Curtainfall

by Slalem

What awaited Eren Yeager at the end was not hell, but a world without Eldia, Marley, and The Rumbling. Eren is given a chance to start over—not as a Devil, but as a simple man. Freed from his duty, but not the weight of his actions, Eren must learn to navigate a strange land filled with even stranger people. Starting with the starry-eyed mother next door calling herself an "idol".

2. The Devil

Eren Yeager felt himself waking up. He was immediately put off by the realization, because he should have been dead.

Thoughts and sensations loosely registered, one after another. Touch, against a cold surface beneath him; smell, of something rancid and filthy. Both were soon replaced by an encompassing aching throughout his body. Not quite sore, but a tension akin to his nerves being shot. Like his body hadn't physically loosened itself in months.

Sight was the last to fully return to him, his eyes slowly opening. For a moment he feared he was blind, before his eyes adjusted to the light. Or lack of it, anyway—it was nighttime. What little sky he did see was framed by the row of buildings surrounding him on both sides.

He could hear... something. People, no doubt, but more than that. An intermittent blaring, a faint buzzing. A cacophony of sound he had only ever heard in cities. But even Paradis' Underground and Marley's many populated cities paled in comparison to the foreign sounds he couldn't place. Assaulting him from his unmovable spot, surrounded by filth and buildings in a land he could not immediately place.

Was this hell? It had to be. Where else would he have gone? It came flooding back to him now, the memories that remained. The Paths, the Rumbling, all of the death and carnage that had followed. And at the end of it all, his friends and enemies alike had come for him, united, and slain him.

It had been Mikasa who had done it. She had killed him, cutting his head clean off. He'd felt no pain. It was as sudden and painless a death as he could have imagined. Far too good for the likes of him. For that brief moment, he'd been weightless, unburdened by the duty he'd bound himself to and the consequences that had plagued him.

At long last, he'd been free.

The blaring continued. He could now fully hear the sound of his own breathing, and the feeling of his chest rising and falling in rhythm. His mouth was dry, and the aching intensified. On the off chance this wasn't hell, he needed to find water. And that required getting up from wherever he was.

It was an ordeal to will himself up, the throbbing in his body prompting a grimace as he did so. He was in an alleyway, but that much he could already guess. The stench came from a collection of waste some paces away, filled to the brim with garbage. As far as he could tell, he was alone.

He could vaguely see people bustling about from the street ahead, despite the evening. Most were in business attire, from what he could make out, but in a style that was unfamiliar. Then again, wider instances of formal clothing had been a mystery to him up until his first excursion to Marley with the Survey Corps. His own clothes were the very same he'd been wearing right before commencing the Rumbling; his plain shirt, jacket, and pants. He was bereft of any shoes. Physically, he felt the same, and if he had a mirror on hand he imagined he'd see his hair lingering just above his shoulders and his eyes a familiar green.

Something flashed across his vision, in the direction of the street, too quickly for him to catch clearly. He needed to get up, despite how desperately his body yearned to lay forever. Eren wouldn't delude himself into believing he deserved any kind of reprieve, after everything he'd done, but the desire to finally allow his body and soul to rest was powerful. Even if it meant wallowing in remembrance of everything that had led him to this moment, it would have been a merciful moment in which he wasn't fighting.

But he couldn't entertain that thought, even if he wanted to. Even after death, he had to keep moving forward. As he always had.

It was even more of a struggle to get to his feet, his legs straining as if they hadn't been used in weeks. Using the wall to steady himself, he managed a few tentative first steps before a wave of nausea assaulted him, forcing him to double over and promptly vomit. He remained hunched over for a time, heaving in desperate gulps of air as he wiped the bile and spittle from his lips, before he eventually found the strength to stand once more.

Eren hobbled from the alley and could immediately tell he was in unknown territory. The streets were not made of dirt, or even stone, from the looks of it. Lamps lined the streets, providing light, but designed in a manner he'd never seen before. The buildings themselves were taller, more imposing. Some, from what he could spy in the distance, almost looked entirely made of glass.

Another flash within his line of sight. It was an automobile, Eren deduced—Hange had called it a car. Those were a Marleyan luxury, used only by the rich for leisure, or the military for transporting soldiers or supplies. But then, these cars looked nothing like the ones Marley manufactured—and there were much, much more of them than there were in Marley.

People continued to pass him by, either failing to notice him in the alleyway or actively choosing not to. Their voices were low, measured, easily drowned out every time a car flashed in front of him. Some who passed conversed with each other, but others seemed to be conversing with themselves. Upon further inspection, Eren saw one talking into what looked like a handheld radio of some variety.

A third flicker of light, from above him. Eren tensed at the source, crouching into a defensive position until he saw what it was. A massive outpost, mounted in line with the buildings—only, in the place of a manned sentry, a massive glowing sign loomed, scribbled in a written language Eren had never seen before. Light seemed to be emanating from it, through some means he was unaware of. He stared at it, undecipherable as it was, before flinching again when the sign suddenly disappeared, replaced by another in the same space. A smiling, unmoving woman, holding another strange item, surrounded by a similar foreign text.

What manner of technology was this? Some advanced method of communication, or something else? It far exceeded any technology either Marley or Paradis possessed. And seeing as no one else was alarmed by the abundance of cars or the massive buildings or the shifting false outpost, it seemed whatever he was witnessing was commonplace.

Eren Yeager was not dead. Rather, he was lost. In an unfamiliar land, with no recollection of how he had ever arrived.

He needed to move. Keep his head down, assess his next steps, get his bearings about him. Ideally, learn as much as he could about where he was exactly—for all that he had become, he was still a tenured scout. He stepped forward aimlessly, briefly forgetting that he was on unsteady legs. He fell forward, though once again, passersby pointedly ignored him.

When he returned to his feet again, he noticed a different pain. Not as all-encompassing as his present aching, though certainly sharper. A quick glance revealed his hand had scuffed against the sidewalk, scraped mostly, with a lone trickle of blood escaping.

The scrape lingered, and he continued to watch it curiously. It was only after what felt like a small eternity that he noticed no steam rising from his hand, and that the scrape wasn't healing itself.

---

This wasn't hell. At least, any version of hell that he was familiar with.

There were no flames scorching him, no endless torture being inflicted upon his body and mind. His earlier fall confirmed that he was very much alive, filled with living blood and capable of regular living pains. He breathed and moved as he normally would. As if the worst that had happened to him was a persisting soreness.

More than that, however, he lived as a mortal man. Not as a wielder of one of the Nine.

His fall had also confirmed that he'd relinquished the power of any and all titans he had formerly possessed. The Founder, the Warhammer, and even his original Attack Titan. He had freed Eldians from the power of Titans, but he wondered truly if he had managed to free himself. He had not assumed ever calling upon the power again; but then, he had not assumed himself to still be alive after he was slain.

To be absolutely certain, he had tested the theory. Concerned as he was for potentially releasing the full weight of his Founding Titan in a presently unknown land, he convinced himself that it was long past the time to start considering the casualties of his actions. And so, he'd bitten his hand, waiting for the familiar transformation to manifest. And when none came, all he was left with was a bleeding bite mark that would not heal on its own.

He'd managed to stumble upon a patch of land not occupied by a massive building, though it was the construction site of what would doubtlessly become one. Still, it was currently abandoned and out of the way, leaving Eren to slip beneath some odd, flimsy barriers and hide himself within. A small portion of his sleeve had become an impromptu wrap for his hand once he'd sat down, leaving him once again with his own thoughts.

His wandering had revealed little. The language he gathered from the people he listened to along the sidewalks was obviously unlike any he'd previously come across. Vaguely, the people physically resembled those of the Azumabito Clan, which called into question if he had found himself dropped into Hizuru, but the notion was quickly discarded. Innovative as the Azumabitos and Hizuru were, he doubted they could have ever kept technology such as this hidden from the rest of the world. And even if they somehow had progressed their technology in such a way, it would have made their attempt at allying with Paradis for their resources a waste of time. With the technology he'd seen—massive infrastructure and mass automobile production and advanced information systems—any resources Paradis had would have been useless in comparison, or if it wasn't, they would have simply invaded them for it, rather than go through the trouble of negotiating a deal. With what he'd seen so far, it wouldn't have even been a challenge.

No, this land wasn't on any map. That much, Eren was sure of.

His best lead had come from a newspaper he had found among an entire stack, compiled in front of what looked to be a storefront. If there had been any qualms about him taking one for free, he had not been harassed for it. While he couldn't understand any of it, the pictures provided showed no indication or mention of the Rumbling. He'd briefly considered that he'd been "revived" in the immediate beginning of the Rumbling's initial trek across the world, and that any papers in the land he was currently in had yet to publish anything of the impending flattening, but then there seemed to be no mention of Paradis or Eldians either. And perhaps more than anything, the people went about their business as though they weren't in imminent danger of being crushed beneath the feet of titans, or invaded by island devils.

It was a distressing conclusion to arrive at, but he had no other explanation. He wasn't in a foreign land. No, Eren had found himself in an entirely foreign world. A reality separate from Paradis, Marley, and everything he had ever known.

But then, how? And why? There'd been no vision of this in Grisha's memories. Perhaps something linked to the Coordinate, or the will of the Founder Ymir had led him here. But the Paths were only that which connected all Eldians—what power did they have in forcibly moving anyone anywhere, much less across different realities? And with the Founder only just liberated from royal influence, what aim would Ymir have in bringing him here? Did either the Coordinate or Ymir still exist, or even exert influence over him?

Eren growled, taking a breath and releasing his thoughts. Far too many questions, far too much thinking, and that was without beginning to ask why he was still alive in the first place.

He realized the sounds of footsteps too late. A beam of light assaulted his eyes, making him flinch backwards. Quickly adjusting, the source of light pointed out of what he could only compare to a miniature spotlight. The man holding it looked to be an authority officer of some kind—adjacent to Paradis' Military Police, or Marley's Public Authority.

The stranger spoke in his native tongue, obviously wary but restraining himself. For now. Eren remained alert, slowly rising to his feet as he kept his hands in plain view. He briefly considered utilizing the Attack Titan, before remembering that he no longer wielded that power. Or any power.

The officer spoke again, his foreign words repeated. Likely asking who he was, or what he was doing. Eren's gaze fell to the man's waist, where he saw the officer's hand hovering over a gun tucked within. A pistol, from the look of it. Despite its somewhat familiar shape and appearance (though still a far cry from the typical Paradis engineering he was accustomed to), he wouldn't chance engaging with anyone in unknown territory, wielding unknown firepower. Especially unarmed, and without the physical prowess or healing abilities of one of the Nine.

"I don't speak your language," he rasped out, coughing as he did so. His first time speaking since his revival, and he predictably sounded like shit. "Do you speak Eldian?"

He had little hope that the man would even respond, much less know what Eldian was. He stood still as the man bit his lip, seeming to rack his brain over something. It was a moment more before he eventually answered.

"Do... you... undastand?"

Eren's eyes widened. The man knew Eldian. Eldian existed. "Yes, I can understand you. I'm Eldian." When the man didn't reply immediately, Eren emphasized it again. "Eldian. El-dee-yan."

"I—speak, no good," the officer managed to stammer out. "You, know, Japaness?"

Japaness? The name of their country, or the language? "No, I don't know... Japaness."

The officer muttered something, clearly discouraged, before trying again. "You," he pointed at him, before gesturing to the area around him. "No."

He wasn't supposed to be here, he assumed. "I'm lost," he said simply. "I'm not from here."

Whether or not the officer understood him didn't seem to affect what he said next. "I, know furendo. Eto... he. He speak Eigo, good." The officer beckoned toward himself, slowly backing up. "Come."

He wanted Eren to follow him. Likely to a holdings building or barracks, or wherever they housed their officers. Likely for questioning, so his... friend? Within the authorities could talk to him. That much, he could make out.

But he couldn't discern what... Eigo was supposed to be. If that was the language he thought he was speaking, then he might not have known what Eldia or Paradis were. Or if they existed. But what he could make out sounded distinctly Eldian—even broken, he recognized the words. The officer was either simply mispronouncing Eldian, or he thought Eren was insane for describing a language and race that didn't exist in his eyes.

He needed to talk to someone he could actually converse with. The "friend" at their barracks might have understood him, but he was also likely an authority. He would doubtlessly be questioned, and if he truly wasn't in the world of Paradis and Marley anymore, he would have nothing to prove his identity, or that he even existed. Any smart officer would immediately deem him a foreign threat to public safety and detain him indefinitely—and without the power of the Nine, he'd be without an immediate means of escape.

The officer beckoned to him once more, in his native tongue this time. His other hand still lingered by his weapon. Eren slowly complied, taking slow, non-threatening steps toward him. Painstakingly slow seconds passed, before Eren stood a few paces away from the officer.

Making a spinning motion with his free hand, the officer gestured for him to turn around. Nodding, Eren began to turn to his hips to his left, maintaining eye contact all the while.

He struck fast, lunging toward the man with all the strength he could muster. They crashed to the ground with a thud, the officer audibly grunting as the air was knocked out of him. Eren unholstered the gun and tossed it—beyond not knowing if it shot the same, firing the gun would only draw more attention. With the cop unarmed and helpless beneath him, Eren laid into the man's face with his fists, punching repeatedly until he was sure the man was unconscious.

Eren finally stopped only after his fist began to throb, the officer's resistance gone. He couldn't recall ever feeling this physically frail. It emphasized his need for caution—there would be no healing of fatal wounds.

A quick search of the officer's person revealed little he could understand, or use. He managed to find the man's notecase, revealing identification and what looked to be the land's currency. Paper notes, emblazoned with text and the photo of a man, though mixed in also were some coins, in unfamiliar denominations.

The man's identification was not in the form of papers, but a rather small photograph with stamps and writing littered throughout. It fit snugly in his palm. The man looked nothing like him, and if asked to verify the name on the photo, he wouldn't be able to read it—though helpful in getting a better grasp of the land's form of verification, it wouldn't help him in any capacity currently.

He needed to leave, and promptly did so. Pocketing the currency, he left the construction site, turning to his left only to see a few more officers standing much further down the street, talking idly amongst themselves. Yet to notice him, Eren quickly turned his heel and walked down the opposite way, keeping his head down and gaze firmly on the ground in front of him.

He continued walking, not even bothering to look back. After some time, the massive buildings vanished, leaving him in a decidedly smaller part of the city he'd found himself in. In their place, massive closed buildings emerged alongside an extensive harbor, though Eren was unsure what function they served in this foreign society. Boats or airships, maybe. Dark water lapped against the railing beneath him, only partially illuminated by the moon above.

His feet plopped him down against a small fence adjacent to the wharf, finally beginning to feel fatigued. Again, strange, since he'd never felt much in the way of bodily aches and exhaustion in... a long while. Not since his initial experimentation with his titan form, under Hange and Levi's supervision.

He grimaced at the memory of their names. Hange had not been with the main group during their assault upon his main body, likely choosing instead to stay behind and defend the airship from the Rumbling—and succeeded, dying in the process. Levi... had been there at the end. Even before that, Eren could vividly remember the man urging him to end the Rumbling, in that tired deadpan he was notorious for. Humanity's strongest, a man he'd worked under for years, chastising him like a misbehaving child for attempting to destroy the world.

Who else had it been? Mikasa and Armin, of course. Jean and Connie as well. Reiner, along with Pieck, and later with Annie and Gabi and Falco. They'd put their past prejudices aside, and come together in an effort to kill him. And they had. He was dead. He should have been.

Why was he alive? His grip on the dirt beneath him tightened. He'd murdered millions. He'd set out for what he'd aimed to do. Become the enemy of the world, so that his friends might live on as the heroes who had ended him. They beheaded the villain who had trampled upon the world, who had only done so for the sake of some childish notion of revenge for what the world had done to him. What awaited him after his death should have been an eternity of torment, reserved for only the most evil of people to have lived.

They would live, as he entrusted them to. Peace would come, and they would all move on to live happy lives without him. Jean, Connie, Armin... Mikasa.

"... why?" He choked, voice breaking. He'd said goodbye to everyone. Spoken his final words, and given them closure. He promised he'd see Armin again in hell, yet, this wasn't hell. Where was he?

He brushed his hand against something sharp. Looking down, he saw a loose shard of glass, blending in with the ground. His gaze fixated on it, before his fingers slowly coiled around it, dulled slightly yet still enough to break his skin as his grip tightened.

He wasn't dead. Not yet. But unlike his previous fate, that could change. He was not bound to life. He could still make things right.

Eren remembered pleading with Armin. "I don't want to die," he'd begged, when it was already far too late. "I just want to stay... with Mikasa. With all of you!"

But the people he'd crushed wanted that too. To stay with the people they'd loved. And he'd robbed them of that, for the sake of the ambition he'd had since Armin had shown him what life beyond the walls could be.

His punishment was to be unending, and horrible, as it had to be. And if for whatever reason he still drew breath, it was on him to finish what Mikasa had started. And so, with a grunt of finality, he raised the shard of glass, dulled yet piercing, and drove it into his throat, dreading and relishing the pain as his own blood gushed from his body and—

"Woah," a voice interrupted him. The shard of glass remained in his hand, virtually unmoved from where he'd found it. "Jesus, you scared the shit outta me."

Eren's eyes moved toward the voice—and the familiar language. Along the fence, from the direction of the wharf proper, was a man. Startled though he looked to see Eren, he didn't seem particularly put off.

"Don't see many homeless folks 'round these parts," the man continued, before slapping a hand upside his head. "Ah shit, wrong language. Uh... fuck, how's it go... daishouboo de-su—"

"You speak my language?" Eren interrupted.

The man's brows shot up into his hairline. "Was that English?" He laughed, almost ecstatic. "A fellow English speaker! Finally! Man, I can't remember the last time I ran into an English native. At long last, Tokyo throws me a bone!"

English? Eren recalled the officer describing something similar when attempting to communicate with him. That must have been the equivalent of Eldian, then, in this world.

The stranger approached Eren before quickly stopping. "Wait. You're not gonna attack me, are you?" His gaze landed on the shard of glass in his hand, a sudden wariness overtaking him. "Just 'cause you speak English doesn't mean I'm quick to trust criminals, man."

Eren considered it for a moment, before throwing out any notion of attacking. Beyond any conflict being unnecessary, he'd stumbled upon someone who spoke Eldian by pure luck. Someone who seemed friendly, willing to talk, and most importantly, someone who probably wouldn't toss him in a cell. This was a golden opportunity to finally learn more about where it was he had ended up.

He tossed the shard of glass some ways away, raising his arms as a show of peace. "I won't hurt you," he promised simply.

The man regarded him carefully for a few moments, before grinning again. "Cool. You seem too put together to be a murderer anyway." The man plopped himself a couple feet beside him, uncaring of whether or not he was in any tangible danger.

The stranger extended a hand. "Denny Latham. Probably the only guy from Rhode Island in this entire country. Pleasure's mine."

Quick to trust, this stranger was. Eren was much more subdued as he returned the handshake. "Eren Yeager. I'm... not from your Road Island." Casual conversation, after what felt like mere hours since he'd been flattening millions of people. This was so absurd.

"I'd sure hope not. I'd lose about the only angle I have with the women if you were," the man, Denny, laughed. Now that Eren had a better look at him, Denny looked to be a bit on the younger side. Similar to his own age, maybe a year or two older. Though, if not for the patches of facial hair and loose smattering of scars, he probably could have passed for a cadet.

Denny settled back into a reserved smile. "So, not a Rhode Islander, but where are you from? Yeager sounds German, but Aaron definitely doesn't."

"I..." Eren debated telling the truth. "... can't say."

Thankfully, Denny seemed okay with his non-answer. "S'cool. I don't pry into secrets. Any family members around? Close friends?"

"No."

"Alright, then what brings you to Japan?"

"I don't know."

Denny frowned. "Alright look, just because I said I don't pry doesn't mean you get to dodge everything I ask you. How about you tell me something you think I should know?"

Eren thought for a long moment, Denny intent on waiting patiently. Finally, he settled on something. "I don't have anywhere to go."

Denny scoffed. "Well duh, that was obvious. Not a ton of homeless folks in this country, at least visibly. Being homeless here means you're really shit outta luck." He cast a glance toward the sea. "I'm assuming you don't have a way to go back to... wherever it is you're from?"

Answering questions only led to more questions. But Denny seemed insistent, and Eren was hesitant to throw away the only person he could effectively communicate with at the moment. There was still so much he had to know about where he was—and how he'd even gotten here.

"No," he eventually responded.

"Do you want to go back?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. He likely couldn't, so he wouldn't torture himself with the possibilities of what if, but the thought had planted itself in his head. He'd wanted nothing more than to be together with Mikasa and Armin and everyone else... but that would mean answering for everything he'd done. The world he knew wouldn't accept him back into it with open arms and forgiveness. Any dream of a happy end for him wouldn't come to him in Paradis.

Denny nodded. "It's okay if you don't know. I will say, Japan's a nice place. Folks are polite, low crime rate, all that. Work culture sucks, but hey, could do a lot worse, that's for sure."

Eren remained planted to the ground, thinking. The sound of the waves lapping against the docks and the wharf was all that consumed the silence that followed. Eren heard what sounded like a plane fly overhead, and his muscles reflexively tensed, only to look to the sky and not see a giant airship with soldiers and bombs raining down on them.

"It's tough, isn't it?" Denny's voice managed to pull Eren back to reality. "Life, I mean. You think about the steps that brought you to this point, alone and somewhere new, and you wonder what you could have done differently if you'd have just gone left instead of right. Or if it even would have mattered in the first place."

That implied a right to agency and choice. A right that Eren did not have. "Thinking about it doesn't do anything. You can't change the past." He thought he could, in his own way. The result always ended up the same.

"Guess so," Denny concurred. "Never was much for philosophy and all that, so you're probably right. Suppose the real challenge is making the best with what you have, huh? Even if you have nothing."

Eren looked at Denny. The man raised his arms in defense. "Just trying to lighten the mood, spit some wisdom. You know, as someone who's been there, I mean."

"You know absolutely nothing about my life."

"Do I need to? I feel like trying to make you feel better is better than having some dick-measuring contest about who's suffered more. All that would end with is you stabbing yourself with a shard of glass." Denny gave him a knowing look. "Yeah, I saw what you were thinking of doing. Maybe I don't know about everything you've been through, but offing yourself now means you survived all of it for nothing."

Eren's anger steadily rose. "What could you possibly know about anything?"

"Plenty. Like how there's plenty to live for if you know where to look." Denny gestured to himself. "I'm not the best example, but me keeping on means proving my dickhead parents wrong about me being a worthless sack of shit. It's spiteful, sure, but it keeps me from going off the deep end. For now, that's enough."

Despite his words, he grinned. "And who's to say that won't change in the future? Maybe I end up with a really nice job, with some really nice people who become lifelong friends. Maybe I fall in love with a wonderful woman who ends up being the love of my life. Hell, maybe I'll adopt a cat or something. Things can change, man—you don't have to act like there's nothing worth living for forever. And really, the only ones who do end up believing that are usually doing it on purpose to themselves, for whatever traumatic reason they're convinced is the pure and honest truth."

Denny shrugged. "So, things suck right now. It happens—life is awful most of the time. Especially if you aren't lucky enough to be born into a situation where you can solve most of your problems with money and ignorance. But hey, long as we're alive, that means there's a chance, however small, that we can turn things around. Make things better tomorrow than they were today. Keep moving forward, yeah?"

Those familiar words. "Keep moving forward," Eren repeated quietly, attempting to frame Denny's sentiment in his mind. Everything he'd done, all the untold carnage and destruction he'd wrought, washed away with a promise of a tomorrow he didn't deserve. Like it was as simple as turning the page of a book.

"It doesn't need to be immediate," Denny attempted to assure him. "Might take you months, years, however long. You'll find something to live for. I'm sure of it."

"It's not that simple," Eren countered.

"Maybe not, but it doesn't need to be super complicated either."

"That doesn't mean you're right."

"Then I guess the only way we'll find out for sure is by seeing it through, right?" Denny seemed particularly proud of that one, much to Eren's ire.

Instead of responding, Eren chose to remain silent. Denny seemed content to do the same, staring into the distance as he lost himself in thought. Briefly, Eren wondered if he had finally angered or upset him with all his spontaneous arguing, before Denny stood up and offered him a hand.

"Alright, get up," he beckoned. "We're going drinking."

That... was not what Eren had been expecting. "What?"

"You heard me, Yeagerbomb. Come on, I'm taking you for drinks. Platonically," he quickly tacked on. "Nothing loosens the tongue like a few beers."

If Denny was expecting him to lose himself to drunkenness, he would be sorely disappointed—though he wasn't one to drink often, the hardest he'd ever drank in his life had been that fateful night in Marley, and that still hadn't been enough to get him any more than mildly buzzed. Then again, he'd had the benefit of the Attack Titan back then.

Beyond that, Eren didn't understand this stranger's insistence in bringing him along. Especially after the conversation they just had. Maybe that was the suspiciously wary Eldian within him, or maybe it was his natural inclination to distrust others. "We've only just met."

"So? You speak my language, I just got paid, and you seem like you could use a break. Do I need more of a reason?" Denny snorted. "Jeez, man. For a homeless guy, you sure are picky."

Paradis had never been an inherently celebratory nation. Decades of slaughter and famine had understandably whittled the citizenry into a collective day-by-day society—ending a day without a dire lack of food or money, or not living with any fear of an immediate breach in the walls was the average aim for most that weren't fortunate enough to live within the interior, and considering the multiple food shortages Eren had experienced growing up, those aims were almost always never met.

Shiganshina was constructed for survival and commerce along the river, and was decidedly not for entertainment, which meant the only people who ever regularly visited the few bars and brothels scattered throughout were those with the money and time to do so. That was usually the local Garrison and the few members of the Scouts that were stationed nearby; essentially, people like Hannes, who didn't think they had very long to live anyway. Beyond his mother meeting his father as a barmaid at one of the taverns, Eren had never cared for any association to them, and that had continued into his adulthood.

Paradisians never really invited each other out for leisure, and Eren was much the same. Denny's insistence and lax reasoning was almost entirely foreign to him, and further cemented how out of place Eren felt.

"Oh, wait, before that," Denny pointed at Eren's feet. "Gonna need shoes if we're hitting the bar, pal. Gimme a sec." Dashing back into the building he'd emerged from, Denny vanished behind the door. He returned a few minutes later, clutching some foreign footwear that looked entirely different from anything Eren had ever seen—but then, at this point, that wasn't much of a surprise. "Couldn't find any socks, but I did find some abandoned shoes someone left behind after packing their shit. Lucky us, or I would have had to put you up in waders for the night, and we both would have looked a little ridiculous. And probably smelly."

Denny offered the shoes to him. "Go on. They're yours."

Hesitantly, Eren took the footwear. Thankfully, people still put shoes on the same way here. Though they felt a little loose, whatever material was used to make them was soft inside. After multiple days of self-inflicted trench foot in Marley, it was a welcome change.

He finished, but Denny continued looking at him. "You gonna tie 'em?"

Eren blinked. "Tie what?"

Denny sighed, taking a knee and grabbing the laces. "God, either you're playing dumb on purpose, or you have the craziest backstory ever."

---

Denny took another deep gulp of his drink. "So, college was never in the cards for me, and my folks definitely weren't pleased about that. Kicked me out, so I tried to make a living stateside, and after that wore away at my wellbeing, decided to fuck off and try again here. A lucky job listing and one excruciatingly long residence card application process later, here I am, living the American dream in Tokyo."

So many different places mentioned—America, Tokyo, and plenty more—that Eren didn't have a hope of remembering any of it. Especially when Denny's life story had been completely unprompted. "Why tell me all this?"

"Why not? We're at a bar, we're getting to know each other better." Denny gestured to the space around them, filled with other patrons happily partaking in the evening and pointedly ignoring the two of them. "Not like anyone gives a fuck."

Spies within the Walls certainly did. He'd been about to say as much before remembering where he was, and decided instead to hold his tongue. "I guess."

Denny took another sip. "So, that's me. I know I said I wouldn't pry, but I hope you'd take my decision to reveal my personal life to you as a gesture for you to do the same."

Eren was unfazed. "You did that entirely on your own."

"Yes I did, but—ugh, you're impossible," Denny relented, exasperated. "Alright, fine then. You don't need to give me your whole story, but please, give me something. Anything. It's like I'm talking to a blank slate here."

For all intents and purposes, he was. "And if I don't?"

"I wouldn't want to, but theoretically, I could totally bail right now and foot you with a bill I'm almost one-hundred percent certain you can't pay."

Eren could probably pay with the money he'd taken from the officer, but that wasn't what mattered. If Denny left, he doubted he'd be fortunate enough to come across another easily-trusting person who spoke his language. Especially in a country where his language was far and away in the minority.

But then, being tight-lipped about things had been drilled into Eren from as early on as his cadet days. As he'd come into the Attack Titan, and embedded himself further within the political sphere of Paradis and beyond, his inclination toward secrecy had only grown. Even as he seemingly had no need for such confidentiality here, it wasn't as though he could unlearn everything he'd been taught about giving away information freely.

Sensing Eren was struggling, Denny offered an out. "Here. Since I'm so nice, I'll even give you a prompt. I remember I asked you earlier what brought you to Japan, and you said you didn't know, whatever that means. Do you have any idea what might have brought you here?"

Eren let the bar's ambience take up the silence as he thought on what to say, before eventually answering. "I was part of the military, back home."

Denny pursed his lips. "... okay. Not sure how that would bring you here, though. Unless there's some secret conflict or insurgency I don't know about? Sorry, I don't follow much of the news these days. Can't understand most of it."

That seemed to imply this country was currently experiencing an era of peace. Eren took a mental note of that information. "No. I'm not military anymore. I'm just... here now."

"Through what means?"

"I don't know. A lot of people died for me to get here."

"Oh." That seemed to dampen Denny's mood. "I'm, uh, sorry to hear that. My condolences." Eren didn't answer, staring into his own untouched drink.

Denny nodded. "Well, I'm sorry you ended up like this. Homeless, I mean. Veterans being treated like shit is usually something that happens where I'm from. Guess it isn't much better everywhere else."

He inspected him with a curious gaze. "Though, you don't look super old for a retired service member. How old are you?"

Freshly nine when he'd met Mikasa, and simultaneously centuries old through the eyes of Ymir. "Nineteen."

Denny's eyes widened in shock. "Nineteen?! Jesus, were you a child soldier?"

Most everyone was a child when they started out in cadet training. "I suppose."

Denny looked genuinely appalled. "Fuck, man. I'm sorry. I didn't know they still did that in places. That sounds horrible." Denny placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Christ, the things you've probably seen."

Bodies upon bodies. The stench of death, everything that remained trampled and maimed beyond recognition. A woman pounding fruitlessly against a giant hand that refused to let go. "Mm," Eren answered, his gaze well beyond what was in front of him.

Sensing the sudden shift in mood, Denny quickly changed the topic. "Okay, Aaron. You don't know what you're doing here, and it doesn't look like you have any desire or means to go back home. What'll you do?"

He wished he knew. "I don't know."

"Figured as much." Denny knocked back the rest of his drink. "Well then, I've got a proposition, if you're willing to listen."

Eren's eyes focused. "A proposition?"

"Nothing bad, promise. Though, maybe a little grueling, if you're not used to physical labor."

"I am."

"That's good! That'll make this easier, then." Denny leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. "You should come work with me, man."

Eren was guarded. "Why?"

"Okay, being completely honest, a couple of guys just up and quit recently after protesting wages. Not enough to take us under, but enough that the rest of us who stayed are kinda feeling the strain of having to pick up the slack. We could really, really use the extra manpower." He pointed to Eren. "You don't wanna be homeless and broke in a foreign country, and we have positions on the crew that are currently desperately hiring. Win-win!"

The key to any negotiation was not letting any desperation slip to the other side, but Denny seemed to be completely ignoring this strategy. "You haven't told me what it is you do."

"Oh, did I not? Commercial fishing, dude. Huge industry here in Japan."

"Like... catching fish?"

"Mhm," Denny nodded. "Know anything about it?"

Paradis had only just begun widespread fishing operations a few years after reaching the borders of the island, and even that had been put on hold in favor of the vast untapped mineral deposits and rail construction efforts. Eren hadn't even been sure if they'd begun operations when he'd first left Paradis. "No."

That didn't seem to bother Denny. "Ah, well, that's fine. I can teach you. Shifts are long, and it can get a bit dangerous in the colder seasons, but it really isn't that hard once you know what you're doing and know your way around a vessel. And hey, not like we can really afford to fire anyone right now anyway, so job security's pretty good!"

Denny noted the skeptical look on Eren's face. "Alright, look, I know it sounds shady, and I admit spending entire days out at sea sucks, but the pay isn't that bad, and it really isn't all that hard outside of busy seasons—which, lucky for you, recently ended! So you'll get to learn on the job while the going's at its easiest."

"They would have no reason to hire a foreigner who doesn't know what he's doing," Eren countered.

"Sure they would. I'm a foreigner, and they hired me, right?" Denny tapped his chest. "And they don't know you don't know anything. I can just tell them you're one of my buddies from Rhode Island, and that's all they'd need to know."

"They would need identification."

"Pfft, hardly. They slapped me with a residence card with my work visa and called it a day. Shit, I think even they forgot that they did that. They just paid me in cash until I told them I had an actual bank."

Eren's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't sound legal."

Denny spread his arms. "Welcome to the fishing biz, baby."

Sensing Eren was unimpressed, Denny continued. "Okay, also, the company partially subsidizes our rent, so it's pretty cheap, and I do happen to be in the market for a new roommate after my old one quit the job..."

Eren didn't know what some of those words meant, but he could hazard a guess. "So, you're doing this to save money?"

"Honestly? Kinda," Denny admitted. "I mean, with the subsidy, paying for a double bedroom wouldn't be impossible, but it'd definitely cut into what money I could reasonably save." He was smiling again. "But that's the thing! With us living together, we could save up super easy! And for someone coming from literally nothing like you, a decent-paying job and a constant roof over your head would be a pretty big improvement, right?"

"Did your former companions not quit because of the pay?"

Denny shrugged. "Something's better than nothing, right? And the cheap rent makes up for it anyway. Trust me, if the pay was really that bad, I wouldn't have staked my entire wellbeing in a foreign country for it."

Eren's expression remained stony. Denny eventually surrendered. "Look man, it's either this, or you end up going back to living on the streets, doing whatever it was you were doing before you met me."

Grudgingly, it was a good point. That didn't clear Denny of all suspicion in Eren's eyes, however. "Why me?"

"Hm?"

"Why help me? I'm a stranger. We just met."

Denny shrugged. "Why not? Felt like being charitable today. Does there need to be more of a reason?"

"I don't believe you." New world or not, people weren't nice for the sake of it. Most everything in life was a transaction, Eren had learned. You plug a wall, the military lets you live. You fight in a war on behalf of your oppressors, you get to put your family in an internment zone instead of having them be raped and murdered. You serve a selfish king's interests, you're given his seed and status when all you'd known previously was scorn and slavery.

The two men entered a staredown, one that Denny had zero hope of winning. True to that, he yielded with a sigh, taking a practiced swig as he finished off his drink. "You want the truth? I'm starting to get a little lonely, man."

That was hardly surprising. "You left your native country for a foreign land, with little knowledge of their language and culture and no established friends."

"I know, I know, no need to rub it in," Denny groaned. "I don't regret the moving part, it's just... you know. It's tough. Language barrier's obvious, but my job means I'm either on a boat or sleeping, so that doesn't leave me a ton of time to get out there and mingle. My coworkers are fine, I guess, but it's mostly just because they don't go out of their way to bother me when they can't even communicate with me for the most part. It'd be nice to just talk to someone normally, you know?"

"And that's supposed to be me?"

"I'm hoping it's you," Denny clarified. "I'm not gonna force you into this—not like I could—but I'm kinda on my hands and knees here, man. You may be a bit of a downer with not a lot of purpose in life right now, but you're not horrible company. And honestly, I think we could both use a friendship, yeah?"

Was this supposed to be flattery? "This isn't very convincing."

"I'm trying my best," Denny pleaded. "Please?"

Going along with it felt like Eren was agreeing with what Denny had suggested about him (which he absolutely wasn't), but he'd raised a good point in that there wasn't much benefit in declining. He'd say no, return to the streets, and then what? Fumble around, robbing more people until he was inevitably caught and quartered?

And again, he needed information. In an advanced society he wasn't from, he needed to learn how it was this society operated quickly if he wanted to survive.

Eren took his first sip of the night from his beverage, and while the drink did somewhat relieve his dried out throat, it also prompted a slightly sour look from him. "This isn't very good."

"Best bang for your buck here. Or, uh, yen I guess." Denny looked at him expectantly. "So...?"

"Fine," Eren said simply. "I'll do it."

Denny looked like he could have melted in relief. "Oh thank god. You're saving my life here, man. Seriously. You won't regret it, promise—I'll teach you everything you need to know about fine living in Japan."

Eren grunted in acknowledgment. He'd hold him to that. "When do I start?"

Denny's smile turned uneasy. "... tomorrow?" Eren's glare could have killed someone. Denny quickly reassured him. "Easy season, remember? I'll be right with you to start. You can even come home with me tonight and crash at your new digs! Old guy left his bed, so your furniture's already there for your enjoyment."

A bed of his own. When was the last time Eren had one of those? "Then let's go."

"What's the rush? Why don't we celebrate the start of a beautiful friendship? Relax, knock back a few more beers, maybe even chat up some pretty women—"

Another glare. Denny nodded in resignation. "Alright, got it. Tab's closed."

---

Eren wasn't quite sure how grueling the work aboard a fishing vessel would be when Denny had first described it. Not even a few weeks later, he understood completely.

Unlocking the door, Eren entered his—their—apartment without so much as a greeting, immediately removing his shoes and shedding his jacket. His steps were exhausted and heavy, all the way to the couch, upon which he crashed unceremoniously. He would have fallen asleep instantly, if not for the knowledge that his bed would feel even better.

Footsteps alerted him to another presence in the apartment. Turning his head, he expected to find his roommate, only to instead be met with a woman he'd never seen before.

His roommate did eventually follow shortly behind her, their hands briefly finding each other. "I'll see you again?" Denny asked softly.

The woman nodded. "Of course." She angled herself for a kiss, exchanging a quick peck. With a smile she made her way to leave, noticing him and granting him a quick, slightly embarrassed bow before exiting the front door.

Denny stared at where she'd been standing for a moment, entire seconds passing before he turned toward him, jumping slightly in surprise. "Jesus, dude. I didn't even know you were here. When'd you get back?"

"Just now." More awake now, Eren shifted into an upright position on the couch. Denny found a seat adjacent to the couch, leaning into it with a content sigh.

The two enjoyed a brief quiet before Denny turned to him. "How was the shift?"

"Fine," he answered curtly. He'd suffered a slight cut on his arm and his hands were sore, but he'd learned to manage without a titan-assisted healing factor early on. All in all, a normal turn on the boat. "It was a decent haul."

"Cool, cool," Denny nodded. "I'm back at it tonight, so hopefully the waters will be nice."

Eren took his turn to nod. Another bout of silence before Denny spoke up again. "You're not gonna ask about her?"

"Your business is your own," Eren declined.

"I'm not gonna get mad if you ask, dude."

"You sound like you want me to ask."

"Uh, yeah, because it's the first woman I've taken home since I've gotten here?" Denny stated like it was obvious. "And she's gorgeous, and funny, and we can actually communicate with each other?"

Denny's enthusiasm reminded him of the late night gossip among the boy's barracks during cadet training. He'd never really participated then, and had no desire to do so now. The look on Denny's face conveyed that he was likely going to explain anyway, even if he didn't ask.

Eren sighed. "How did you meet her?"

"Bar, last night. She actually approached me, if you can believe it," Denny beamed, chest puffed out in pride. "Said she'd overheard me speaking English before, and struck up a conversation with me. Her dad's from the U.K., her mom's a native, and so we got to talking, and apparently she does corporate work for a big-time marketing firm in the city and—"

Eren tuned him out after the mention of a nation he had never heard of before, though it did remind him that he needed to visit a library (or whatever this world's equivalent of a library was) when he could manage the free time. Getting up to speed on his job had obviously kept him busy, and his days off had thus far been spent solely on either resting or learning the fundamental tenets and technologies of his new society.

Eventually, he'd have to move on from the basics to the intricate details of this world—and if he had his way, the current geopolitical relations among this world's nations. If only as a way to not come across as completely clueless when current world topics were presented to him.

"—and you're not even listening to me anymore, huh," Denny sighed, finally realizing his lack of an attentive audience.

"No," Eren confirmed.

"That's fine. Kinda rambled about stuff I shouldn't have anyway," Denny chuckled, slightly embarrassed. "Long story short, you'll hopefully be seeing more of her in the immediate future, if things go well."

Was that wise? "The boat is a demanding job. You'll also have to allocate time and money for her."

"Pretty bleak way of putting it, but I guess you're technically not wrong," Denny conceded, though reluctantly. "Eren, relationships aren't some bottom line on a spreadsheet. Treating it like a physical or financial burden is just gonna keep you alone, man."

Eren didn't get the comparison, but understood the gist. It was clear they would disagree on this. "Your business is your own," he repeated.

"Well now I'm curious," Denny refused to let the conversation change. "I know you had it rough growing up, to put it mildly, but did you ever have someone you were sweet on? A girl you maybe wanted to get together with?"

Eren didn't have the energy to muster up his usual glare that shut Denny up, so he opted for tired words instead. "That doesn't matter."

"Sure it does. You're a good-looking guy, I'm sure there was someone who—"

"It doesn't," Eren ground out, voice raising slightly. He saw a tiny flash of fear reflected in Denny's eyes, and Eren felt the familiar feeling of a snarl forming on his face.

Denny, to his credit, quickly raised his hands and backed off. "Okay, okay. Conversation dropped, I never asked."

His roommate decided to break the growing tension by sitting on the couch and turning on the television—another technological marvel Eren had been introduced to in his brief time in Japan so far. Televisions, telephones, widespread use of electricity, all of it seemed like something taken straight from a storybook. That it allowed for widespread dispersal of information and conversations across great distances and even entire continents had overwhelmed Eren initially. How could Paradis have fared if it had possessed such technology? A more informed citizenry, a better connected military, a more efficient island... they were dangerous and useless thoughts, but Eren could not find it within himself to purge them completely from his mind.

"You wanna choose?" Denny, in an offer of apparent goodwill, slid him the remote, which Eren had learned controlled the television using specific inputs. "Pick whatever you want. I know you're still getting a feel for this, so knock yourself out. Go crazy."

Hesitantly, Eren pressed a button and shifted the images on the screen from one to another—changing the channel, as it were. He filtered through channels after watching each one briefly, going from dramatic performances to sporting events and finally settling on what he often landed on when given control of the device—the worldwide news.

"You're such an old guy," Denny scoffed.

"Remaining informed of global affairs can be of great value," Eren countered.

"You talk like an old guy too. 'Remaining informed of global affairs,' Christ, you sound like my world history teacher."

Eren opted to ignore the jab this time, focusing on the moving picture—video, he corrected himself—on the television. While he couldn't make out the words, being as the woman speaking was talking in her native Japanese, it showcased what looked like a large organized protest in the streets of some large city. The flag in the background of the video conveyed it was taking place in the United States of America, Denny's homeland and one of the leading superpowers in the world, he had come to learn. As Denny had explained, non-violent protests and demonstrations by the people were commonplace and tentatively allowed, which had shocked Eren. Dissidents in Marley were shot on sight.

The segment must have ended, as the video shifted from protesting in the streets to a group of what looked like young women dancing and singing in what was likely the strangest attire Eren had ever seen in his life. He physically recoiled as the women performed, backing into his seat in bewilderment and a fair amount of annoyance.

Denny noticed. "Not a big fan of idols, I take it?"

"What is this?" Eren blanched.

"That's B-Komachi, but if you're asking generally, the idol business. Japan and other Asian countries like to churn out groups of cute girls who can dance and sing and make money off of 'em. They're pretty much just monetizing people's attraction to their looks, talent, personalities, whatever."

Eren blinked, unable to tear his eyes away from the visual and auditory assault coming from the screen. "This is meant to be a performance?"

"Antiquated way of putting it, but sure," Denny shrugged. "I personally don't get the appeal—a little too fake and manufactured for my tastes—but they've clearly got something going for them if they're on the news. And I'll admit some of them are genuinely talented. Those songs are real earworms, man."

That was perhaps the most outlandish thing Eren had heard since he'd arrived in this land. People genuinely enjoyed this... noise? "Are people not conflating their attraction to these women with their actual enjoyment of their music?"

"Oh they definitely are," Denny waved off. "They just don't care. Put pretty girls in cute clothes on a stage, and if they can sing and dance even halfway decently, people will pay to see it. It's a whole business, man. Some particularly popular idols might see more money in a year than we will in our entire lives."

That irked Eren. "That's ridiculous."

Denny nodded sadly. "I think so too, but that's life." An idea struck him. "While we're on the subject of music, though, do you listen to anything in particular? You a big music guy at all?"

"No."

That only seemed to excite Denny further. "So you're a completely blank slate I can project all my favorite music onto in an effort to spread my gospel?"

Eren's eyes narrowed. "No."

"Worry not, friend," Denny ignored him. "By the time we're through, you'll have a completely new appreciation for the musical arts. I've been waiting to put people on to my favorite stuff for forever. All I needed was a technologically-deprived foreign roommate, apparently!"

That Denny never seemed too off-put by Eren when he attempted to force him away vexed the Devil of Paradis greatly. The fact that it was so ineffective that it was beginning to prompt Eren to not even bother trying anymore was even more aggravating, as Denny began playing music through his telephone through means that Eren would never understand.

---

Someone yelled his last name, which meant it was his turn to pull in the nets. With a grunt, Eren squinted through the downpour and grabbed a hold of the line, pulling with all his might.

The net was reeled in. Fish were dumped. Time passed like a blur. The net was recast. Someone slipped from the corner of his eye. Without thinking, Eren helped the man up. He received a wordless nod as thanks, before getting back to work.

He was cold. He hadn't felt that often in Paradis. Or Marley. Or anywhere else he'd been in before. He didn't really like the feeling.

His name was called again, and he returned to the line.

---

Eren screamed, the feeling of unending fire lingering on his skin. He thrashed and writhed, tangled by something firm and restricting. It was only when he managed to open his eyes that he realized he was being restrained not by chains, but by his own bedsheets.

His breathing was erratic as his eyes fearfully darted around the room. He tried to remember where he was—he was in bed. He was alive. He wasn't getting skewered, and burned, and hurt. He wasn't paying for what he'd done. He couldn't help but think he should have.

The anguished screams echoed in his head, simultaneously distant yet deafening. Like he'd heard them only recently, in reality, and not in a horrible dream. A dream, it was only that, he attempted to convince himself—but then, his dreams had never been just that, hadn't they? After reaching the basement, and the ceremony with Historia, everything Eren thought was just "dreams" were in fact visions of pasts that were not his own, leading to a doomed future of his creation.

A future he condoned. One he wanted. Freedom, at the cost of billions of innocent lives.

The door to his bedroom burst open. "Eren?" Denny had entered, a knife clutched in his hand. "Jesus, what happened? Are you okay?"

Eren stared wordlessly at him, not trusting himself to speak. His mouth felt dry, his throat tight. As it was, the two just stared each other down, confused and afraid. One more than the other.

Something dawned over Denny's face. "Oh." Slowly, he placed the knife on the floor, taking careful steps to Eren's bedside. He wordlessly sat at the end of his bed, the mattress creaking under the extra weight.

Eren's breathing still hadn't slowed. He only just realized he was sweating. His hands were clammy, shaking. It took some effort not to vomit. Was that blood in his mouth? Or was that just a memory of it, from when he'd devoured the Tybur woman, or when he'd eaten his dad, or when he'd killed and killed and killed and—

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. Denny reentered his field of vision. "Hey, look at me. Breath." He simulated deep, calming breaths, Eren following along on pure instinct. "You're okay. You're okay, Eren. You're not where you were—you're here now, with me. You're safe."

Marginally, his heartbeat slowed. His hands finally stopped trembling, and only then did he notice that his entire body had been shivering. A shaky breath escaped his lips, released like he'd been holding it in for hours. A wave of emotion left with it, and suddenly his eyes were watering.

He couldn't help the sobs, racking his body like gunshots. "Fuck..." he cursed, ashamed and scared. Like he was a boy again, crying himself to sleep at the memory of seeing his mother being eaten. A memory he had ensured came to pass. "Fuck... fuck...!"

Denny hugged him wordlessly. Eren didn't have the heart or energy to fight out of it. "I'm s-sorry," he wept, tears falling freely. "I-I'm so, so sorry..."

"It's okay," Denny whispered.

"No," Eren snarled through the tears. "I'm a murderer. A monster. I've killed so, so many... Sasha, Hange, everyone in Liberio... Ramzi... I'm sorry..."

Denny shook his head. "It's not your fault."

"It is!" Eren growled, voice rising. "I was selfish! I did it for me! I tried to find a way to stop it, but when I couldn't, I went and did it anyway! Because I'm selfish, horrible, and so fucking evil!"

"You're not evil," Denny denied. "Being selfish doesn't make you evil, Eren."

A spike of anger shot through Eren, leading him to shove Denny off of him. "You don't understand! You never understood!" He was yelling hysterically now. "My selfishness got people killed! People who didn't deserve it—men, women, children! People whose only crime was living in a world I hated! It was never their fault they were born where they were, and I murdered them for it! Because I wanted the exact same thing—to be free!"

Freedom, from all things. From titans, from Marley, from the Scouts, his power, his curse, his head—all of it. He'd been so very tired at the end of it all. The world could have called for him to forfeit all his power and disappear until Ymir's Curse eventually took him, and so long as he had his friends and comrades beside him, he would have gladly done so. Yet, that implied agency, the freedom to choose—the one freedom he was never afforded in life.

Denny was silent, but didn't seem to be judging him. That only angered Eren further. "What if it was your people I killed? Your friends? The woman you love? Everyone you've ever cared about, trampled and squashed like insects! Because of me? Because of my selfish dream?"

Denny's lips pursed. His gaze slowly met the floor. "Then... I'd probably hate you. Really, I'd probably want to kill you."

"Then do it!" Eren begged, desperate. "Take your revenge! Avenge everyone who's ever died at my hands! Save them!"

The man shook his head, suddenly resolute. "I won't, Eren."

"Why?" Eren pleaded. "Do it! Kill me!"

"No."

"Fucking kill me, Denny! I can't keep living like this! I see them, hear them, their screams and cries! All of it, endlessly! They deserve to be happy!"

"And why don't you?" Denny asked. "Why don't you deserve to be happy, Eren?"

This was pointless. Primal anger consuming him, Eren leapt for the knife Denny had placed on the floor, intent on ending it all himself. He was intercepted midway by Denny, who tackled him to the floor.

It was a hopeless struggle—Denny was well-built, but Eren had been a soldier for years. His superior strength held Denny at bay just long enough to reach the knife, and though it took some effort, he managed to angle it above his neck. A swift slice would kill him immediately, and if not that, surely bleed him out.

A sudden surge, but this time from his opponent. Eren was suddenly slammed onto his back, arms sprawled to his sides, knife included. Denny draped himself over his body, pinning him with his weight in a position that left Eren's arm powerless. Eren's neck was covered by Denny's head, his heart by Denny's back.

Eren grunted, and managed to lift the knife once more. Denny still obstructed his vitals, however.

"Do—do it," Denny grunted, in obvious exertion. He was tiring quickly. "Kill me first, then yourself. You're a murderer, right? What's one more corpse? One more person to curse you forever?"

Hesitation clouded him. It would only take a simple stab, an easy slash, and Denny would be off of him for good. Yet, the knife did not come down upon the man.

"Go on," Denny goaded. "My life's worthless anyways. My folks hate me, my job sucks, and my only friends are a suicidal war vet and some woman who sees God knows what in me. No one'll miss me." His head angled up, his eyes challenging Eren. "That's how this works, right? That's how we value ourselves now? By disregarding everyone who might miss us when we're gone?"

Eren's hand shook. The knife finally fell—out of his grasp, onto the floor. Denny quickly took in his own hand, rolling off of Eren and dashing to the window, which he quickly opened and tossed the knife out of. Panting, his exhaustion brought him to the floor once more, as he leaned his back against the wall and wiped the bullets of sweat from his brow.

Eren, meanwhile, felt a familiar numbness overtake him. His sobs returned, though quieter this time, leaving him to cry on the floor with an arm above his eyes, futilely attempting to hide himself from the world. He'd been so close; all it would have taken was one more life, one more corpse to his never-ending number. And yet, when given the opportunity, he'd hesitated.

Denny had regained his breath. His voice was almost eerily calm as he spoke. "Murderers don't hesitate," he said simply, as though he was reading his mind. "For everything you said about wanting to end it all, you didn't. Even though you easily could have."

"You got—hrk—you got in my way," Eren defended feebly, almost at a whisper.

"You could have killed me. And even if you didn't, I'm not that strong. If you had been dead set on killing yourself, I don't think it would have taken that much effort to get me off of you." Eren couldn't believe how calm Denny's voice was. "You were close, but you stopped."

Eren didn't answer, trying to drown out the noise with his own sobs. He was so tired. Where was Mikasa? Could she kill him again? Put him out of his misery, one final time?

Denny had moved, sitting down next to him. "When you told me you were a soldier, I thought I had reckoned with the fact that you'd probably killed people. That's what happens to child soldiers, right? They kill, because they have to, and they don't know any better. I thought I understood that, but I didn't."

A brief hesitation. "You were right, about me not understanding anything. I could never know what it was like, going through what you went through. Frankly, I don't wanna know. And if you never tell me for the rest of your life, I'd be more than okay with that."

He looked toward Eren. "Wanna know something about me?" Eren didn't answer. Denny didn't mind. "You might not believe this, but I'm a pretty selfish guy, too. S'why me and my parents never did get along. What they, and what everyone else wanted from me? I went and told them all to fuck off, and did what I wanted to do. Because, just like everyone else on this planet, I'm willing to inconvenience others for the sake of what I want, and what I believe in. And you know what else?"

Denny smiled, of all things. "I actually think you're a pretty cool guy, deep down. Stoic, mysterious, and you're ripped as shit. Seriously, I'd kill for abs like yours. You can handle your liquor too, which I'm definitely jealous of."

Eren finally removed his arm, puffy eyes glancing at the man who may as well been babbling nonsense in his eyes. "What are you—"

"Nuh-uh, my turn to speak," Denny quickly interrupted. "You've killed people. Innocent people, even, who didn't deserve it. But I'm selfish—I never knew any of those people personally. The Eren I know hasn't killed any people. To my knowledge, he's just my broody, edgy roommate from the Stone Age who I rescued off of the street one day. He's a quiet guy, a good coworker, and a better friend than he likes to give himself credit for. A stabilizing presence in my hectic life abroad."

He raised his hands. "Maybe I could kill you. Avenge all the people you killed, try to reason it like I'm evening the balance of lives. But that's not how it works. As far as I know, those dead souls don't magically go to heaven or whatever after I kill their killer. There's just... one less living person in the world. And suddenly, I'm left without a friend, a coworker, a roommate. Selfishly, I don't want to have to pay double rent while I go find a new roommate, and even more than that, I don't want to lose one of the few friends I've made in this country." Denny scoffed. "Shit, maybe that makes me complicit. Maybe that sends me to hell when I eventually die. But I personally don't think that makes me evil.

"Eren Yeager might be a murderer, and a monster to a lot of people... but not to me. In my eyes, Eren Yeager's my friend. Even if he doesn't think he deserves it."

They were flowery words, meant solely to comfort and shield him from the reality of what he'd done. No amount of platitudes would justify what he'd done. Eren had made peace with that, well before he'd made the titans within the walls walk. Or at least, he thought he had.

Denny placed a hand on Eren's shoulder. His smile was small, and genuine. As hard as Eren tried to find any, there was no judgement in Denny's gaze. After everything he'd done, here was one person who didn't want him dead because of it.

He didn't deserve it. Even as Denny wrapped him into another hug, and as he cried openly and pathetically, he continued to repeat to himself that he was the person least deserving of mercy and comfort in the history of mankind.

"I'm not a therapist or psychiatrist, so I couldn't tell you what it is you really need to get over everything you've seen and done, but I've heard just being there for people does a lot," Denny spoke softly. "Works out, since we're roommates and coworkers." Eren said nothing, but seeing as he'd yet to disengage from the hug, that was answer enough for the both of them.

"I need you to promise me something," Denny's tone turned serious. "I'm not gonna try and tell you how to feel, but please... don't kill yourself. Give yourself a chance."

"I can't promise that," Eren managed between hitches in his voice.

"Then promise me you'll at least try to live," Denny pivoted. "Even if you have to lie, or trick yourself, or whatever it is you have to do to convince yourself you deserve it... promise me that much."

Even if he wanted to, Eren couldn't fool himself into believing that. Everything he'd done had been with the idea that he'd pay for it in the end with his death at Mikasa's hands. Being denied that meant living with the fact that he'd yet to pay his price for freedom. Everything in life was a transaction—he'd done nothing, nor given up anything to deserve his second chance at life.

But even still... here he was. For whatever reason, some higher power or whatever else had deemed that he had yet to pay his penance. That he was worthy of a second chance. And for all that he loathed himself, for as much as he wanted to give himself into the eternal punishment that awaited him... a flickering spark within Eren Yeager still fought for the right to live. He had absolutely no right to be selfish after leading a life cursed by his own selfishness, but the spark burned still.

Here and now, Eren Yeager wasn't a titan, or a progenitor, or a usurper. Here and now, Eren Yeager was just a man, held to the vices and whims that came with being a simple human. And on the most fundamental basis of humanity, was the desire to live at all costs.

"Fine," Eren finally said, exhausted and fatigued and drained. He could muster no more. That seemed to be enough for Denny, however. "Good. I know it sucks now, but it'll get better. I promise it will."

And despite the overwhelming part of Eren vehemently refusing to believe it would ever be okay again, that tiny spark chose to believe him.

---

The next morning, Denny was waiting for him in the living room with a cup of tea. Eren accepted it wordlessly. The two sat down, taking intermittent sips. Denny apparently chose not to turn the television on. Eren appreciated the silence.

A bird perched by the balcony. Someone's vehicle made that blaring sound they sometimes made. A plane flew overhead, and Eren managed not to let the usual spike of fear and reflexive tensing course through him.

"Thank you," he said quietly. He wasn't even sure if Denny could hear him, but he didn't want to repeat himself. Denny's smile was indication enough, however.

"Anytime."

---

The haul today was massive. More fish than he'd ever seen previously. It took almost twice as long as it usually did to sort it all.

One of the crew had laughed at something he had done while he was in the vessel's bunk room. He wasn't sure if he was being made fun of or not, but the good-natured smile and slap on his shoulder probably meant he wasn't. He wasn't even sure what he'd done in the first place.

Briefly, he wondered how Historia was doing. She had a baby, he remembered. He hoped they were healthy.

---

After a particularly lifelike nightmare, Eren hadn't been able to fall back asleep. While it wasn't on the level of the one a month ago, the vivid sounds of ripping flesh and piercing screams had thoroughly embedded themselves in his head. Enough that it had taken a full fifteen minutes to regain control of his breathing and stop shaking.

He wasn't scheduled for tomorrow (today, as he saw the clock read past midnight), allowing him the chance to calm himself down—"destress", as Denny had put it. Drink some water, get some fresh air, maybe do some reading to attempt to distract himself. He'd initially thought it foolish at first, but as he committed to it more and more often, Eren found that it helped, even if only a little.

Exiting his room to get a glass of water, he noticed lights flashing in the living room, filled with the sound of people talking. Eren was wary initially, before he noticed how the voices sounded somewhat imbued with static—because they were from the television, he realized. The tension drained his body as he entered the living room.

Denny was lounging on the couch, a beer clutched in his hands. He looked surprised to see Eren awake. "Oh, hey. Didn't think you'd be up this late."

"I wasn't," Eren replied, the implication obvious. Denny caught immediately, grimacing. "Nightmare?"

Eren nodded. Denny paused the TV. "Everything okay?"

"No."

"Mm. Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

Denny pried no further. "Okay. I'm here if you need me for anything." It had been conveyed after the first episode that while there was essentially nothing Denny could do to prevent such outbursts, his presence helped Eren calm down, if only marginally. Perhaps just as importantly, it helped to steer him away from his more violent tendencies while Eren's mind was in a more vulnerable state. After his last incident, they'd sat in near total silence on the balcony for close to an hour, staring into the night sky.

"I'll be on the balcony," Eren stated, moving to slide the glass partition out of the way.

"Alone? Or do you want me to come?"

"Alone," he answered simply. "Thank you," he tacked on, if only as a courtesy. He knew Denny would keep an eye on him to ensure that nothing happened, even if Eren assured him he wouldn't do anything drastic. Sliding the glass shut behind him, Eren reclined into a chair, relaxing as best as he could manage as he gazed into the evening sky.

It was slightly chilly out, but not too much so. Eren kept his breaths steady, counting the seconds between the rising and falling of his chest. After a while, Eren felt a few tears escape from his eyes; but rather than fight them, he'd been encouraged to let it happen, as a means of getting it all out of his system. And so Eren let them fall, accepting the few quiet sobs that came with them.

He was unaccustomed to being so vulnerable. He'd worn his heart on his sleeve and tried his hardest to express an image of strength in his first few years as a cadet, before being forced into withholding his emotions after coming into the true power of the Attack Titan. Now, after so many years of carefully controlling how he came off, he was finding it difficult to express himself genuinely. Even around Denny, someone Eren had come to trust, he struggled to be completely honest and open with how he felt. Reversing those habits after they were so thoroughly ingrained in him felt impossible.

The last of his tears left him, as did the worst of the lingering afterimages of his nightmare. It had revolved around Armin this time—his lifelong friend cursing him for lying, for starting a new life free from pain while he and the rest of their combined Paradisian-Marleyan entourage were forced to pick up the few pieces left from what Eren had started. The argument culminated in Armin killing him in a fit of rage. Eren had accepted it, despite initially pleading that he hadn't lied, or forgotten their promise to each other. That he still loved him, and Mikasa, and everyone else he had left behind.

Something Denny had suggested to him in dealing with the aftermath of his episodes was, surprisingly, music. "Keeps you distracted, and it can help you focus on more pleasant things," he'd explained. "Music has the power to do a lot more than you realize." After purchasing an older, standard-issue mobile telephone—which had been an ordeal in of itself, but had been deemed necessary to maintain contact with Denny in the event of an emergency—Denny had walked Eren through finding and utilizing a means of accruing specific songs and instances of music and "saving" them onto his phone, for him to listen to whenever he wanted. And for an even more immersive experience, Eren could use a pair of what Denny had called head-phones to drown out the noise from his surrounding environment, so that he could only hear the music. Eren still wasn't quite used to such technology yet, but he wasn't quite as overwhelmed as he thought he'd be.

For the vast, vast amounts and genres of music that Denny had introduced to him, Eren still chose to stick with what he knew—A genre known in this world as classical music. Taking his time in equipping himself with the headphones and plugging them into his phone, Eren took a breath as he found one such song he'd come to appreciate and let the soothing sounds wash over him, closing his eyes as he reclined further.

Denny had been right. The music was... pleasant. And distracting, like he'd promised. Gone were the screams of the dying and curses of the living, replaced by a soft blare of flutes and horns and other instruments he was vaguely familiar with. He remembered there had once been a grand performance put on in Paradis during Historia's coronation, a chorus of triumphant and grand sounds in honor of the island's new queen. He wasn't used to such a celebration, but he found he didn't mind it as much as he thought it would. It had added a splendor to the occasion that would have been lacking otherwise.

Perhaps, put simply, it brought Eren back to better times. Happier times. Before the knowledge of Marley and the Rumbling and everything else. When it had just been him and his fellow Survey Corp members, fighting for each other. Even if those days were long gone now, those memories were real. They had happened. A reminder that Eren hadn't always been alone in the world. He wasn't alone now, either.

The music Denny liked was a tougher sell. Still too much noise, too many foreign sounds and instruments and lyrics that didn't mesh together well in his head. Some of it sounded decent, but it was still something completely new to him. Denny insisted it would grow on him, but Eren wasn't so sure. For now, the music he was currently listening to was enough.

His breathing had continued to steady by itself. His hands didn't grip the ends of the armrests too tight. Visions of blood were replaced by visions of laughing and revelry. Yes, for now, this was more than enough.

---

This world's history was fascinating. Such a vast tapestry of conflicts, religions, and instances of human expansion and survival throughout centuries of recorded civilization. All without any mention of titans.

Though, such extensive recording also included detailed accounts of the many atrocities committed throughout those centuries. Wars, slavery, genocide—all of it. Entire books, hundreds of pages long, were dedicated to extensive movements and events that changed the course of life and human history. British Imperialism, the Transatlantic Slave Trade, Nazi Germany's Holocaust... so many stories, all with longstanding ramifications and consequences.

Perhaps it was a bleaker realization, then, that humanity did not require superhuman powers to commit acts of unspeakable violence against each other. They'd simply create their own instead.

The book Eren currently was engrossed in detailed perhaps one of the most consequential of those aforementioned atrocities, committed right in Japan. The bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki sounded almost impossibly lethal, and equally as agonizing. If not a sudden death from the blast, then a slow death from a sickness that took hold almost instantly, and was impossible to treat once exposed. Eren couldn't quite grasp the science behind the process, but to be poisoned at the most basic level of human life was a horror he couldn't even begin to fathom. A fate far worse than simple death.

He tried to visualize it. Something like the Colossal Titan's explosion, on an even wider scale, with an even wider reach of carnage. A weapon made by man, made solely for the eradication of mass amounts of their fellow man. The thought of its use again sent a small shiver through Eren.

'And it still doesn't compare to what you did,' a part of him saw fit to remind him. He silently pushed that thought away as he continued reading.

Tokyo's Metropolitan public library was a veritable fortress of knowledge, even for a foreigner like him. He'd been assured that there were plenty of books for him to peruse in English, from works of fiction to historical accounts and textbooks. Though the latter far outnumbered the former, it was those accounts that he came for in the first place. To broaden his knowledge of the world, so that he might better assimilate into it.

On a more personal level, he liked it here. It was quiet, and he was allowed to stay until it closed for the evening. He could spend hours reading, and not a single person would come by to disturb him. He could even listen to his music with his headphones, if he wanted to. He'd already taken to spending entire days at the library when he wasn't working.

There was certainly plenty to keep him busy. Beyond the massive, winding historical retellings and accounts of greater events in recent human history, Eren had taken to enjoying the smaller stories that highlighted noteworthy feats or instances in human history. The creation of the world's first airplane. Stanislov Petrov's prevention of a third world war. Mankind's journey into space, and landing on the moon (that had introduced Eren to the concept of space, which he couldn't delve too deeply into for fear of being overwhelmed by how massive the universe was outside of humanity).

And then there were the collaborative efforts between nations. The Olympics, exchange programs, simple trade agreements and alliances. While tensions certainly existed, it amazed Eren that these countries could still find it within themselves to work together for the betterment of their people and their aligned interests. Such a concept seemed entirely foreign to him back on Paradis, but here in this world, it was commonplace. Expected.

When Eren traveled through the city, he was greeted by people of differing appearances and ethnicities. The vast majority of them were Japanese, to be sure, but every now and again Eren would see an American casually dining or walking with Japanese friends. Two groups of people whose countries were at war a little more than half a century ago, making peace and forging friendships together. Perhaps some sentiments lingered, but not to these people. To each other, they were likely just simple friends. People whose company they enjoyed.

"In the end, we're all just people," he remembered telling Falco. Marleyans had their prejudices, as did Paradisians. They'd sooner eradicate one another than admit that they were more alike than they were different. Genocide after genocide, the cycle never ended. But at the end of it all, they had families, loved ones they cherished, people that they'd be willing to do anything to protect. They'd simply aimed that fear and hatred at each other, because that was what they'd been taught to do from the moment they could understand as much. He was sure the Japanese and the Americans had been taught the same, once upon a time.

Yet, here they were. Coexisting in peace. Despite everything, despite all the rage and retaliation and years of loss, these people had overcome that to come together as friends. Maybe back then, after the atomic bombings and the events that preceded it, that kind of peace had seemed impossible. Not even a century later, such a thing had come to pass.

That kind of thing wasn't easy, Eren knew. Hatred was a difficult emotion to get rid of. Even then, sometimes the most you could do was cope with it. Eren had never been the best at that, admittedly. Everything had to go his way, nothing could go unavenged. How could you let go of something that had hurt you so profoundly? Plenty of people couldn't.

But it was possible. The history of this world had shown him that it was. People possessed the capacity to commit great evil, but they also possessed the capacity to forgive. To move forward, and to choose peace over war.

It was a hopeful sentiment, to be sure, but it only made the reality of what Eren had done sink further in his mind. People couldn't forgive if they were dead, after all. Returning to his book, he'd make the active choice to not think about it now. Though, he knew he'd have to confront it again eventually.

Maybe that counted as him choosing peace, too.

---

The busy season eventually ended. Eren felt like it had come and gone in a flash. For as physically grueling as the job was, time passed quickly while he was at sea. It had already been more than half a year since he'd started.

One of the older men brought him a gift, as thanks for preventing him from going overboard one choppy night. A gun, it had been called, but rather than shoot, it vibrated. In phone-assisted English, the man explained it was supposed to massage his muscles to help him unwind. Eren thanked the man—he remembered his name was Kenta, but everyone called him Ken. When he had done the same, the man seemed pleased.

Eren cooked for the first time. It went poorly. He and Denny still dutifully ate his failed seared salmon and rice, not intent on wasting ingredients, or Eren's effort.

His nightmares had become less frequent as of late.

---

When Eren and Denny arrived to work together, their coworkers were in the middle of celebrating.

It was subdued, as Eren had become accustomed to in Japanese culture, but the fact they were celebrating at all prompted Denny to go investigate. Seeing as Denny's conversational skills were much better than his own, Eren was content to wait for Denny to finish finding out what had happened. Some time later, Denny returned with a grin as big as their coworkers'.

"Dude," he said simply. "Dude."

Eren would never get used to that form of speech. "What?"

"Alright, so I don't know the specifics, since Ken just gave me the general gist of it. Remember the guys who quit before I met you? Apparently, some of them were threatening to get in touch with journalists, and maybe even take the higher-ups to court over some labor disputes or something. I don't know what evidence they had, or if it was even legitimate, but apparently it was enough to scare them into giving us all bonuses to keep us quiet—big ones." Revealing a slip of paper, Denny placed it in Eren's hand. "Go on, take a look."

A peek inside the slip revealed a neatly pressed stack of yen notes, in an amount and denomination that was enough to make even Eren's eyes widen. "Oh."

"To put it mildly," Denny chuckled. "And get this—it's only the first of three installments. We all get two more payments—one more next week, and the last the week after. That's on top of payday."

That... was indeed a lot. Eren had no idea what could have possibly threatened the higher brass enough to give this kind of payout, but it was clear that they weren't so much worried about the money as they were the fallout of whatever information the former employees had leaking to the press. It was something Eren was loosely familiar with, though he was more versed in secrets of the state as opposed to those of a business.

"So we just... do nothing?"

"We keep our mouths shut no matter what," Denny nodded. "Fishing biz, baby."

That, Eren could do. He wasn't so passionate about his work and justice to forgo this kind of money. "Okay."

As it was, Eren wasn't much up for celebrating with the rest of the crew, though he did choose to return some of the excited looks on the men's faces with a nod of his own every now and again. After they had gotten dressed, equipped and set out, it was business as usual. Still, the thought of coming into such money lingered in his head as they made out for Tokyo Bay.

He wasn't the only one, evidently. "I'm thinking this may be it, man," Denny said to him after a while.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, I may finally be done with this place," Denny continued. "This job, I mean. I've been here long enough, I think. And now that I've got some money, well..."

That caught Eren completely by surprise. He'd been under no assumption that Denny particularly loved his job, but he never envisioned him leaving. "Why?"

"Things are getting pretty serious with Shouko. She's brought up the idea of moving in together, and I think I'm ready for that." He gave Eren a knowing look. "I like our digs, but I don't think we've got much room for a third person, much less a lady. She lives further in the city, and I don't love this job enough to make the lengthy commute. Just seems like a good time to move on."

Denny smiled. "Besides, I think there's more for me out there. I don't think I was meant to toil away fishing forever. I've already made it this far—why not see what else I can do out there?"

Eren digested that for a second before he spoke again. "When were you thinking of leaving?"

"Not immediately. Be a bit suspicious if I left immediately after this recent fiasco. I think I'll tough it out for another month or so, then start moving stuff over to Shouko's. Don't worry, I'm not gonna leave you high and dry by leaving as soon as we get back."

Eren nodded. Denny took the silence as contemplative. "Aw, don't worry. We'll find a roommate for you once I'm gone. Don't know if they'll be as handsome as me, but there are plenty of folks that wouldn't mind rooming with you, I'm sure."

Eren shook his head this time. "No."

"No?"

"I'm... thinking of leaving, too."

Now it was Denny's turn to look surprised. "Oh, uh... no offense, but I think we both know you don't have anything immediate lined up."

Eren shook his head. "I do not."

"So I'm not sure if cutting off your only means of income is the smartest thing to do, Eren."

Probably not. Even so... "I think there's more for me out there, too."

Denny's gaze bored into him, perhaps looking for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. When he found none, the look shifted into one of approval. "I think so too, buddy. If you're sure, then I'm all for it. Just, uh, no crashing at me and Shouko's place if it doesn't pan out, yeah?"

Eren snorted softly. "I won't."

"Ah, he's laughing! You're getting better at that," Denny pointed out, which Eren pointedly ignored. Eren thought that was the end of the conversation for now until Denny continued. "Tell you what—I know Ken's told me that his brother helps manage a few rental properties in and around Tokyo. If you're gonna be looking for a new place to stay, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to bring up that you saved his brother's life, and that it maybe warrants a discount on rent...?"

That prompted a skeptical look from Eren. "I'm not sure he would go for that."

"Sure he would! Ken likes you, and I know he'd put in a good word. Maybe just some discounted rent until you get yourself a new job. Two or three months, tops."

He didn't think Ken liked him that much, but it wasn't like he had a great deal of options to choose from. He supposed it couldn't hurt to ask. "I guess."

"Atta boy." Denny's gaze turned to the sea. "So, what are you gonna do? Once you're out there, I mean."

Not even Eren knew. Once more, when granted with the option to do whatever it was he wanted, Eren balked. He would perhaps never grow accustomed to the freedom to choose, despite having fought so hard for it. It was a cruel irony that he would be forced to endure for as long as he had to.

But, if nothing else, Eren didn't completely dread the feeling. Not in the absolute way that had overwhelmed him previously. And while he was under no illusion of how difficult it would be to carve a place for himself in a world he didn't belong in, maybe that wasn't a consignment to a doomed future. In a world that wasn't his own, without titans and curses and generations of never-ending wars running rampant in his head, who was to say there wasn't a future for him out there that not even he could see?

"I don't know," Eren answered simply. For as uncertain as his words were, they didn't come off as negative. Denny must have thought the same, as he seemed to smile in agreement.

---

On Eren and Denny's last day, the rest of the crew present surprised them with a brief celebration. Though their words were brief and partially assisted from their phones' verbal translators, their well wishes were clear. They'd given them a few gifts, bowed in respect, and told both of them to contact any of them if they were ever in trouble. Ken went so far as to gift Eren some very expensive-looking Sake, before granting Eren the most un-Japanese-like tradition of a bear hug as they parted. Denny swore he saw Eren staring back forlornly at the harbor as he drove the both of them home—Eren quickly denied such a claim.

They'd cleared out what little furniture had been in the apartment throughout the prior week; most all of it had been moved to Eren's new place, leaving only the bare essentials for the night. The profits from the few things that had been sold had been given to Eren; when he'd initially declined the offer, Denny quickly gave him little choice but to accept. "Not to brag, but my girlfriend's kinda loaded," Denny had boasted at the time. "And I think we both know you could use it a lot more than I could."

When they went to bed that night, Eren had trouble falling asleep. He could pretend that it was because he was sleeping on the floor for the first time in months, and that it was not because he thought about how he was going to miss the familiar walls and ceilings.

The following morning, Denny walked with Eren to the train station. In part to say goodbye, in part to ensure Eren could use his IC card correctly. Upon confirming the latter, the two stopped in front of Eren's line.

"Well," Denny started simply. "This is it."

Eren nodded. "Yeah."

"Don't worry," Denny reassured him. "It's not like we can't see each other anymore. We're both still in Tokyo, and you know how to use the trains now! We can probably visit each other whenever we want. And we both won't be stuck on boats!"

A tiny scoff from Eren. "Sure."

"And don't you get too busy for me, big guy. Job, girlfriend, whatever, don't forget that it was me who fished you out of a ditch to start. Pals before gals and all that."

"That's not happening."

"I thought so too, but then I met the love of my life," Denny smirked knowingly. "Don't knock it 'till you try it. Who knows what the future holds?"

Eren hummed. A few beats of silence passed, filled by the sounds of the station. Denny sighed, shaking his head. "Man, at least act a little sad. You're making me feel like I'm the only one who's—"

"Thank you."

Denny's brow quirked. He hadn't expected that. "Yeah. You're, uh, welcome. Can I ask for what?"

For the first time in all the time Denny had known him, Eren looked to be visibly struggling with what to say. He wouldn't go as far to say that Eren looked embarrassed (he resigned himself to the fact that he'd likely never live to see the day he saw Eren show anything close to a blush), but his usually stern expression had softened. It was faint, and it took knowing Eren for as long as he did to see it, but it was there.

"For everything," Eren eventually managed. "For helping me when you found me, letting me stay with you, giving me a job... protecting me from myself."

Denny shrugged, opting for the humble approach. "Of course. It was the least I could—"

"No," Eren cut off. "It was not the least you could do. People are selfish, and they work in their own interests. It is what makes us inherently human. People going out of their way to express kindness for no benefit of their own goes directly against how we as humans survive."

"But there was a benefit. I wanted you to help me pay my rent," Denny argued.

"Anyone could have done that. There were far better, and safer candidates than a random homeless man you met on the street that happened to speak your language. If it were me, I would not have extended such a kindness." His eyes, normally so neutral and inexpressive, almost glowed with conviction. "You did. You may not think it's a big deal, but it was to me."

Eren sounded more sure of himself than Denny had ever heard before. "Thank you for being my friend, Denny. It means more to me than you will ever know. Even if I might not have deserved it... I'm glad that we met."

Denny looked shocked, mouth slightly agape as he digested Eren's extremely rare display of expression. That shock eventually morphed to restrained tears, as he quickly wiped them from his eyes before they had a chance to fall. "Well, shit. Didn't plan on crying today. You're one unpredictable guy, you know that?"

"I learned from the best," Eren conceded.

"And now you're making jokes, too. World must be ending." Denny took a breath, exhaling the teary emotion from his system. "Fuck it, one more for the road. Put 'er there, Yeagerbomb."

Despite his prior words, Eren eyed him warily. "What is this?"

"A hug."

"Why are you extending your hand?"

"It's a special hug," Denny was forced to explain. Only Eren Yeager would make a hug so complicated. "We clasp hands first, then we move in and use our other arm for a quick hug. It's easy. We Americans do this all the time."

Eren still looked confused. "And this is for...?"

"Saying goodbye, but also for saying hello to someone you're friends with," Denny answered. When he framed it like that, it sounded fitting for this occasion. "We clasp hands first, then we hug."

"This sounds needlessly complicated."

"Many things in life are, I've learned." Denny gave him an imploring look. "Come on. Won't hurt, I promise."

Eren still looked suspicious, as was his trademark, but his prior speech seemed to have loosened him up. Slowly, Eren stiffly met Denny in the handshake (it was more like a grip to Eren), before following Denny's instructions into the half-embrace. It lasted only for a second, as Eren quickly pulled away. Denny maintained a solid grasp on his hand, however.

"There, easy. Wasn't so bad, right?"

The frown on Eren's face said otherwise. Baby steps, Denny reminded himself. For now, he'd enjoy the moment.

Denny grinned. "Don't be a stranger. Anything you need, lemme know."

"I will," Eren nodded. "Goodbye, Denny."

"Ah ah," Denny cut off. "See you later, Eren."

Eren would take that. "See you later, Denny." One last nod, before Denny went to find his line. Eren briefly watched his retreating back, eventually turning toward his own line. Entering, he found his train quickly, choosing to stand as the train whisked him toward his new home. His next chapter.

His mobile phone vibrated. A text. From Denny, predictably. "And one more thing," the message read. "Keep moving forward."

Of all the things he could have said... perhaps Eren would never escape those words. Though he felt a familiar spike of dread course through him at the familiar phrase, Eren noted it was followed by a lesser, though nevertheless present surge of something that wasn't weary, or defeated, or angry. Something not quite warm, but also not born from those familiar feelings of malice or regret. If he dared to delude himself, he'd say it almost felt like something akin to hope.

His response was sent a few short seconds later. "I will."

---

His new home took some getting used to. For one, the space was much larger than what he was accustomed to. He also wasn't used to it being so quiet.

As such, he actively looked for excuses to get out of his apartment and busy himself. He'd already bought more than enough pre-made meals (and some groceries he tentatively planned on experimenting with) to last him the next week-plus, so the next best use of his time was visiting the library. After that, he decided on wandering aimlessly to get a better feel for his new locality. Briefly, he considered asking around for a few jobs, but thought better of it. While his conversational Japanese wasn't all that bad, he still wanted to brush up a bit to be absolutely sure he wouldn't trip over his own words when the time came.

With that in mind, he'd made a stop by a nearby bookstore to purchase a Japanese language phrasebook on his way home, briefly skimming it on his way up the stairs. Though he could manage to sound out and pronounce a few of the various common phrases he'd already been exposed to (and partially used on certain occasions), there were still plenty he'd yet to learn. The first few pages provided the list of Japanese syllabaries, which presented Eren with a quandary—did he expand his knowledge of necessary phrases first, or did he instead master more characters?

He rummaged around for his key as he continued browsing the book. Denny had given him a thorough rundown of hiragana during their shared days off, but he still wasn't the best with katakana or kanji. It dawned to him that he could perhaps utilize the internet to assist him; maybe there were some videos that could help, or maybe Denny or his girlfriend knew of a few good—

Something ran into Eren. Whatever it was jostled him from his thoughts, though his larger frame only slightly nudged him from his spot, while the mass—a person, Eren quickly assumed—had fallen down with a feminine yelp. Briefly, his military training took over and compelled him to quickly incapacitate whatever had assaulted him, and it took considerable effort to remind his body not to immediately assume the worst anymore. As it was, he'd only flinched and dropped his book, turning to look at whatever had run into him.

A woman. Or girl, maybe. She was short, however old she was. Their collision had dislodged what looked like books she'd been carrying as well as some articles of clothing, as Eren noted a displaced cap and pair of glasses. She was notable in that she came off as entirely unremarkable—her clothing was modest, her face unblemished, and her overall appearance generally homely and tidy. Her only distinguishing features were the long tresses of dark, purplish hair escaping her hood that shone almost pink in certain strands that the sunlight hit.

That was, until she looked up to him, and he was met with two startling bright eyes, glimmering like distant stars in place of irises. Eren found himself drawn into them unwittingly. Her gaze was alluring, and perhaps even hypnotizing—yet, there was a lingering feeling of hollow emptiness that he felt accompanied her gaze, to such an extent that it felt almost inhuman. As though she was looking not at him, but through him. Beyond him.

She'd said something in Japanese he hadn't caught. In lieu of a response, he opted to pick up one of her books—it loosely resembled what Denny had called a magazine, he recalled—and offered it back to her. Though he figured she wouldn't understand any of his English, he hoped the gesture would prove to convey enough of what he meant.

Even as he did so, he couldn't manage to tear himself away from her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

---

And, finished! If you managed to make it this far, I'm working on delivering you a medal for your perseverance and dedication. You deserve it after just under 30k words of setup and prologue.

Regardless, welcome to what might be my most ambitious story yet! For a very, very long time (years, not months), I've toyed with the idea of an Attack on Titan fic. It's my favorite show ever, featuring my favorite character in fiction, but I'd previously held myself back as I didn't know how I'd expand on a universe and story I thought was already perfect. In the end, I got over myself—I wanted to give myself a chance to write something about Eren as an ode to the profound effect he and Attack on Titan had on me growing up. To that end, I wanted to do something big, and something different, but I had no idea where to start.

Eventually, I landed on a crossover story, and not long after, I decided on Oshi No Ko as the setting in which to dump Eren in. I wanted to introduce Eren somewhere he couldn't solve all of his problems by traditionally stomping on them. And even more than that, I wanted to use it as a chance to really explore and expand upon Eren's mindset and character after the events of the series, and give him time to digest what he's done and what effects that would have on him in a world not currently engaged in war.

Beyond that, I started theorizing about how a potential crossover between Oshi No Ko's characters and setting with Eren would work. There is a delicious amount of potential there (that I fully intend on exploring), and an Eren and Ai pairing is the OTP I didn't know I needed to write about. Thus, this story was born, in part inspired by milkduds100's "A Second Chance" (go read that story). Though I'm sure folks will note parallels between our stories here and there, I hope I've made enough of a distinction in Eren's initial start in Japan to effectively differentiate between the two early on. Without revealing too much, that divergence will increase as this story progresses.

Again, thanks for giving this story a chance. Your support, as always, means the world to me, and I'm glad there are folks that enjoy my goofy little story ideas that I pump out with semi-regularity. Updates will, as always, be sporadic, but I'll do my best to keep the momentum going with this. I hope you'll stick around to see it through with me.

Last thing—in what is the first step to maybe eventually making this writing thing profitable, I've started up a Ko-fi account! Currently, there aren't any tiers or benefits or anything of that sort (at least not yet, I'm still brainstorming things I could eventually roll out), so for now it operates as a simple tip jar. If you've enjoyed this story, or any of my stories, feel free to drop a tip if you're financially able. With tips as low as a dollar, you can give a simple thanks, buy me a beer, or even pay me to never write again (currently 2,000 monthly, rates negotiable)! You can find my Ko-fi on my profile page. It's entirely optional, so don't feel obligated to donate, but I wanted to have the option open for anyone feeling charitable. Much like reviews, follows and favorites, it helps to keep me going.

That's all for now. Congrats again on making this far, and welcome to Curtainfall! See you next time!

~Slalem