting to scrub with hardly a pause. Hanji came down tentatively beside him.

"… Okay there, human boy?"

"We're done for, huh?" Eren wiped a hand over his brow, leaving a smear of rank grime. "Fuck it. Seriously, screw that, Hanji. Let's make this tube shine."

Hanji's grin was positively blinding. Honestly, who needed the sun with someone like her by their side?

"Yeah!" She cheered—and they set to work.

Determination can carry someone a very long way.

Eren didn't know how long they worked for—the sky was still pitch black and who even knew how long it would remain night this time—but it was long enough for his arms to ache and for his fingers to develop places where, if he kept this up, callouses would eventually grow. It wasn't an altogether repulsive idea. Yes, the potential to one up Irwin drove Eren for the first twenty minutes or so, but after that the passion had drained away and he settled into a mindset based on work for work's sake alone. There was something calming about being beside Hanji, odd as that may sound. She still fidgeted constantly and was entirely incapable of keeping at a single task for more than a minute, but when they did sweep together, or scrub together, or cart muck away with their steps in synch… Eren found himself smiling without really intending to.

"Mikasa and I used to do this," he said and Hanji paused. Then she picked up her brush again.

"Your sister?"

"Mm hmm."

"You and her cleaned out ancient, ridiculously large tubs together? That's seriously what you humans do in your free time? Right then. So why do you still suck at this?"

"C'mon, Hanji." Eren nudged her as she snickered into her shoulder. "We just… did stuff together, okay? Not like this, but… Cooking dinner or… I don't know. Exploring. We went on adventures a lot and I got into fights a lot and… we were just together. She didn't even like doing those things but she did it because then she was with me." Eren shrugged. He attacked the stained tile with new vigor.

"She should be here," he muttered.

Eren expected Hanji to make another joke, or maybe just agree with him as the Corporal had done. Instead, after she'd been silent about a minute—a shockingly long time—Eren turned and found her staring at him. Kneeling on the floor she dropped her brush and raised both hands self-deprecatingly.

"You've got me here." She said but Eren could hear the question there.

"I do." He agreed. "What?" He tried to grin. "You think I like doing all this?" Eren gestured to the massive amount of work still awaiting them.

Hanji was still staring though.

"It's your job," she insisted.

"Well yeah… maybe. But I'd do it anyway—"

"—if I asked you to?"

"Uh huh." Eren said. "Definitely."

"Well … Ditto."

Both of them smiled.

They kept working then, for longer and longer stretches, that camaraderie making even the worst tasks manageable. Sometimes other workers poked their heads in to laugh or a costumer asked for directions but mostly Eren and Hanji were left to themselves. Eren was just beginning to think that he wouldn't mind staying in this little bubble, at least for a while longer, when all hell broke loose.

"Hanji!"

Eren recognized the voice well before its owner reached him. Seconds later Marco skid into the room, his arm reaching out to support himself on the doorjamb. Behind him came Moblit, hopping desperately to keep up, along with a whole host of other spirits. Some laughed as the previous visitors had done, others just looked concerned. All of them were speaking loud enough to draw attention to whatever the situation was. Beyond the cubicle walls Eren could see the crowd growing.

With his arm now thrown over a stitch in his side Marco nodded at the tub.

"We're going to need that," he said.

"What?"

Moblit hopped to the front. "I didn't know!" He cried. His little hands twisted frightfully before him. "I didn't know, Hanji. Really! Irwin said to send you and the new guy to clean the big tub… and I assumed it was just busy work. We all did. But—but—but—"

"But now there's a customer on the way." Marco finished. "He's just passed the grasslands and is almost at the restaurants. Bertolt went down into the lower alleyways to clean and caught a glimpse of him—huge, Hanji. He's not gonna fit anywhere else." He looked at the tub expectantly.

"Are…" Hanji looked from Marco to the tub itself. They'd removed the things growing there but it was still a sickly grey color. That is, still disgusting.

"Are you insane?" She shouted. "Is he? We can't stick a customer in there. Why would he—?"

"You know why," Eren growled.

All eyes turned towards him. His fingers dug hard into the tile and Marco cast him a sympathetic look, one that said, 'I get it, it's okay, you're not to blame; you're not responsible,' but dammit, Eren felt responsible. More than that he felt mad, like he always did, like he always had, ever since he'd stepped into this fucked up nightmare of a bathhouse—only this time there was a very distinct response he could give. No more standing by, no more waiting. Hadn't he said only a while ago that he was gonna clean this tub; make it shine? Well he was. The fact that there was now a time limit meant nothing. Let Irwin throw his curve balls, he'd knock em' all out. Eren was gonna play and goddamn, he was gonna play hard. Let's just see who came out on top.

He only realized he'd said part of that, maybe even all of it out loud when the crowd of faces gapped up at him. Only Marco smiled. There was, however, one other voice.

"Then let's play."

Everyone whirled. There in the corner of the partition was Irwin, leaning lazily against the wall. He'd changed since Eren had last seen him. Now he wore a black collared shirt tucked primly into a pair of equally dark jeans, looking like any self-righteous asshole with too much time on his hands and twice as much money. His smirk was just the same though.

Slowly, obviously savoring the moment, he pushed off the wall and sauntered forward. The only other movement came from the middle of the crowd as Petra, Gunther, Erd, Mike, and Oluo made their way forward too. The settled into their customary stance: legs together, hands folded in front, creating a semi-circle around Irwin.

Eren could feel it. He thought at first that it was simply anger, maybe mixed with a whole lot of fear, but the closer Irwin got the tighter Eren's chest became. It was that thrumming, constricting his heart and spreading outwards through his limbs. Marco had been right. With Irwin up in his office it was an annoyance easily ignored but having him here, mere feet away, caused almost physical pain. Eren forced himself to cough through it even as Irwin waved a hand at their assembled guests.

"We wanted to know what all the fuss was about," he drawled. "Honestly, Shifter. You think I wanted your first day to be so hard? Admittedly I might have given you a formidable task," he gestured to the tub Eren stood in. The sludge beneath his bare feet was sticky cold. "Hard work builds character after all, but how was I to know there'd be a customer so soon?"

"You knew," Eren said. He kicked his legs out and slid down to the ground, absurdly grateful that he was able to land with something resembling grace. The crowd behind Irwin gave a collective, drawn-out gasp as Eren marched right up to his 'boss.' The fear was still there, pooling into his knees and making them shake but Eren stubbornly locked them tight. His contract was sealed after all, so what was Irwin going to do, really? He could break bones like he'd done to the spirits behind him, maybe even—Eren gulped—chuck him into the lake as he'd threated before, but ultimately all of that was physical; survivable. Irwin had his family. Honestly, there was nothing else he could take from him now.

"You knew." Eren repeated. "You fuck."

"Human," Hanji hissed. She too slipped to the ground and made to grab his arm but Eren shook her off. He was hyper aware of everyone staring at them: the nameless frogs casting frightened glances, Marco putting on a brave face, Petra, who kept risking quick glances at Eren. The four guys beside her were wound equally tight, though whether to flee or fight he couldn't be sure. Still, they were Corporal's men. Eren was willing to take a gamble based on that alone, if it came to it.

"Well," he pushed. "Am I lying?"

Irwin only smiled tightly.

"You have ten minutes, roughly speaking," he said, pointing to a pocket watch that had appeared in his hand. He whipped it through the air. "It should take about that long for our guest to arrive. Now, dear Shifter, I'm not a cruel employer." Oluo gave a bodily twitch at that and was quickly restrained by Gunther. "I'm well aware that this is quite the undertaking for a greenhorn, but you are… feisty. So I'll give you a choice. Keep your client and ensure that he, she, or it has the best care this bathhouse is capable of providing," Irwin looked pointedly at the filthy tub. "Or, you can pass the responsibility off to a more experienced worker. I must warn you though, I expect everyone to pull their weight around here and I can't guarantee that, should you prove lazy, there won't be… repercussions."

The pocket watch stopped and there, on the face, the numerals pooled together, reconfiguring into an image of Mom, Dad, and Mikasa. Hanji made a strangled sound beside him and even Eren rocked back on his feet. He hadn't seen them—actually seen them—in days and the unexpectedness of the picture was like a blow to his gut.

Maybe there were still things Irwin could take.

Still, what was Eren to do? He couldn't put his family in any more danger and he knew without a doubt that if he passed this off to someone else Irwin would find a way to have them all punished. No. He'd never risk it.

Besides, he'd already sworn. Irwin was going to regret underestimating him.

"I'll do it." Eren meant to say it loudly, with lots of strength and resolve, but it came out more like a squeak. Irwin's smile grew.

"You're sure?" He bent down closer. "You realize, of course, that the same conditions apply should you fail." Irwin swung the watch and Eren's family ticked back and forth before him. Seconds slipped by.

"I said I'd do it."

"If you're su—"

"But not alone."

Irwin froze and Eren fought a grin at having thrown him off guard. "The others are allowed to assist me," he announced.

Corporal may not have been with him but his words were. Make allies; make friends. Keep them close because you're going to need them, brat. Eren knew he couldn't actually accomplish this alone and Irwin knew it too. So he wouldn't, simply as that. So Eren glared fiercely up at the taller man, daring him deny him this in front of half his staff.

"Or," Eren said. "Are you really going to let a 'greenhorn' care for such an important customer by himself?" He shrugged. Greed was already flooding Irwin's eyes and fighting with his anger. "You might lose his business entirely…"

"Oh very well," Irwin snapped, then seemed to realize that he was showing too much to too many. He settled again, waving a hand magnanimously for Eren to get to it. With a step backwards he was flying upwards, everyone gaping as he landed on one of the balcony's railings, a king overlooking his subjects. Once settled he clicked his fingers and Petra and the others came running—literally. They hoofed it up the four flights to again stand at Irwin's side. Only when they were in place did every spirit turn to regard Eren.

Every. Last. One.

His breath caught up high in his throat. Great. Now what?