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Introduction by Armin Arlert
Twilight settles over the remnants of our world. For once, there is no battle to fight, no mission to complete—only memories waiting to be heard.
When I was a child, I used to dream of the ocean—of what lay beyond the walls. I believed there was something beautiful out there, something worth all the fear and sacrifice. But I never imagined how much it would cost to reach it.
This isn’t history. These moments didn’t happen. But they could have. If time had paused long enough for healing. If hearts had opened before swords were drawn.
What you’re about to witness are conversations between those who were never allowed to speak freely. Between the parts of ourselves we lock away—regret, longing, and love we were too afraid to show.
Maybe in another life, we said these words.
And maybe, just maybe, they echo now because they still matter.
(Note: This is an imaginary conversation, a creative exploration of an idea, and not a real speech or event.)
Eren Talks to His Younger Self
Setting: A grassy hill just outside Shiganshina, golden light of late afternoon washing over the rooftops. The wind blows gently. A lone tree stands at the top of the hill. A boy—young Eren Yeager, age 10—sits beneath it, watching clouds. Then, silently, an older version of him approaches: long hair, tired eyes, a weight no child should bear.
Young Eren:
(Without turning)
You’re not from here, are you?
Older Eren:
(Sitting beside him)
I am. I was. You could say that.
Young Eren:
(Tilting his head)
You look like me… but sadder.
Older Eren:
I’ve seen too much. Done too much.
(Silence)
You’re still dreaming of freedom, aren’t you?
Young Eren:
Yeah. Someday, I’m gonna see the ocean. I’ll kill all the Titans. And I’ll be free.
(Smiles brightly)
Mikasa and Armin will come too.
Older Eren:
(Smiling bitterly)
You’ll get there. You’ll see it. But freedom... isn’t what you think it is.
Young Eren:
What do you mean?
Older Eren:
Sometimes... freedom means choosing between two cages. And sometimes, the price of freedom is everything you love.
(Sighs)
Do you still hate Titans?
Young Eren:
Of course! They’re monsters. They took Mom. They’re the enemy!
Older Eren:
(Turning to him)
What if I told you... they’re just people too? Victims, like us. Tools of war.
Young Eren:
(Looks confused)
...Then who’s the real enemy?
Older Eren:
(Softly)
That’s the question I asked until the very end.
The wind grows stronger. Distant echoes of battle cries fade in and out like ghosts.
Young Eren:
You sound tired. Did you win?
Older Eren:
No one wins in a world like ours.
(Long pause)
But I made sure you could be born. That your friends could live—at least for a little while.
Young Eren:
You’re making it sound like we lose.
Older Eren:
(Quietly, with a tear in his eye)
Sometimes we don’t live to see the freedom we fight for.
Young Eren:
(Standing up, angry)
But I don’t want that! I want to live free—now! Not later!
Older Eren:
(Standing, facing him)
You will fight. You will scream. You will believe. And one day… you will understand.
(Softer now)
Even if the world calls you a monster.
Young Eren:
(Voice trembling)
Are you a monster?
Older Eren:
(Long silence)
...I became one. To keep a promise.
(Looks away)
Even if it meant everyone would hate me.
Young Eren:
Why would you do that?
Older Eren:
Because I loved you. I loved Mikasa. I loved Armin. I loved freedom.
Young Eren:
...Did she love you back?
Older Eren:
(Smiling through the pain)
Yes. Enough to let me go.
A quiet stillness settles over them. The wind dies. Birds circle overhead.
Young Eren:
If you could do it again... would you change anything?
Older Eren:
(Looking up at the clouds)
No.
(Pause)
...But I’d hold her hand one more time.
Armin, Erwin, and Hange Debate the Value of a Life
Setting: A dim, timeless war room in the afterlife. Dust floats in the still air. Flickering lanterns cast soft light on a long wooden table. Three chairs are occupied—Armin Arlert, Hange Zoë, and Erwin Smith—each staring at a map that no longer matters. No uniforms. No Titans. Just memory and quiet reckoning.
Hange Zoë:
(Laughs softly, kicking her feet up)
So. The three of us. Dead and dissecting philosophy. How poetic.
Erwin Smith:
(Straightforward)
We never did get to rest. Not really.
Armin Arlert:
(Quietly)
Maybe now we can ask the questions that haunted us most… without worrying about survival.
Hange:
Like why you lived, and Erwin didn’t?
Armin:
(Nods, hesitant)
I ask myself every day. Why me? Why the kid with theories over the man with a dream?
Erwin:
(Looking at Armin)
You had a future. I had... ghosts.
Hange:
(Grinning sadly)
Still, if we’re being real, Erwin—you wanted to live. You wanted to know the truth, didn’t you?
Erwin:
Yes. More than anything.
(Looks down)
But I passed that burden to you, Armin. The truth... and its consequences.
Armin:
I tried to live up to it. But I never stopped feeling like a fraud. I led people into death. I hesitated when I should have acted. I...
Hange:
(Suddenly firm)
Don’t do that. Don’t reduce your life to regrets. You saved people. You stopped Eren. You chose peace, when everyone else chose fire.
Erwin:
Leadership demands sacrifice. The question is: was it worth it?
Armin:
Is any sacrifice worth it if the future still ends in blood?
Hange:
(Shrugging)
Maybe it’s not about worth. Maybe it’s about who carries the story forward. Who remembers. Who learns.
Erwin:
But isn’t it cruel? That one life gets picked over another. That I, with all my flaws and fire, was left behind?
Armin:
Sometimes I think... it was because you knew how to lead the dying. And I had to learn how to lead the living.
Hange:
Wow. That hit harder than expected.
The lantern flickers. For a moment, it feels like Levi is somewhere nearby, just out of sight.
Erwin:
Armin. If you could choose again—me or you?
Armin:
(Swallows hard)
You.
(Pause)
But if I could choose again knowing what I’ve seen... I’d still try to change the ending. I’d still try to save everyone.
Hange:
(Softly)
And that’s why you were the right choice. Because you keep trying—even after all of us gave up.
A silence stretches between them. A peace not found in battle, but in the sharing of burden.
Hange:
Maybe the value of a life... isn’t measured in how loud it ends. But in how gently it echoes.
Erwin:
(Quiet smile)
Then let’s keep echoing.
Mikasa Confronts Eren in a Dream World
Setting: A quiet, snow-dusted cabin in the mountains—Eren’s imagined retreat, far from war. A fire crackles gently in the hearth. Outside, everything is still. Mikasa steps inside slowly, as if entering a memory. Eren is already there, seated at the table, staring into the flames. No rumbling. No Titans. Just the space where a “what if” still breathes.
Mikasa:
(Softly)
So… this is where you wanted to disappear to?
Eren:
(Nods, without turning)
Yeah. Just you and me. For four years. The world forgotten.
Mikasa:
(Stepping forward)
But you didn’t let it happen.
Eren:
Because it was never real.
Mikasa:
It could have been. If you had told us everything. Trusted us.
Eren:
(Quiet)
If I had… more people would’ve died. Maybe you too.
Mikasa:
And instead, you carried it all. Alone. And you still died.
Eren:
(Closes his eyes)
Better me than you.
Mikasa:
(Whispers)
That’s not your choice to make.
A long silence. Only the fire speaks, casting warm shadows against the wooden walls.
Mikasa:
I want to ask you something. And I need the truth this time.
Eren:
(Turns to face her, voice barely a whisper)
Ask.
Mikasa:
Did you love me?
Eren:
(Breaths sharply through his nose, pain flickering in his eyes)
Yes. More than anything.
(Pause)
But I was afraid. That if I held on, I wouldn’t let go. I wouldn’t be able to do what had to be done.
Mikasa:
So you chose the world over me?
Eren:
(Sighs)
I chose you by choosing the world. So you could live in it. Free.
Mikasa:
But freedom without you…
(Steps closer)
Wasn't the life I wanted.
Eren:
(Murmurs)
I know. And still… you were the one who set me free in the end.
Mikasa:
You put that burden on me.
Eren:
You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. Even stronger than me.
Mikasa kneels beside him. Her hand trembles as she reaches for his.
Mikasa:
If I had said the words back then… if I had told you I loved you, would you have stayed?
Eren:
(Chokes on the answer)
Yes.
Mikasa:
(Silence, then a tear)
Then I’m sorry. For waiting too long.
Eren:
No. Don’t be. You saved me, Mikasa. Even when I didn't deserve it. Even at the very end.
She leans her head on his shoulder. The warmth between them, fleeting and fragile, fills the quiet.
Mikasa:
I still see you, sometimes. In the birds. In the breeze. In dreams like this.
Eren:
That’s where I’ll live now. Always near you.
Mikasa:
(Soft smile)
Even if it’s not real… thank you. For this moment.
Reiner and Falco Talk Across Generations
Setting: A war-ravaged plain outside what once was Liberio. The grass is scorched, the buildings distant silhouettes of crumbling stone. A sunset burns low on the horizon. Reiner sits atop a broken wall, armored hands resting on his knees. Falco, now older—no longer a boy—approaches quietly, carrying two steaming cups of tea.
Falco:
(Offering a cup)
Still like it bitter?
Reiner:
(Smiling faintly)
I got used to the taste. It matches the memories.
Falco:
(Sits beside him)
I still can’t believe all of this is over. Titans. Marley. The walls. It all feels like a bad dream someone else had.
Reiner:
(Solemn)
It was a dream. And a nightmare. And we were its pieces.
Falco:
I wanted to talk to you about... being a Warrior. About what it meant to you.
(Pause)
And what it means to me.
A breeze rolls over the field. Smoke rises faintly in the distance from reconstruction efforts.
Reiner:
You were always kinder than me, Falco. Always saw people first—before flags, bloodlines, or orders.
Falco:
I saw you, Reiner. The pain in your eyes. The moments you almost broke.
(Softer)
I didn’t understand then. But I do now.
Reiner:
(Sipping tea)
They trained us to be weapons. Gave us a cause to die for before we even knew what it meant to live.
Falco:
Were you ever proud of what you did?
Reiner:
(Pause)
Proud? No. But I convinced myself it was right. For Marley. For honor. For my mother.
(Looks down)
Even when I saw innocent people dying, I told myself the mission mattered more.
Falco:
And now?
Reiner:
Now I wonder how many “missions” have buried children. How many justifications became graves.
Falco:
I became a Titan too. But I swore I'd be different. That I’d protect, not destroy.
Reiner:
And you did. You gave the next generation a chance.
(Smiles faintly)
You even flew.
Falco:
(Laughs softly)
Yeah. A bird Titan. How ironic, right? After all that fighting for freedom... I had to become a monster to finally touch the sky.
A moment of silence. They watch as a child in the distance chases a paper kite, the sky now free of warships.
Reiner:
Falco, do you ever feel the weight? The guilt? The question—why did I live?
Falco:
Every day. But I try to carry it with grace. For those who can’t anymore.
Reiner:
Then you’ve already surpassed me.
Falco:
No. I’m only here because you didn’t give up. Even when you wanted to die, you stayed—for us.
Reiner:
(Quietly)
Sometimes, I see the faces. Marco. Bertholdt. The kids in the walls. I wonder what they’d say if they saw us now.
Falco:
I think they’d ask us to stop blaming ourselves. And start living like their lives meant something.
Reiner:
(Smiles, looking up at the clouds)
Maybe this cursed bloodline can heal. Through you. Through those who remember without hate.
Ymir Fritz and Historia Share One Final Conversation
Setting: The quiet, glowing realm of the Paths—endless space shaped by memory and emotion. Pale branches float like veins through a blue-gold void. Historia walks through it barefoot, drawn by a presence both ancient and sad. Ahead stands a girl: Ymir Fritz, the First Titan, barefoot in chains only she can feel. Her eyes are deep oceans of silence. They face each other beneath the towering branches of time.
Historia:
(Softly)
I’ve wanted to speak with you for a long time.
Ymir Fritz:
(Tilts her head)
You know who I am?
Historia:
Yes. The girl who began it all.
(Pause)
The girl who was never allowed to be one.
Ymir:
(Hollow voice)
I served. I obeyed. I gave everything.
(Smiles faintly)
And they called me a devil.
Historia:
And yet… you never spoke. Never fought back.
Ymir:
Because I believed… if I gave everything, someone would love me. That I could belong.
Historia:
(Kneels in front of her)
I’ve felt that too. That I had to play a role to be seen. A queen. A puppet. A tool.
(Small breath)
But I wanted to love myself anyway.
The space between them hums with memory—scenes of Marleyan cruelty, chains of obedience, fragments of little girls crying into the earth.
Ymir:
I watched them all. You. Eren. Zeke. My descendants.
(Pause)
But I never chose. Until the end.
Historia:
Because of Mikasa?
Ymir:
Because she loved without condition. And let go, even when it broke her.
Historia:
(Smiles softly)
And that showed you love isn’t about serving. It’s about freeing.
Ymir:
(Finally looks up, eyes shimmering)
I was never free. Not in life. Not in death.
(Pause)
Until someone said no for me.
Historia:
You deserved better. Not power. Not worship. Just a chance to be a girl who could laugh. Cry. Run.
(Steps forward)
Let me say it for you now.
(Whispers)
You were not a curse. You were a child.
Ymir:
(Voice trembling)
Then… why did I curse the world?
Historia:
Because pain can echo for generations. But so can healing.
A gentle wind rustles the branches of the Paths. Ymir’s chains begin to shimmer—then fade. Not broken. Released.
Ymir:
(Smiling for the first time)
Will they remember me? As more than the monster?
Historia:
Yes. I will. And I’ll teach our children the truth.
(Pause)
That it’s okay to stop being strong. To stop being silent.
Ymir reaches forward and touches Historia’s cheek—a gesture of farewell and gratitude.
Ymir:
Then I can rest now.
Historia:
Go. Be that little girl again. The one who ran free through the forest. Not the one who fed trees with her sorrow.
Final Thoughts by Armin Arlert
Now the voices fade. The conversations end. But something remains—soft as breath, sharp as memory.
Eren once asked what freedom really meant.
Back then, I thought it was about breaking walls, crossing oceans.
Now, I think freedom is the ability to face the truth. To sit with your past—not to rewrite it, but to understand it.
In these imagined moments, I saw people not as soldiers or devils or heroes… but as human beings, reaching across silence.
If you felt something reading these scenes—grief, peace, maybe even hope—then those words lived after all.
And that’s the start of something.
Maybe not a new world.
But a better way to remember the one we lost.
Epilogue: A Silent Circle Beneath the Stars
They gather again—not by command, not by fate, but by something gentler. A longing. A breath.
The battlefield is gone now. What’s left is a field of tall grass, swaying under a sky painted with stardust and quiet wind. Five chairs form a circle in the center—worn, patient, waiting.
Eren appears first, tired eyes softening as he watches his younger self arrive barefoot and curious. They sit beneath a tree that never grew during the war—its leaves trembling with memory.
Armin walks in with a lantern. Erwin follows, no longer weighed down by war. They don’t argue anymore. They just sit, side by side, looking toward a world that’s finally out of reach.
Mikasa steps through next. Her scarf is gone. She takes Eren’s hand—not to stop him, not to save him—but to be with him, as he is.
Reiner and Falco join, sitting with quiet dignity. No longer warriors. Just men who saw too much, who still chose to live.
And then Ymir walks through the Paths. No chains. No silence. Historia welcomes her not as a queen, but as a friend. They sit beneath branches of light that weave like constellations.
No one speaks. They don’t need to.
Together, they form something that never existed in life—a circle not of strategy, but of shared peace.
And above them, the stars shimmer—half gold, half blood-red.
A sky of memory.
A sky of forgiveness.
Eren Yeager
A boy driven by a burning desire for freedom, Eren’s journey transforms him from an idealistic soldier to a tragic anti-hero. His relentless pursuit of liberation leads him to embrace terrifying choices, forcing the world—and himself—to confront what freedom truly costs.
Mikasa Ackerman
Loyal, powerful, and emotionally guarded, Mikasa is Eren’s protector and closest friend. Beneath her stoic exterior lies deep love and quiet suffering. She grapples with identity beyond duty, and ultimately makes the hardest choice out of love.
Armin Arlert
A strategic genius and the moral compass of the series, Armin seeks peace in a world built on war. His idealism is matched by sharp intellect, and he often questions what kind of future humanity deserves—and what price it should pay for it.
Erwin Smith
Commander of the Scout Regiment, Erwin is a brilliant and fearless leader haunted by sacrifice. His obsession with uncovering the truth drives him to make unthinkable decisions, always bearing the weight of lives lost for a dream he might never see.
Hange Zoë
Curious, eccentric, and fiercely compassionate, Hange blends science with empathy. As a Titan researcher turned commander, she seeks understanding over destruction and becomes a symbol of courage through knowledge, even in the face of doom.
Reiner Braun
A warrior torn between duty and guilt, Reiner embodies the tragedy of war. Living as both a soldier and enemy, his psychological torment is deep, yet he continues on for the sake of those who still believe in him—and for redemption he may never reach.
Falco Grice
Young, kind-hearted, and unexpectedly brave, Falco inherits the future of the Titans. Despite his youth, he sees the cruelty in the cycle of hatred and becomes a symbol of hope for change through empathy and action—not violence.
Ymir Fritz
The first Titan and the origin of all Titan power, Ymir lived a life of silence and servitude. Her pain echoes through history, but her soul yearned not for revenge, but for love. Only at the end does she find the courage to choose her own path.
Historia Reiss
Once a pawn in royal politics, Historia discovers her strength as a queen and as a human being. Her compassion for Ymir and willingness to carry heavy burdens reflect her quiet resolve to shape a better future, even at great personal cost.
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