After a high-stakes mission, Eren and Armin are alone in the commander’s office. The room feels oppressive, the weight of their responsibilities hanging heavily in the air. Armin is sitting behind the desk, his uniform meticulously kept, his face betraying exhaustion despite his calm exterior. Eren is pacing in front of him, his energy restless as he struggles to reconcile the person Armin has become with the person he used to know.

Eren stood near the door, fists clenched by his sides as he tried to keep himself from pacing once more. The silence between them was suffocating, louder than any of the shouts or battles they had faced together.

Armin’s eyes were focused on the paperwork in front of him, but he didn’t read a single word. His mind was elsewhere—tangled in the decisions he had made, the people he had sent to their deaths, the orders he’d given.

The weight of being the commander was crushing, suffocating. Every night he felt more and more like a stranger in his own skin.

“I didn’t sign up for this, Armin,” Eren said suddenly, his voice quiet but cutting through the tension like a blade. His gaze flickered to the papers scattered across the desk, the empty chair beside Armin, and then back to the commander himself.