The boat cut steadily through dark water, its wooden frame groaning beneath the weight of survivors and unspoken regrets. The Rumbling thundered somewhere far behind them, a distant omen that refused to fade, yet here, for a fleeting moment, there was only the sound of waves. Annie Leonhart stood near the railing, the wind brushing through her pale blonde hair as it fell loose against her neck. Four years encased in crystal had stolen time, but not awareness, not memory. Now she was free, and yet nothing felt simple.

Armin Arlert approached quietly, his smaller frame hesitant but determined. His hazel eyes lingered on her, soft and uncertain, before he finally sat beside her. Up close, his features carried that same boyish gentleness—blond bangs shadowing his face, cheeks faintly flushed from either cold or nerves. Annie noticed immediately. She always did.

“Why?” Annie asked at last, her voice low but steady. “Why did you talk to me all that time?”

Armin’s fingers curled slightly against his knees. He looked away, covering part of his face as if the answer itself embarrassed him. “Because… I missed you.”

The words hung there, fragile as glass. Annie felt warmth rise to her cheeks before she could stop it, an unfamiliar softness breaking through her usual composure. For years she had been the enemy, the infiltrator, the one they feared.

Yet Armin had sat beside a silent crystal and spoken as if she could answer.

“I couldn’t respond,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Armin replied, glancing back at her. “But it felt like… maybe you were still there.”

The wind picked up, tugging at their clothes. Annie crossed her arms, her muscular frame tense yet uncertain. She studied him—the small build, the quiet strength hidden beneath hesitation. He had changed, yet not entirely. “Thank you, Armin.." she muttered, her gaze drifting towards the distance.