The old strings could never quite hold their tune.

It was an antique piano, dating from the time the Eldians were sent to Paradis. Hand-carved paneling and original ivory and ebony keys. Ribbed legs and brass knobs and scuffed foot pedals.

Sometimes Karma would close her eyes and envision herself playing a sleek concert grand, but that resounding vintage quality always cut through her fantasies. The creaking of the foot pedals and warble of the worn strings were as familiar as her own pink-cheeked reflection.

The bench groaned as she stretched toward the upper keys. She could imagine this tinkling melody playing from the spinning ballerina music box on the dusty end table. The yellow lamp shade beside it had dangling tassels that Granny Angie's naughtiest cat, Jean, liked to swat at. Jean was also the fattest of the dozen plus felines that roamed the one-bedroom home. The taupe-coated cat had just enough athleticism to hop onto the dining table to steal a mouthful of food, but otherwise was loath to do much more than nap and crap.

Twitchy-eared, diabetic Jean. Similar in name only to the war hero, who headlined the rubberband-rolled Marley Today on the artificial grass doormat. Black and white celebrity gossip disguised as news as per usual.

Our Titan War Heroes: the Loved and the Lost

June 1st, Adalia May

In New Marley Town Square under May's final blanket of stars, Jean Kirstein popped the highly anticipated question. To our delight, Mikasa Ackerman replied with the most emphatic, "Yes!"

It seemed the whole town was there to celebrate, though a notable guest has continued his streak of absence. Marley awaits, some in fear, some in anticipation, for the infamous Levi Ackerman to return to the public eye. How cold-hearted can an Eldian be to miss out on the engagement of two dear friends?

Apparently, very cold-hearted, according to an anonymous source who claims, "I only lasted two days. Since when is 'blinking too damn much' a fireable offense? I hear the record is two weeks, but that's only because he forgot about [them] while he left for a business trip. Fired [them] the second he got back. The man's impossible. We should count our lucky stars he doesn't leave Marble Estates."

While the business savvy veteran bachelor keeps to himself, speculations of an appearance stirred eight months ago, though reporters were not brave enough to investigate. If you do catch the disfigured founder of Ackerman Enterprises out and about, try not to run. He's scary on the outside, but, as far as we know, only kills Titans. You should be safe.

As for the beautiful Mikasa Ackerman and her magical proposal, Marley Today will have the inside scoop on all wedding updates—

"Hey! Knock if off, Jean." The fat taupe cat bearing Kirstein's mighty name nipped at Karma's ankles, determined to throw off her music, Granny Angie's preferred alarm clock. "Calm down. I'll feed you again at lunch time."

But Jean persisted and even resorted to using his claws.

Karma's song ended with a splattering chord that certainly woke the neighbors as well as Granny Angie. "You really think you're gonna get a treat now?" Karma glowered at Jean as she rubbed the scratch on her shin that was dotted with balls of blood.

The cat yawled.

"You are such a weirdo today. Fine, come here." She scooped him up, but he didn't settle in her lap like usual. He pawed the buttons of her blouse like a screen door. "The hell are you trying to tell me?"

Karma glanced around the dowdy home. There was nothing out of place in the clashing floral wallpaper and curtains. The porcelain cherubs on the dusty fireplace were naked as ever. The strolling cats seemed content. The potted plants dangling in macrame sacks had already been watered.

Then she spotted the round kitchen table. There were four paisley upholstered seats, the one closest to the bay window was Granny Angie's and Karma's was the one beside it. Before the seats were two plates of pancakes and eggs. They'd been steaming last Karma checked, but now they were still and cold. The squares of butter had long sunk to yellowy puddles.

Maybe she should have waited for the familiar click of the walker before pouring the milk. According to the clock with birds instead of numbers, she should have heard it a while ago. Karma felt her stomach sink to her sneakers.

Granny Angie wouldn't be coming to breakfast.

No amount of splattering chords could wake her now.

"I told you Granny Angie was gonna kick it any day. The woman was a big bag of sag."

Sage leaned her hip against the kitchen counter, watching Karma enter the apartment with a handful of jangling keys and an armful of cat.

"I knew it was coming, but just yesterday we were pruning her roses. Damn lock…" Karma gave up twisting the rusty bolt and dropped onto the sofa, the taupe cat pooling in her lap. She kicked off her too-tight sneakers. "But I'm fine. No mental trauma whatsoever. Thanks for asking."

"Come on. I know you've been eyeing that cat since day one. Why you singled out the diabetic one is beyond me."

"You don't think he's handsome? Look at that face." Karma squished Jean's already scrunched face and kissed his nose. He squirmed free with a hiss. "Just because I got the cat doesn't mean I'm thrilled that she died." A small paw swatted at the end of her blonde braid like his favorite dangling tassels. Karma watched with a shallow smile.

"Well I'm thrilled that she included her 'adopted granddaughter' in her will." Sage leaned her elbows on the counter, squishing the dragonfly tattoo in her cleavage. "So how much did she leave you? If Granny Angie's funding the fun, what kind of a weekend are we talking?"

"A normal weekend. I just got the cat."

"You gave that woman four years of your life and she leaves you nothing but a fat cat named Jean?"

"I didn't want anything else. Except maybe the piano."

"If you didn't get the hunk of junk, who did?"

"She left it to her 'granddaughter,' but the lawyer said that was a typo since she only has grandsons. I guess since it's a 'Tojo family heirloom' they got technical and gave it to the oldest grandkid."

"Eh, s'all good. Where would we put it in this crapshoot anyway?" Sage tossed a slender hand toward the chipped paint and yellow-stained baseboards.

Jean, bored of their banter, hopped off the sofa and scampered through the drape of dangling beads, disappearing in the hallway. Karma hoped the bathroom door was shut, or, at the very least, the toilet lid. She heard a splash.

Nope.

She pinched between her eyes. "He'll behave, I promise. He's just curious."

"A dangerous thing for a cat to be."

"I'll chip in extra for rent to make up for him, and I'll cover any damages."

Sage tossed her dark hair, bracelets clinking. "With what money? Your employer sort of just fired herself. Like, from existence."

A comment like that shouldn't have made Karma laugh, but Sage's outlandish personality had that effect. "It's alright. I have some savings."

"So you're not doing piano school anymore?"

"Of course I am. I'm signing up the second auditions open."

"You're telling me you can afford tuition at a New Marley college and extra rent?"

"Well, no."

"Then you need a job."

"I know, but job hunting's the last thing I want to think about right now."

"Lucky for you, I've got something in mind."

"As long as it's not caretaking, I'm in."

"I thought you liked taking care of sweet ole Granny Angie? She knitted you like thirty scarves."

"Of course I liked her, but, I mean, if Vinny's burned down today, would you go looking for another bartending job? Is that what you want to do your whole life?"

"Are you planning on committing arson?"

"Only if you asked me to."

"Psh, I guess I wouldn't. But bartending does have its perks. Just last night, I met a classy man who said he could get me an interview with an up-and-coming theater director."

"Seriously?!"

"Don't get too excited. Ended up being a bust." Sage plucked at her split ends.

"Oh, no. Was it another creep? What did he want?"

"Well. I found out 'up-and-coming' is a double entendre."

"Asshole." Karma tucked her feet on the cushion and leaned against the arm rest. "You're too gorgeous not to be famous. Your big break is any day now. There's a mansion in New Marley with your name on it."

Sage traced the butterfly on her wrist. "Are you sure you're done with caretaking? For good?"

Karma's brows puckered. "Yeah. What are you getting at?"

"I saw an ad for a caretaking position that just opened up. Granny Angie timed her bucket kicking perfectly—you could be working for a celebrity."

"If there's a gig involving a celebrity then why are you telling me? You should be the one applying."

"Oh, I'd be way in over my head. Fame isn't worth wiping asses or saggy ball sacks. Plus, they won't even let you interview without experience."

"Then fluff up your resume. Bartending is basically caretaking with all the shit and vomit. I think you're just making excuses."

Sage's red lips pursed. "Okay, fine. I'm terrified."

"Please, you're a million times braver than me."

"Yeah, on stage."

"Well unless it's Wickham Moriano, I'm not interested."

"Wickham Moriano is not a celebrity and we're not having this argument again."

"Agree to disagree."

"Okay, you're gonna flip. It's Levi freaking Ackerman."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious, Karms."

"I'm 90% sure he's not even real. The hell does he need a caretaker for?"

"He didn't exactly come out of the war unscathed. He's, like, super disfigured and crippled. Not exactly photogenic, so I can't prove it but I swear he's real."

"Hm." Karma paused. She scratched at a crusty splotch on the armrest. "Well it's not like you to get intimidated. Even by someone that famous."

"It's not just that." Sage's voice dropped as though the lauded Captain Levi was eavesdropping from the other side of Marley. "I hear he has one eye like a cyclops. And apparently, he went berserk during the war and bit off two of his own fingers. The man's a nutjob. But, I mean, what else do you expect from an Eldian?"

"So the last person quit and ran for their life? That's why the position's open?"

"No, the opposite."

"He fired them?"

"Yeah, for blinking. This Ackerman guy's picky—no caretaker lasts long. He goes through them like candy. So really, you wouldn't be working for the old fart long at all."

"You're saying that like I'm even considering it."

"You should consider it, Karms. Think of the connections he could have. I really think this is my chance."

"Sage, no. If you want connections that bad then grow a pair and face him yourself. I already told you, I'm done caretaking."

"Okay, okay. Forget caretaking, just do the interview. It'd be a chance to get out of this dump and explore New Marley. You could check out the MSA?"

"No."

"Fine, whatever. I'm just trying to help." Sage picked at her chipped black nail polish. Her heavily shadowed eyes flicked up. "You still need a job, though. Especially if you're gonna be paying for our new, furry little roommate."

"I'm aware." Karma picked at her own nail polish, pink and neat. "What about Vinny's? I can wait tables or mix drinks or mop. I'm very experienced with shit and vomit."

"Bar's pretty full." Sage tucked her hair behind a crescent moon of ear piercings. She tapped a jeweled finger against her lips and pretended to contemplate. "But I might be able to squeeze you in the schedule. If…"

"I already know where this is going." Karma tugged her braid as if it could plunge the annoyance from her head. "If what?"

"If you apply for the Ackerman gig and get me an autograph when you meet him. That's all."

"Just an autograph? What's the catch?"

"There's no catch. Since you refuse to help me get connections, this is the closest I might ever come to meeting a real celebrity. Plus, I could frame it and hang it in my room. You can't tell me that wouldn't look badass."

"Mmm, no you're just gonna sell it."

"Yeah, you're right. I bet it'd be worth a fat stack—especially if he signs with his three-fingered hand. Then we can finally have that fun weekend Granny Angie stinged on. Ooo, we could hit up one of those fancy-shmancy New Marley clubs."

"Fine. I'll do it. But I expect minimum wage and weekends off."

"Deal. Here, I copied the number." Sage pulled a crumpled napkin from her pocket and scampered around the counter. Digits were scrawled in blue.

"Okay, I'll call after I crash for a hot minute."

"No, do it now."

"It can wait. I really just wanna lay down."

"The position is gonna fill up fast."

"I think you're overestimating people's excitement to caretake a hardened war veteran who fires people for blinking."

"Karma," Sage said her name like she was missing something obvious. "It pays triple minimum wage."

"Holy crap, why didn't you lead with that? Where's the phone?"

"Huh. I thought you were 'done caretaking.'"

"I am. But, damn, that position's gonna fill fast." Karma snatched the phone off the receiver and punched the numbers. She drummed her fingers against the laminate counter as it rang. She wondered if she'd been too hasty. Maybe she should've rehearsed what she'd say or warmed up her voice to combat that nervous waver—

"Yelena, AE."

Too late to hope no one would pick up. Karma attempted her most professional voice, but it felt strange in her throat. "Hi, my name is Karma. I'm calling in response to an ad for the caretaker position. Are you still interviewing?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

That combination of words surprised Karma. She waited for a response, realizing too late that Yelena had been waiting as well.

"Well? What are your qualifications?"

"Oh, um. I've worked as a caretaker for four years. I also have job experience in music therapy and—"

"I'm sorry, but we are only accepting applicants with at least five years of caretaking experience. Unless you have a degree in nursing?"

"No, ma'am."

"Perhaps you could acquire a letter of recommendation from your dependent?"

"Um, that won't be possible. Granny Angie passed away." Today.

"I see. I apologize, Miss Karma, but from what you've told me, you simply don't qualify."

Sage was making a chopping motion with her hands in Karma's peripheral, urging her to be assertive.

"Best of luck—"

"Wait! Please. Just let me interview. I'll only need five minutes," Karma said. Sage wavered her hand in the air, rating Karma's assertiveness as so-so.

"I don't see how you plan to convince Mr. Ackerman to hire an unqualified caretaker in five minutes."

"I'll worry about the convincing."

"He's a very busy man—"

"You can't tell me he doesn't have five minutes to spare."

Yelena paused. "One moment."

There were a few breaths of dead air. Karma's lips wrinkled. Sage nibbled on her nail polish.

"He has a brief opening tomorrow at four. Do you have a pen for the address?"

"Thank you, yes! I have a pen."

"115 Marble Street, New Marley. Top Floor. Bring a resume."

Yelena punctuated her commands with the droning dial tone. Karma clicked the phone back onto the receiver. She and Sage exchanged gaping smiles.

"Holy shit! You're going to New Marley!"

"I'm going to New Marley!"

Jean mosied back into the living room and kneaded Karma's leg with wet paws. She hoisted him onto her hip and scratched his ears.

"You hear that, Jean? New freaking Marley! I'm gonna meet a celebrity."