"Why?"

Eren stirred from his nap, his head leaving Kuroka's shoulder to sit up straight on the bench. He had been awake for a few minutes, just laying there lazily. Otherwise, she would have let him rest longer.

With summer drawing to a close soon, and with it the return of the Shirone's Peerage, Kuroka could no longer delay the question. One that she thought could go without asking but continued to torment her as the days passed.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you leave, nyaa?"

"... I told you. I found this bench when I checked on Shirone."

"I don't mean why did you stay here, nyaa," Kuroka clarified, hand running through his long hair. "I understand that your powers... I understand wanting some peace. But why did you not tell us where you were?"

Why hadn't he told her?

Throughout the entire summer, Kuroka had repeatedly asked herself the question. 

Early on, when he had first disappeared, she had entertained the possibility that Eren had decided to betray both the Brigade and her, abandoning them as his 'death' drew closer. She had feared he had gone off to die alone in some forgotten corner of the world. 

Vali telling her of Eren's location and his continued commitment to his promises had put that fear to rest for the most part.

Then, a more worrying and personal reason had come to mind.

Had it been her that was the problem?

Kuroka knew what type of woman she was and had no desire to change that, but there was always niggling doubt in everyone's mind when with someone you love.

Am I the problem? Am I being too pushy with my desires? Has this relationship become one-sided? Does he not care about me like I care about him?

Even though she knew that to be false, Kuroka couldn't help the fear she felt.

The last few weeks had largely put those fears to rest as well.

Eren still remained the same man he had always been with her. Hesitant to show physical affection, but not put off by it so long as it didn't become smothering. 

If anything, Eren had become even more open with Kuroka now that he didn't have to worry about continually reliving their interactions every moment, past and future.

So, why then had he left?

"I wasn't needed anymore," Eren shrugged. A casual gesture that, if Kuroka didn't know him so well, would have fooled her. "All the factions had been cowed. I left instructions for those that needed them, and it was just a matter of waiting till the world and other pieces of the plan would fall into place without my involvement."

His voice and the slight tremble in his spirit gave it away.

The subtle undercurrent of hesitancy and... shame?

He was lying to her.

Why?

Eren never lied to her. He wouldn't talk about specific topics, but he never lied.

Not to her.

So why now?

"That's why you didn't tell our mooks," Kuroka pointed out with a pout. "You could have told me or Vali, nyaa."

Eren remained stubbornly, infuriatingly, silent.

"You were always planning on leaving," Kuroka pressed. "That's how your powers work. While this bench might be a blind spot, you would know there was a hole in your memory, even if you didn't know where. From the first day we met, you knew you'd leave. Just like you knew I'd make your cane." 

"I... did," Eren nodded hesitantly.

"And, nyaat once, did you think of telling me you'd leave for over a year?"

There was heat in her voice, Kuroka realized. One she hadn't intended to let slip. 

It had just boiled out. 

A year of worry, of fear, of feeling betrayed.

For an instant of clarity, Kuroka suddenly realized this was a tiny fraction of what Shirone must have felt.

Had that been Eren's goal? To give Kuroka a fraction of the pain her sister had felt? Was this a necessary part of the promise to have them reunited?

As always, knowing what was planned and what was coincidence was impossible with Eren, even if his powers were now limited.

"Why, huh," Eren grunted, fists clenching. "I've been asking myself that a lot lately. Why? I know what will happen. I know the cause, the effect. I know the Path. But why do I walk it?"

"You aren't answering my question," Kuroka scowled. "You didn't have to tell me where you were. I just needed to know you were alive. So why didn't you?"

"Why do I do a lot of things," Eren asked himself rhetorically, looking forlorn. Listless. "I never had this problem before, you know? I always knew why. For every single step I took, every terrible deed and evil I committed, I knew why. I was certain of it. Now..."

"Stop running away from the question!"

"...unning away."

"Nyaa?"

"I was running away!" The Titan snapped, hands tightening around his cane. "You want to know why? So do I! But I don't! So I ran!"

"Nyaa!?" Kuroka flinched at the outburst.

"I want to know why!" Eren's cane slammed into the ground with enough force to shake the bench. "Why am I here? Why was I reborn in this world? Why do I still have this damn power? Why have I done all this? Why will I..."

Eren didn't finish the question, shaking his head frantically, face set in a snarl of frustration.

"You want to know why I left you? Because I gave up. I've done everything! Everything! All that's left is the final step. And I don't know why yet!"

Eren gripped his head, hands tightening in his hair in frustration. 

"I know there's a reason. There has to be a reason. This bench only blocks one part of my power, not the one that lets me know my own memories. What I know will definitely happen. The only reason I can't see them is because I am preventing myself from seeing them. I know knowing it ahead of time will prevent me from reaching that future. But why is that terrible future something I want? Why have I done all this? Will do it, have done it, am doing it? GAH!! I don't even know anymore!!"

"But," Kuroka hesitated, unsure what to do in this situation. Eren had never snapped at her like this. He looked... confused. Frustrated. Angry. Ashamed. "Haven't you already lived it, nyaa?"

"I have!" Eren growled from clenched teeth. "I know I can't change the future I've lived. I tried. I tried so hard last time. But I can't. But I promised myself, from that first moment in the Path, that I won't do it until I know why!"

Eren's fist slammed into the arm of the bench in his anger. Unenhanced by Touki, it was the arm of a regular human, his flesh split on the metal, blood flowing.

He hit the bench again.

"So I set everything up to work without me and left. I left to look for this damn bench! And I wasn't going to come back. You, Vali, my plans, my promises, all of it. I ran away. I was going to leave it behind! All for this damn bench. I will not leave it until I know why!"

Kuroka had never seen her lover so angry. So passionate. 

So... scared.

He had used violence and rage before to cow devils, dragons, and all sorts of monsters to his cause. But it was all chaneled. Limited.

Not like this.

This was why he had lied.

He was ashamed of his weakness.

Eren dropped his cane. The wood clattered, and Kuroka flinched again at the sound.

Turning in his seat, he seized Kuroka's shoulders tightly and looked at her directly, blood staining her kimono. 

She couldn't see them clearly, but his bandages had loosened slightly when he had grabbed his head, and she could see his eyes. 

Kuroka didn't want to see his eyes. Not now, not like this.

Not as they stared at her in confusion, anger, horror, and shame.

Not with the wet tracks that lined his cheeks or the way his mouth was contorted into a grimace of extreme grief.

Her Senjustu and the connection they shared told her what the face meant.

It was rage.

It was fear.

It was hatred.

It was guilt.

It was a self-loathing so deep that it had Kuroka seeing stars.

"Why am I doing this?" Eren begged for an answer. One Kuroka didn't have. "I don't know why I exist. Why I am here. What am I always the one who has to do these terrible things? What I'll do, it's worse than the Rumbling. What I will inflict on this world is the worst fate I can imagine. So why, dammit!? Why was I smiling?"

The rage left. Eren sagged, still holding Kuroka's shoulders, and he collapsed against her chest.

"Why? Why am I doing this to this world," Eren cried. "You don't deserve this. They don't deserve this. So why am I always the one who has to do these things? Am I really just the Devil?"

He sat there, pouring his emotions out on a bloody and wet kimono.

Awkwardly, Kuroka held him. 

She didn't say anything. 

She didn't know what to say.

Kuroka didn't know what the 'Rumbling' was. 

Kuroka didn't know why Eren's plan was so bad in his eyes. To her, it was a great plan. 

Kuroka didn't know why Eren was struggling so much with this now, so close to the end.

Kuroka didn't know so much.

But she thought she knew Eren Yeager.

Now, Kuroka realized, she had only known a part of him.

As long as she had known Eren Yeager, he had never been... this. 

This sobbing wreck of a man.

For the first time since they had met so many years ago, Eren Yeager resembled and acted like the young boy she knew he must have been at one point.

Kuroka had a second realization. 

This was what Eren had always been.

For the first few years they had known each other, Kuroka had thought Eren to be an emotionless machine. An automaton is marching forward towards a single goal without caring who he trampled over to get there.

There was some truth to that, as Eren did not shy away from violence in the least.

But that wasn't who Eren Yeager truly was.

Kuroka had thought she understood his burden. She had been the only one he had told the true extent of his power, and she had thought she understood the price of that power.

She had been wrong.

Kuroka was confident she was the only one who could see the truth. She was the only one who had seen Erin at the peak of his power, and now, when he was little more of a threat than a regular Ultimate class devil.

She only saw who Eren truly was by seeing him when he was at his most powerless. His most weak and pathetic.

Eren was just a man. 

He was just human. 

He had an extraordinary power, which she knew for sure, but Eren himself? 

He was no genius, someone with an inviolate willpower, or even a great general. 

He was just a boy who gained power and sought to create a world in the only way he knew how: through violence.

It was such a revelation to Kuroka.

Eren was... human.

Not a Yokai. Not a devil, angel, or fallen. Not a god or a hero.

Eren was just a man.

More than that, Eren was a man of emotions. A man of rage, sorrow, yearning, and regret.

Kuroka had seen the darker emotions, the rage and fury before. He had used it to bend some of the most powerful beings in the world to his will. 

But Kuroka had thought it had just been another part of the plan, a calculated outburst.

After all, he never showed any other emotions.

But she had mistaken the cause and effect.

Eren hadn't allowed himself to feel any other emotion, to express any of the deeper currents that twirled within him, because if he did it once, he would always be living that moment, constantly feeling that collapse of will.

If he allowed himself to reach his lowest point, he'd always be at that lowest point.

And he wouldn't be able to walk forward if he was always at his lowest point.

Eren Yeager needed to walk forward.

Even if he didn't know why.

So Kuroka held her lover close for long minutes as he regained his center.

He must have been holding it in for years.

Eren broke the silence first, pulling away from her to collapse bonelessly against the bench.

"Sorry."

"For what, nyaa?"

"That I am using you."

The voice, so familiar in its lack of emotions, hurt Kuroka's heart just as much as the tears.

"I know." Kuroka's voice was soft and full of love. "You told me." 

That first day they had met, when Eren had extended a hand to her, he had said as much. Warned her that he'd use her.

"I am using you too."

Kuroka had laughed and warned him she would use him in turn.

A tool to escape her pursuers, a defender against those hunting Black Cat Kuroka and a tool to reunite her with Shirone. 

They had used each other. They were still using each other.

Kuroka thought she understood the exchange when they first made the deal.

She hadn't. 

She, after all, couldn't see the future.

Kuroka had realized how deeply Eren had used her only years later when it had been too late. When the shackles of love had been placed tight around her wrists and neck.

Yet Kuroka also realized that... she was alright with that.

Kuroka was different from Eren Yeager. 

She'd give up freedom for love.

It had been Kuroka who had offered to use Bouchujutsu to reinforce his flagging life force, trying to buy him more time. Eren had never asked her to, had told her it wouldn't heal him, but it had been Kuroka's choice.

That had been the important part.

Eren knew she would make the offer, though he never asked. He had always known she would come to him that night. 

He had known he would accept and what would come of it.

He had seen, lived through, and remembered her offer, her touch, long before they had ever met.

It was probably one of the reasons he had sought her out.

Eren was manipulating her. Kuroka knew that before she offered herself to the man.

Love and an almost fatalistic resignation had compelled her. 

Eren could see her choices, but he couldn't make them for her.

What happened when they became one, when Kuroka shared her power, body, and heart with Eren, solidified Kuroka's feelings.

Kuroka had not managed to heal him, just as he knew she wouldn't, but she did connect to Eren through their mingling of Ki. Bouchujutsu was the mingling of Ki, of lifeforce.

When two masters of Senjutsu joined in such a way, it went well beyond the physical. 

For that instant, their lives had been one, and she'd seen what he saw.

The Path.

That place where time passed infinitely in an instant.

Eren experienced every moment of his life all at once, but the Path was different. 

In that space of towering dunes and blue light, with its lonely tree without branches, things happened as they should, one after another.

And Kuroka had been there with him for so, so long.

She didn't know what they talked about or what they did there. They might have already had this conversation already, and she had forgotten. Maybe lifetimes of conversations and moments. 

Maybe Eren had told her he would leave to find this bench, to find out why he was in this world. Maybe Eren had talked about his past, dreams, fears, and love.

Maybe they hadn't talked at all, just sitting together for countless years that passed in an instant.

It was hazy, half-remembered, like a fever dream. There was too much there and too little. Kuroka could only hold on to an impression, a foggy dream, because she was not part of the Path. Not really. 

A guest, but she was not part of that world.

It was not her Path.

But the impression of that place had seared itself into her soul.

"It doesn't make it right," Eren grunted, his voice dead of any inflection, even as he drowned himself in self-hatred. "But I did it anyway. Because I needed people to die for me! Again!"

"We knew what we were getting into, nyaa," Kuroka argued back passionately, tails waving in a frenzy. "We all did. You never lied to us about that."

"Again and again," Eren repeated, staring blankly skyward. "More children for my wars. More blood at my feet. More corpses for the road."

"They know they are dying for something, something they believe in. And you gave them something no one else has. Confirmation of success. They can die for you because they know the Titan will bring their dream to life." 

Despite her words, Eren still lay there. Like he was empty.

But he wasn't. 

That was the problem.

Eren cared.

He tried not to. Tried to keep himself distant and aloof. Tried to wrap himself in apathy.

But Eren wasn't a man who could be detached from emotion.

He cared deeply. About her. About Vali. 

About those whom he was leading into damnation.

Not equally. 

The subordinates he never met knew were needles in his heart. The comrades he saw every day were arrows of guilt. Vali and his team were swords piercing his chest.

Kuroka?

Eren cared for her more than anyone else in this new life, at least at the time of their joining. Kuroka remembered feeling that clearly in the Path. 

It was the care, the love, of a mortal man. 

One who had lived an entire lifetime, short as it was, with Kuroka before she had ever met him. 

Every second he lived, Eren felt Kuroka's touch. Every moment, he heard her whispers of love well before she uttered them.

He manipulated her, choosing the end goal and leading them both towards it.

That didn't mean he didn't feel every step.

For the same reason, he could not talk about the past, for he would constantly relive the pain, and so too had Eren always cared about her. 

Because he had seen their every moment together, he had lived it for every second of his life.

Eren loved her. 

Kuroka had been a hundred percent sure of that in that moment of union. It had pervaded that Path so wholly that it might as well have been written in the stars.

It was what had made his disappearance so heartbreaking.

Kuroka didn't know exactly how long she spent in the Path, in the half second of connection, that first time.

All she knew was that it was long enough to gain a third tail.

It was easy to convince Eren that they needed to repeat the experience. He hadn't even argued against it. As Senjutsu users, they both gained power by the exchange and mixing of Ki.

The act itself felt wonderful. The connection, the feelings, all of it had been the most peaceful Kuroka had ever felt.

More than that, though, it had been necessary.

It turned Eren's already large reserves for a human into something that rivalled gods at his peak as he drew Ki from a supremely talented senjutsu user, refined it with endless practice, and used it as an arrow to pierce his enemies' necks. 

Kuroka gaining more tails was also a boon, meaning Eren had a more helpful lieutenant. Her passing years in the Path, in an instant, turned a millennia-long process into something that lasted a heartbeat. She couldn't gain such power too often; most of her training was spent controlling the increase, but it turned millennia of effort into months.

And every time they joined, two masters of Bouchujutsu, they grew in power by magnitudes.

Without that power, without each other, they would not have been able to reign in some of the absolute monsters that now worked with the Brigade. There was no way those bastards would have followed a human unless under threat.

But the cost had been steep, Kuroka had realized.

That had been why the future Eren desired had Kuroka in it. He had needed her power. To get that power, he needed to be with her. If he was with her, Eren would come to care.

A vicious cycle, one where Eren manipulated himself as much as everyone else.

Which had come first, she had wondered.

Had Eren decided the goal and then fallen in love?

Or had he fallen in love and chosen a future where they'd be together?

Or had both happened simultaneously, an instant and a lifetime.

Did it matter?

Not to Kuroka.

Eren had come to care for the woman he was supposed to manipulate.

He was only human, after all.

Kuroka never spoke of the truth of her revelations. She never would. For if she spoke it in any timeline Eren looked at, there was a possibility he would know.

Know what she felt when they joined. When her soul and life mixed with his.

And if he knew, he'd know she would never let him die.

"This world, it's terrible," Kuroka tried to reassure him. "So many are mocked, used, thrown away, enslaved, and killed because they don't have power. This world is hell to the weak. You will change that. They die for you, not because you are manipulating them. They know their fate, just like I know it. You told us. They die for you because you give them hope for a world that isn't hell."

"Hell?" Eren tasted the word as if never having heard it before. Then he shook his head as he spoke slowly. "You're wrong. This world isn't hell. It's terrible, but it isn't hell. The world I'll make will be hell. I know that. I know what I have to do. Because I am remaking my world. My hell! I've become the exact person I hate the most, and I don't even know why!"

Eren gripped his head with both hands again, doubling over as if trying to tear thoughts from his head.

He was shaking.

In rage, in hatred, in sorrow, or in fear, Kuroka didn't know.

"Do I die?"

Eren froze. His shaking stopped, but his head remained bowed.

"No."

"Does Shirone?"

"...I don't know. I can't see her."

"If I am alive, Shinronyaa won't die," Kuroka stated. It was a fact. So long as she lived, her sister would too. Then her voice softened, and she hesitated. "But you can only see until you... until the end, right?"

"Yes. I am the only one on the Path. Nobody has come before or will come after."

"So you don't know what will happen after you... after you die." The words tasted like ash in her mouth.

"I do. Because I know people. People repeat the same mistakes. Over and over. There is no escaping it," Eren denied, sitting back up and facing the reincarnated devil. "Even after I die, I know what will happen. I've seen it in my world. And the people of this world are no different. Race doesn't matter. People are the same everywhere. What I am going to do... The world that I will build... I've seen it all before. I've lived in that hell. I just don't know why I am doing it all again."

Kuroka heard the hatred in Eren's voice as he spoke of his home dimension.

"...Is this the 'Rumbling' you mentioned, nyaa?" Kuroka asked hesitantly. 

Eren didn't answer. 

"If you've seen this before, tell me why it happened there. Maybe the reason is the same."

"The reasons aren't the same," Eren denied instantly, his voice once more detached. He was vacillating, Kuroka realized. Between extremes of emotions and apathy. Trying to come to terms. "I don't hate the people here. Everything that happened in my world was caused by love and hatred. And I don't hate this world enough. I don't hate the people here. They've never done anything to me."

"What about the devils," Kuroka prodded.

She knew Eren held a hatred for the Peerage system and how it allowed devils to force people into what was essentially eternal slavery. 

Her own experiences were bad enough that she had no problem when he had directed his ire towards the High-class devils in the Brigade.

"I... thought I did," Eren said hesitantly, hands tightening into fists. "Not all devils." Kuroka hoped not since she was one herself, as was Vali. "But devil Kings? Those that enslave others for power and entertainment? I hated them. Still hate them. What they do is disgusting. I have no problem killing a bunch of devils like that. But everyone else? They don't deserve to die like that, not because of a few animals. And... I am not even sure that hatred is enough anymore." 

Kuroka didn't doubt Eren's disgust for devil Kings. The Old Satan faction had been Eren's favourite part of the Brigaid to use as examples whenever he needed to put the fear of the Titan in newbies.

It was hilarious to see those hoity-toity 'noble' devils chafe under his control, act out, and get crushed by a 'lowly human.' But now wasn't time for justified schadenfreude.

Eren was lost. Confused. Hurt.

"What changed," Kuroka asked gently.

"Since I've been here," Eren hesitated, speaking slowly as he tried to put his thoughts back together. "On this bench, even that reason, that hatred, isn't enough to answer why. I haven't found the answer, just more reasons to ask why."

"What changed, nyaa?"

"I realized I was making the same mistake as last time," Eren sighed, weariness all that was left in him as he slumped back against the bench. "I thought I wasn't, but I was. I was hating them for what they were, not who they were. I still hate most Kings of Peerages. Or at least, most I've met," Eren clarified.

Then he paused, reaching down for his cane where it had fallen. 

"But... there are kind devils too," he said softly, drawing the first few inches of the blade. "Those with dreams or who give their Peerage a choice. And I can't hate people like that." 

It was with a voice void of any will to live that Eren spoke his following words. 

"You. Them. Everyone in this world. I can't hate everyone, not like I used to. So why am I here? You all would be better off if I wasn't here."

"Don't say that!" Kuroka snapped. Eren went to speak, but she cut him off. "You can only see what you are involved in. You have no idea if things would be better or worse without you. Whether I would even still be here!"

"You're right," Eren nodded slowly. "I can't see that. But after what I do-"

"What we do, nyaa," Kuroka cut him off. "I've been with you this entire time. I'll be with you to the end. You don't get to take all the blame."

More than anything else she had said, more than any sort of reassurance or appeal to logic, those words shut Eren up.

Which was good because Kuroka wasn't done.

"I don't get it, nyaa," the Nekoshou hissed angrily. It was her turn to be shaking Eren by the shoulders now. "I don't get any of this. I'm trying to understand. I thought I did, but I don't. I don't understand why what we will do is worse than what we've already done. I don't know why you are here or why you are smiling at the end. I don't know why you couldn't send a message for over a year!"

As she shook him, the bandages covering his face finally gave up the ghost and fell to the bench, exposing the deep groves under his eyes. The marks that meant he had to cover his face wherever he went or risk being identified by anyone looking for him.

How many times had Kuroka gently rubbed her hands over those marks, marvelling at the ridges and holes and the power they represented? 

Too many to count.

But it was never the shifter marks that held her full attention.

Eren looked up at Kuroka, gray eyes showing more emotion than she had ever seen in them.

Those eyes froze Kuroka's tirade on her lips.

For a second, they stared at each other, really seeing each other for the first time in their lives.

A pathetic man. Lost, confused and angry. One who'd destroy a world for revenge so his friends would live long, happy lives.

A monstrous woman. Loving, hedonistic, and angry. One who'd crush the world for her sister and those she loved.

Kuroka's voice was much softer as she finished her declaration.

"I don't know why you were reborn in this world." Kuroka still had her hands on Eren's shoulders, fingers digging in. As if she could hold on forever. "All I know is that no matter the reason, I am glad you were reborn."

"You don't understand," Eren shook his head slowly. "You can't understand. The fear and shame-"

"Get it through your thick skull, nyaa!" Kuroka interrupted Eren again, physically shaking him as the anger returned. "I am not trying to understand. Not now. You're smiling in the end, right? Then you'll know why, and I will, too. Until then, I don't care, nyaa!"

She kissed him. Hard. Hard enough that his lips would bruise.

Then she pulled back, revelling in the surprise in his eyes. The first time she had ever seen that look on him.

"You've been gone for over a year. You ran away. Fine, I'll accept such a lame excuse, nyaa. I always knew you had your moments of suicidal idiocy. But I cannot accept you saying you shouldn't have been born."

"I didn't say that," Eren said, seizing Kuroka's wrists and glaring at her. There it was. The fire. The passion. The will. The hard-headed stubbornness that had broken the backs of the worst this world had to offer over his titanic knee. "I never regretted being born. I just want to know why? Why was I reborn, and why me? Why have I become exactly what I've always hated?"

"I don't care why, nyaa!" Kuroka hissed, throwing her considerable strength against Eren's. All she managed to do was reposition herself till she was sitting on his lap, glaring down at him with fierce eyes as her tails swirled in a frenzy behind her. "You don't know why you were born? None of us do! So I don't care. All I care about is this. This moment. You and me. Right here and now."

"Why?"

So much in such a short question, asked by a man as lost as everyone else about the future.

Why can't you understand? Why won't you understand?

Why can you ignore this problem, this question about my existence?

Why, after everything I've done and will do, are you still with me?

Why do you still care?

"Because I love you," Kuroka said softly. "Idiot."

Kuroka kissed him again, taking great pleasure in the way Eren's eyes widened in surprise once more.

It was a shame that his connection to the Path was inhibited. Otherwise, Kuroka might have gained her seventh tail that summer evening on the bench.

********

While the enormous power of the mix of the Founder and Attack Titan does give an excellent opportunity for visually dramatic conflicts, I have always been more interested in how it affects the characters. How does one deal with seeing everything, living every moment in a life all at once? At every moment, you are living your worst and best moments. You are feeling the most significant pain and most incredible pleasure every second of your existence.

That's gonna mess a guy up. We see hints of it at the end of AOT, but there simply isn't room for exploring it.

Imagine knowing your husband/wife for decades before even meeting them. Do you love them more or less? What about enemies? You know someone is an enemy who will hurt you before they even know you exist. Does that affect your decisions? Are you the one that makes them an enemy? Are you the one that makes someone your lover?

It's such an interesting premise that I haven't really seen explored deeply. The closest is Dr. Manhattan in the original Watchman, and he is categorically not a base human, unlike Eren and Ymir before they gained their power. If one is a complete sociopath or an unfeeling machine, it doesn't matter, but despite the actions they take, both Eren and Ymir are shown to care and love people.

I've rambled a bit, but my point is that Eren is not an absolute type character. Just as the DxD cast is growing by knowing him, so is he growing by knowing them. In a way he couldn't do in AOT because of how it ended.

I've made no secret that On The Bench is a way of coming to terms with the end of Attack on Titan, both for the characters and me as an author. I've never stated one way or the other whether I like the ending because it doesn't matter for this story. It's the ending we received. And we must come to terms with it, whether we like it or not.

Fanfiction is terrific for allowing us to explore 'what ifs,' AUs, or alternate scenarios, but it can never escape the original work. Then it's not fanfiction anymore, but a whole new story.

I will meet you all next week on the bench.