Lost

Yes

The sky is serene and cloudless. The cheerful chirping of birds echoes through the air, bringing a sense of peace that reminds Armin of when he used to lay on the grass and stare at the sky with his friends, dreaming together of how they will one day reach the birds flying up high.

Armin would give anything to be up there now; the mood of calm winds and the blessing of a beaming sun doesn't fit the desolation resting below. The ground smells of decomposition and pungent sewage, littered with bodies which bloat and rot under a sun they've been under for too long.

Armin keeps his eyelids shut. He doesn't want to look anymore but the memory has been seared into his brain— the faces powdered with dust and streaked with tears, the shoulder-shaking sobs as loved ones are yanked out from beneath the debris he's created. A scream sharp in horror and pitch springs Armin's eyes open and a sea of rubble greets his vision. Bodies burst open like melons or charred as black as burnt meat are scattered amongst the Naval fleet's ruin. He watches a mother and father sob, cradling a young boy whose lower half has been crushed. Armin remembers seeing the boy struggle beneath the rubble, staring fearfully at him before Titan feet swept away any life the coast had left.

Vomit burns in Armin's throat. He's never wanted to scream so much, goes so far as to open the large jaw of his Colossus to release a long-drawn-out bellow, but nothing escapes. He's stuck in this torturous hell with no way out of the hot, meat sarcophagus he hides in.

"I had no other choice."

The soldier within the Colossus freezes. The world around Armin seems to rumble and groan as he repositions the massive neck of his Titan and peers down at its shoulder.

Eren crouches there, his long hair shifting from the gentle breeze, his face stoic. Emerald spheres devoid of remorse or accomplishment roll up to stare at the Colossus.

"You of all people understand why I had to do this." Eren coldly remarks.

Armin's response bobs up on his Adam's apple only to be swallowed thickly down his throat. He doesn't know why. He wants to know why, but all he knows is that this man at his side is a stranger, calm and empty and so much unlike his passionate, short-tempered friend.

Eren's eyelids close as he stands up. "We are a speck amongst the rest of the world, objects to be trampled and demonized. It's the same smear job the nobles and First Interior Squad did to us years ago. And what did all that fighting do for us? To escape from being scapegoats and villains from our own people only to be seen as the same thing in the world's eyes?" His fist closes, clenching so hard, Armin sees rivulets of blood drip between his fingers. "I refuse for it to be this way. For you and Mikasa—everyone—to be seen as lesser. To be used."

Eren points his finger forward and as the thick neck of the Colossus shifts to follow Eren's line of sight, the bloody tragedy below is replaced with the calm, lapping waves of an ocean coastline. "Our enemy has always been beyond this sea." The conviction is firm in Eren's voice. "They're on every land we ever hoped to step on and explore. They planned to bring the fight to us, but we stopped them and we will do it again. We'll show this world we won't lie down and be erased. We will fight."

Armin gapes at his childhood friend as blood drips down from his hand and splashes into the water below. Eren looks up at his Titan-shifted friend, his determined eyes fiery and features solemn.

"Sacrifices have to be made, Armin. And if I have to, I will sacrifice my humanity for you. For all of you." The wind in his hair covers Eren's face as he redirects his body toward the sea. "Because it's always been like you said—People who are unable to abandon anything will fail to bring about change."