Three years later

The sun hung high in the cloudless sky over Trost District, its warmth a stark contrast to the somber mood that permeated the air. It had been five years since the fall of Wall Maria, a tragedy that still weighed heavily on the collective consciousness of humanity. The streets buzzed with a mix of nervous energy and cautious hope as the citizens went about their daily lives, always aware of the looming threat beyond the walls.

Amidst this backdrop of tension and resilience, the newly graduated 104th Training Corps found themselves assigned to various duties throughout the city. They moved with purpose, their crisp new uniforms a testament to their recent accomplishment. Just yesterday, they had stood proud at their graduation ceremony, full of dreams and determination. Today, reality had set in as they tackled their first official assignments.

As midday approached, a small group of these fresh-faced soldiers found a moment to reunite amidst their busy schedules. Eren Yeager, his green eyes burning with the same intensity they had carried for years, was the first to arrive at their designated meeting spot - a small plaza near the main thoroughfare. Mikasa Ackerman, ever his shadow, was close behind, her stoic expression betraying nothing of her inner thoughts.

They were soon joined by Armin Arlert, his blond hair gleaming in the sunlight as he hurried towards them, a stack of papers clutched to his chest. Jean Kirstein sauntered up next, his tall frame and confident stride a stark contrast to Connie Springer's more energetic approach. Sasha Braus arrived munching on a pilfered loaf of bread, earning exasperated looks from her comrades.

Christa Lenz - or rather, Historia Reiss, though she still went by Christa in public - arrived with Ymir in tow, the taller girl's protective stance obvious to anyone who cared to notice. Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover rounded out the group, their imposing figures drawing curious glances from passing civilians.

As they gathered, a palpable sense of nostalgia mixed with anticipation hung in the air. They were no longer trainees, but soldiers on the cusp of choosing their future paths.

"Can you believe it's been three years already?" Connie mused, his eyes scanning the familiar faces of his comrades. "Feels like just yesterday we were stumbling through our first day of training."

Sasha nodded vigorously, swallowing a mouthful of bread. "Three years of blood, sweat, and tears... and now here we are, real soldiers!"

"Speaking of real soldiers," Eren interjected, his voice tinged with excitement, "I heard the Survey Corps is returning today. Their popularity has really increased over the past few years."

Armin, ever the voice of reason and information, nodded thoughtfully. "It's true. Since the fall of Wall Maria, public support for the Survey Corps has grown significantly. People are clinging to the hope that one day, we might reclaim what we've lost."

A contemplative silence fell over the group, each lost in their own thoughts about the monumental task that lay ahead for humanity.

Jean was the first to break the silence, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief. "Hey, did you guys hear about Mustang? Word is, they made him a Squad Leader a couple of months ago."

"Mustang?" Eren's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Aaron Mustang? Our Aaron?"

Jean scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "The very same. Can you believe it? That idiot, in charge of his own squad? He barely had any discipline when he was with us."

Armin, ever the mediator, offered a more balanced perspective. "Well, the Survey Corps leadership must have had their reasons. Aaron always did have exceptional combat skills."

Connie chimed in, his eyes wide with excitement. "I heard he's taken down twice as many Titans as some of the veteran soldiers there. Pretty impressive, if you ask me."

"Honestly," Ymir drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "I'm surprised he hasn't ended up as Titan chow yet. Always thought his big mouth would get him in trouble sooner rather than later."

"Ymir!" Christa admonished, though there was a hint of worry in her blue eyes. She had often wondered about Aaron over the past three years, though she'd never admit it aloud.

Before anyone could respond, a commotion from the main street caught their attention. The excited murmur of the crowd grew louder, and they could hear people calling out in awe and admiration.

"Look! It's Captain Levi!"

The 104th turned as one, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the legendary soldier. Sure enough, there was Levi, his small but imposing figure cutting through the crowd as he led his squad on horseback. His expression was as impassive as ever, seemingly unaffected by the adoration of the civilians around him.

But it was the figure riding a few paces behind Levi that truly caught their attention.

"Is that... Captain Mustang?" someone in the crowd called out.

Christa felt her heart skip a beat as her eyes locked onto the familiar form. Aaron Mustang sat atop a midnight black stallion, his Survey Corps cloak billowing behind him. The hood was drawn up, casting shadows over his face, but there was no mistaking those piercing green eyes.

Yet, as Christa studied him, she realized something had changed. The eyes that had once sparkled with mischief and life now looked... tired. Weary. The past three years seemed to have aged Aaron far more than they should have, etching lines of fatigue and sorrow into his once-carefree features.

"He looks... different," Armin murmured, voicing what they were all thinking.

Eren nodded, a mix of admiration and concern in his voice. "Three years in the Survey Corps will do that to you, I guess. But look at how the people admire him now."

Indeed, the crowd seemed just as excited to see Aaron as they were to see Levi. Children pointed and whispered, adults called out words of encouragement and thanks. It was clear that Aaron Mustang had made quite a name for himself in the years since he'd left them.

As they watched, Aaron urged his horse forward, catching up to the imposing figure at the head of the formation. Commander Erwin Smith, his blond hair gleaming in the sunlight, turned slightly as Aaron approached.

"Commander," Aaron's voice carried to where the 104th stood, deeper and more authoritative than they remembered. "I need to take care of some paperwork for Rosy's medications. Would it be alright if I caught up with you later?"

Erwin nodded, his expression softening slightly at the mention of Aaron's sister. "Of course, Aaron. Tell your squad to rest here for now."

"Thank you, Commander." Aaron turned his horse, trotting back to where a small group of soldiers waited expectantly.

A woman with short blonde hair - Nanaba, Christa recalled from their briefings on Survey Corps personnel - looked up as Aaron approached. "What's the situation, Captain?"

"We'll be staying in Trost for a while," Aaron replied, his voice carrying the weight of command. "Let's find somewhere to eat and rest up."

Nanaba nodded, relaying the orders to the rest of the squad. As one, Aaron's team broke away from the main formation, following their captain down a side street.

The 104th watched in stunned silence as Aaron and his squad disappeared from view, not once glancing in their direction. It was as if the boisterous, troublemaking recruit they had known had been replaced by this serious, battle-hardened soldier.

"Well," Eren said after a moment, his voice snapping the group out of their collective daze. "We should probably get back to work. Those cannons aren't going to clean themselves."

As they began to disperse, Jean fell into step beside Eren, his expression thoughtful. "I still can't believe Mustang is actually a Squad Leader now. Never thought I'd see the day."

Eren shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "People change, Jean. Maybe Aaron found his calling in the Survey Corps."

As they walked away, Christa lingered for a moment, her eyes fixed on the spot where Aaron had disappeared. Ymir placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her usual sarcasm replaced by genuine concern.

"You okay there, Christa?"

Christa nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just... strange to see him like that. He seems so different now."

Ymir squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Three years is a long time, especially in the Survey Corps. Come on, we've got our own duties to attend to."

As they rejoined their comrades, Christa couldn't shake the image of Aaron's weary eyes from her mind. What had he seen, what had he experienced in those three years to change him so dramatically? And why did she feel a strange ache in her chest at the thought of all he must have endured?

....

The warm glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows across the walls of the small tavern, creating an atmosphere of cozy intimacy that stood in stark contrast to the tension that perpetually hung over the walled city. In a corner booth, Aaron Mustang sat with his squad, the remnants of their meal scattered across the worn wooden table.

Aaron lifted a tarnished mug to his lips, the bitter taste of cheap wine washing over his tongue. His emerald eyes, once bright with mischief and life, now held a weariness that seemed at odds with his youthful features. The past three years had etched lines of fatigue and sorrow into his face, telling a silent story of battles fought and comrades lost.

Nanaba, her short blonde hair catching the lamplight, leaned forward slightly. "Captain," she began, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

Aaron sighed, rubbing his forehead with calloused fingers. "Nanaba, how many times do I have to tell you? When we're off-duty, just use my name."

A faint blush colored Nanaba's cheeks, barely noticeable in the tavern's dim light. "Right, sorry. Aaron, then. I was just wondering... does the place meet with your approval? I tried to find somewhere quiet where we could relax."

Aaron's gaze swept around the tavern, taking in the rough-hewn furniture and the eclectic mix of patrons. "It's not bad," he said after a moment, his voice neutral. "Good choice, Nanaba."

From the adjacent table, where the rest of Aaron's squad sat, a boisterous voice cut through the ambient chatter. "Oi, Nanaba!" called Neil, a grin splitting his weather-beaten face. "Still trying to impress the Captain, are we?"

Raucous laughter erupted from the table, drawing curious glances from nearby patrons. Dino, a stocky man with a penchant for crude jokes, wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "I swear," he chortled, "Captain Mustang's even colder than Captain Levi these days!"

Gus, the youngest member of the squad, nodded in agreement. "No kidding! It's easier to get a smile out of Levi than our illustrious leader here."

Nanaba's blush deepened, her eyes darting between Aaron and her laughing comrades. Aaron, for his part, seemed unperturbed by the good-natured ribbing. He took another sip of wine, his expression unreadable.

"Seems like they enjoy poking fun at my expense," he observed dryly, a hint of his old sardonic humor coloring his words.

Dino's grin widened as he called out, "On the contrary, Cap! We like laughing with you, not at you!"

"Yeah," Neil chimed in, raising his mug in a mock toast. "Your reputation precedes you, after all. The fearsome Aaron Mustang, Titan-slayer extraordinaire!"

A flicker of something – amusement? annoyance? – passed across Aaron's face. "Is that so?" he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Well, in that case, I think I'll ask Captain Levi if he needs volunteers for cleaning duty at headquarters tomorrow. I'm sure he'd appreciate your enthusiasm."

The laughter at the other table died down abruptly, replaced by nervous chuckles and mumbled apologies. Aaron's reputation for creative punishments was apparently as well-known as his combat prowess.

As the conversation drifted to other topics, Aaron found his mind wandering. He thought of Rosy, safely ensconced within Wall Sina, receiving the best medical care humanity could provide. He thought of the comrades he'd lost, their faces etched into his memory with painful clarity. And, unbidden, he thought of a pair of blue eyes and golden hair, of a night spent under the stars and promises whispered in the dark.

Shaking off the memories, Aaron drained the last of his wine. There was no use dwelling on the past. He had a job to do, a squad to lead, and humanity to protect. Everything else – regrets, what-ifs, lost opportunities – had to be pushed aside.

*****

Across the city, atop the imposing walls that had protected humanity for a century, a very different scene was unfolding. The setting sun cast long shadows across the stone surface, painting the world in hues of orange and gold. The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the metallic tang of well-oiled machinery.

Christa Lenz – or rather, Historia Reiss, though she still clung to her assumed identity – worked methodically, her delicate hands sure and steady as she cleaned the massive cannon before her. The routine task should have been mindless, but Christa found her thoughts in turmoil, replaying the brief glimpse she'd had of Aaron earlier that day.

Beside her, Ymir worked with less enthusiasm but no less efficiency. Her sharp eyes kept darting to Christa, concern evident in their depths. Finally, unable to bear the uncharacteristic silence any longer, Ymir spoke up.

"Don't tell me you're still hung up on that idiot Mustang," she said, her voice a mixture of exasperation and worry.

Christa's hands stilled for a moment before resuming their work. "I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured, not meeting Ymir's gaze.

Ymir let out a frustrated sigh. "Come on, Christa. I'm not blind. You've been quiet ever since we saw him ride in with the Survey Corps. If he cared about you at all, he would have sent a letter or something in the past three years. But there's been nothing. Zero contact. All we've heard about him are the stories the instructors tell."

Christa remained silent, focusing intently on a particularly stubborn spot of grime on the cannon's barrel. Ymir's words stung, partly because of their harshness, but mostly because of the grain of truth they contained. Three years without a word... had Aaron forgotten about her? About all of them?

As the silence stretched between them, Ymir felt a pang of guilt. She opened her mouth, perhaps to apologize or offer some words of comfort, when suddenly, a collective gasp rose from the soldiers stationed along the wall.

Christa's head snapped up, her eyes widening in horror at the sight before her. In the distance, beyond the outer gate of Trost, a massive plume of steam had erupted. As they watched, frozen in disbelief, a colossal figure emerged from the mist.

The Colossal Titan, its skinless form a nightmarish vision of muscle and sinew, loomed over the wall. For a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. Then, with a movement that belied its enormous size, the Titan's foot connected with the gate.

The sound of shattering stone and twisting metal filled the air as the gate exploded inward. Debris rained down on the city below, and through the gaping hole, smaller Titans began to pour in.

As quickly as it had appeared, the Colossal Titan vanished in another burst of steam, leaving chaos and terror in its wake.

Christa stood rooted to the spot, her body trembling uncontrollably. This couldn't be happening. Not again. Not like five years ago. The memories of that terrible day, of the fall of Wall Maria, threatened to overwhelm her.

A strong hand gripped her arm, snapping her out of her paralysis. Ymir's face swam into focus, her expression a mixture of determination and barely concealed fear.

"Christa! We have to move!" Ymir shouted over the rising cacophony of screams and rumbling stone.

As if on cue, a superior officer appeared, his face ashen but his voice steady. "All hands, move to contain the Titan incursion! Protect the civilians and support the vanguard!"

Training kicked in, overriding fear and shock. Christa felt her body moving almost of its own accord, her hands reaching for the ODM gear at her hips. In a fluid motion born of countless hours of practice, she launched herself off the wall, the whir of steel cables cutting through the air.

Ymir kept pace beside her, their bodies weaving through the air with a grace that belied the terror of their situation. As they swung from building to building, the full extent of the devastation became clear. Titans of various sizes lumbered through the streets, their grotesque forms a stark contrast to the picturesque buildings of Trost.

"We need to regroup with the others," Ymir called out, her voice barely audible over the rush of wind and the distant screams. "Safety in numbers!"

Christa nodded, unable to form words past the lump of fear in her throat. As they soared over the rooftops, her mind raced. Where were Eren and the others? What about the civilians? And Aaron... was he out there somewhere, fighting these monsters?

The city that had been so peaceful just hours ago had transformed into a war zone. Smoke rose from multiple locations, and the air was thick with the dust of crumbling buildings. Everywhere Christa looked, she saw scenes of horror and heroism – soldiers engaging Titans in desperate battle, civilians fleeing in terror, comrades falling to the relentless onslaught.

As they rounded a corner, narrowly avoiding the grasping hand of a 7-meter class Titan, Christa caught sight of a familiar figure ahead. Connie Springer was perched on a rooftop, gesturing frantically to a group of civilians huddled in an alley below.

"This way!" Ymir shouted, adjusting her trajectory to land beside Connie. Christa followed, her landing less graceful than usual as fatigue and fear began to take their toll.

"Christa! Ymir!" Connie's relief was palpable. "Thank god you're alright. Have you seen any of the others?"

Christa shook her head, trying to catch her breath. "No, we came straight from the wall. What's the situation?"

Connie's face was grim. "It's bad. The vanguard's been almost completely wiped out. We're trying to evacuate as many civilians as we can, but..." he trailed off, his eyes haunted.

Ymir cursed under her breath. "Where are we supposed to regroup? There must be some kind of plan."

.....

The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Chaos reigned in the streets of Trost as soldiers fought desperately against the Titan incursion. Amidst the pandemonium, a small group of newly graduated recruits huddled on a rooftop, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and determination.

Connie Springer, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by grim resolve, surveyed the devastation below. His eyes narrowed as he assessed their options, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders.

"We need to make our way to the inner gate," he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "It's our best chance to regroup and assist with the evacuation. The more distance we put between us and the breach, the better our odds."

Christa nodded, her blue eyes wide as she took in the horrific scene around them. Ymir stood close by, her protective stance a silent promise of support. The other recruits murmured their agreement, relief evident in their faces at having a clear course of action.

"Alright then," Connie continued, straightening up and checking his ODM gear. "We move in formation. Keep an eye out for civilians who need help, but don't take unnecessary risks. Our primary goal is to reach the inner sectors. Understood?"

A chorus of affirmatives rang out. With a final nod, Connie launched himself off the roof, the whir of ODM cables cutting through the air. The others followed suit, their bodies weaving through the air with a grace born of countless hours of training.

As they traversed the city, the true extent of the devastation became clear. Buildings lay in ruins, crushed beneath the feet of lumbering Titans. The streets below were a maze of debris and abandoned carts, eerily empty save for the occasional group of fleeing civilians or the fallen bodies of less fortunate souls.

The recruits moved as swiftly as they dared, their hearts pounding with a mixture of exertion and fear. Every shadow, every unexpected movement, could herald the approach of a Titan. The constant vigilance wore on their nerves, fraying them like overused ropes.

Time seemed to blur as they made their way through the city. Minutes stretched into hours, each moment a battle against exhaustion and terror. They assisted where they could, guiding lost civilians towards safety and providing cover for retreating soldiers. But for every life saved, for every small victory, the Titans claimed more ground.

It was during one such rescue attempt that Christa found herself separated from the group. A family – a mother clutching an infant to her chest and two young children clinging to her skirts – huddled in the shadow of a partially collapsed building. Their terrified cries caught Christa's attention, and before she could think better of it, she had veered away from her comrades.

"This way!" she called out, landing lightly on the street before the family. "Quickly, we need to get you to the inner gate!"

The mother nodded gratefully, ushering her children forward. Christa's heart clenched at the sight of their tear-stained faces and trembling bodies. This was why she had joined the military – to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

But as she turned to lead them to safety, a bone-chilling roar split the air. Christa's blood ran cold as she saw a small Titan, no more than 4 meters tall, charging down the street towards them. Its disproportionate body moved with surprising speed, its grotesque face split in a mindless grin.

"Run!" Christa shouted, pushing the family towards a side alley. She activated her ODM gear, the familiar rush of gas propelling her into the air. Her mind raced as she tried to formulate a plan. She wasn't equipped to take on a Titan alone, but she couldn't abandon the civilians.

Banking hard around a corner, Christa's heart nearly stopped. Another Titan, this one closer to 7 meters, lumbered into view. Its massive hand swung towards her, fingers grasping at empty air as she barely managed to change direction.

Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she realized she was being herded. The Titans, for all their apparent mindlessness, were cutting off her escape routes. She was being driven deeper into the city, away from help, away from safety.

Just as Christa thought things couldn't get worse, a shadow fell over her. She looked up, her eyes widening in horror. A 13-meter class Titan towered above her, its dead eyes fixed on her small form. Time seemed to slow as its hand reached out, fingers spread wide to snatch her from the air.

In that moment, Christa saw her life flash before her eyes. She thought of her comrades, of the family she had tried to save, of all the things she had yet to do. She thought of Aaron, wondering if he would ever know what had happened to her.

She closed her eyes, bracing for the impact that would surely crush the life from her body. But instead of the expected pain, she heard the distinctive sound of ODM gear and the wet thud of blades slicing through flesh.

Christa's eyes snapped open just in time to see the Titan's severed arm falling away. A blur of motion caught her attention, and she watched in awe as a figure moved with incredible speed and precision. In a series of fluid movements, too fast for her eyes to follow, the mysterious savior dispatched not only the 13-meter Titan but also the two smaller ones that had been pursuing her.

As the Titans' massive bodies began to crumple, steam rising from their fatal wounds, Christa managed to regain control of her ODM gear. She landed hard on a nearby rooftop, her legs shaking so badly she could barely stand.

The sound of boots touching down on tiles drew her attention. She looked up, her breath catching in her throat as she recognized her rescuer.

Aaron Mustang stood before her, the wings of freedom emblazoned on his back rippling in the wind. His green eyes, once full of mischief and life, now burned with an intensity that took her breath away. In that moment, he looked every inch the hardened soldier, a far cry from the brash recruit she had known.

"Are you alright, Historia?" Aaron asked, his voice softer than she expected.

Christa – no, Historia – felt her eyes well up with tears of relief and joy. "Aaron," she breathed, a smile breaking through her fear. "It's really you."

Aaron's stern expression softened for a moment, a ghost of his old smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he nodded.

The moment was broken by the arrival of Aaron's squad. They landed on the rooftop with practiced ease, immediately fanning out to secure the area. Nanaba, her short blonde hair matted with sweat and grime, approached Aaron.

"Captain," she said, her voice crisp and professional. "What are your orders?"

Before Aaron could respond, Dino, a stocky man with a perpetual smirk, chimed in. "Did you see that, Nanaba? The Captain actually smiled at the little blonde! Who knew the boss had a soft spot?"

Aaron's expression hardened, a flash of irritation crossing his features. "I'm only two years older than her, Dino," he said, his tone carrying a warning edge.

Gus, the youngest member of the squad, elbowed Dino sharply. "Not the time, man," he hissed.

Clearing his throat, Neil, a tall, lanky soldier with sharp eyes, turned to Aaron. "Captain? What's our next move?"

Aaron's demeanor shifted, slipping back into the role of commanding officer with ease. "Neil, Dino, head to the supply tower. We need to restock on gas and blades – I haven't changed mine since yesterday's mission."

The two soldiers nodded, launching themselves off the roof without hesitation.

"Gus, Nanaba," Aaron continued, "I want you to support the recruits. Focus on evacuation and defensive maneuvers. Keep casualties to a minimum."

Nanaba's brow furrowed in concern. "And you, Captain? What will you be doing?"

Aaron's eyes scanned the ruined cityscape, his expression grim. "I'll handle the Titans within the city. We need to buy time for the evacuation to complete."

Historia, who had been listening to this exchange with growing alarm, stepped forward. "Aaron, no! That's too dangerous, even for you!"

Nanaba whirled on Historia, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Watch your tone, recruit! Show some respect to the Captain. In case you didn't know, only Captain Levi outranks him in combat ability. Captain Mustang is on a completely different level."

"Nanaba," Aaron's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Just follow your orders. Go."

Nanaba hesitated for a moment before nodding sharply. "Yes, Captain. Don't die out there." With that, she and Gus took off, leaving Aaron and Historia alone on the rooftop.

Aaron turned his gaze back to the chaos of Trost, his posture tense as he assessed the situation. "Historia," he said, his voice firm but not unkind, "you need to evacuate with the others. It's not safe here."

Historia shook her head, determination replacing her earlier fear. "No, I want to help. I can fight too, Aaron. Let me stay with you."

For a moment, Aaron's stern facade cracked, a flicker of the boy she had known shining through. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the hardened gaze of a soldier who had seen too much.

"You'll be more of a hindrance than a help," he said bluntly. "This isn't a training exercise, Historia. One wrong move out there and you're dead. I can't afford to be worrying about you while I'm fighting."

His words stung, but Historia stood her ground. "I'm not the same girl you left behind, Aaron. I've trained hard these past three years. I can hold my own."

Aaron turned to face her fully, his green eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "This isn't about your abilities, Historia. It's about experience. You've never faced a real Titan before today. I've been fighting them for three years. Out there, hesitation means death. Can you honestly tell me you're ready to kill without hesitation? To watch comrades die and keep fighting?"

Historia opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her lips. The truth of Aaron's words hit her like a physical blow. She thought of how close she had come to death just minutes ago, of the paralyzing fear that had gripped her.

Aaron's expression softened slightly, seeing the realization in her eyes. "Go with the others, Historia. Help with the evacuation. That's where you're needed most right now."

With a heavy heart, Historia nodded. "Just... be careful out there, Aaron. Promise me you'll come back."

A shadow passed over Aaron's face, a glimpse of the weight he carried. "I'll do my best," he said softly. "That's all any of us can do."

With one last lingering look, Aaron activated his ODM gear and launched himself off the roof. Historia watched him go, his form growing smaller as he swung between buildings with a grace and precision that spoke of years of hard-won experience.

******

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the ruins of Trost. The air was thick with steam rising from fallen Titans and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Amidst the chaos and destruction, a lone figure darted between buildings with lethal grace.

Aaron Mustang moved like a force of nature, his blades flashing in the fading light as he cut down Titan after Titan. His movements were precise, economical, honed by years of brutal experience beyond the walls. Where once he had fought with raw aggression and bravado, now he struck with calculated efficiency.

A 7-meter class lunged for him, its misshapen mouth gaping wide. Aaron pivoted mid-air, using his ODM gear to swing around behind the creature. His blades bit deep into the nape, and before the Titan had even begun to fall, Aaron was already moving to his next target.

Time seemed to blur as Aaron fought on. Minutes stretched into hours, each moment a desperate struggle for survival. His muscles burned with exertion, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but still he pushed on. Every Titan he felled was one less threat to the civilians and fellow soldiers fighting to survive.

As he paused on a rooftop to catch his breath, Aaron became acutely aware of the depleting gas in his ODM gear. The familiar weight of his blades felt lighter too, worn down by countless strikes against Titan flesh. He knew he couldn't keep this up indefinitely.

With a burst of gas, Aaron launched himself towards the rendezvous point he had established with his squad. He found them huddled on a partially collapsed bell tower, their faces etched with exhaustion and grim determination.

Nanaba was the first to notice his approach. "Captain!" she called out, relief evident in her voice. "We were starting to worry."

Aaron landed lightly beside them, his keen eyes already scanning the area for potential threats. "Report," he said tersely, conserving his breath.

Gus, the youngest of the squad, spoke up. "It's not good, sir. No matter how many we take down, more keep coming. It's like they're endless."

Dino nodded grimly. "We've lost contact with several other squads. Communications are in chaos."

Aaron's brow furrowed as he processed this information. "What about our supplies? Gas and blades?"

Neil shook his head, frustration clear in his voice. "That's another problem, Captain. The supply depot is surrounded by Titans. No one's been able to get close enough to resupply."

This news hit Aaron like a physical blow. Without gas and fresh blades, they were as good as dead. His mind raced, calculating options, weighing risks against potential rewards.

It was then that he caught sight of a group of figures huddled on a distant rooftop. Even from this distance, he could see the fear in their postures, the desperation of soldiers pushed to their limits. With a jolt, he recognized some of them - Jean, Connie, Historia, Ymir, Armin. His former comrades from the 104th Training Corps.

"We're moving out," Aaron announced, his decision made. "Those recruits need help, and we need supplies. Two birds, one stone."

His squad nodded, falling in behind him without question as he launched himself towards the stranded recruits. As they drew closer, Aaron could make out more details. The recruits looked shell-shocked, their uniforms stained with blood and grime. In one corner, a figure sat hunched over - Aaron couldn't see who it was, but the body language spoke of deep despair.

They landed just in time to hear the tail end of an impassioned speech. Mikasa Ackerman stood before the group, her dark eyes blazing with determination. "I am strong," she declared, her voice carrying across the rooftop. "No, I'm much stronger than any of you. I can do this."

Aaron felt a surge of irritation at her words. Bravado like that got people killed. "Careful what you say, Ackerman," he called out, his voice cutting through the tension. "You never know when you might be spitting in the wind."

Mikasa whirled to face him, anger flashing across her features. She took a step towards Aaron, her hand moving towards her blade, but before she could act, Aaron's squad had their weapons drawn, forming a protective circle around their captain.

"Stand down," Aaron ordered, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable note of authority. "Save your blades for the Titans. They're the real enemy here."

The tension hung in the air for a moment before Mikasa reluctantly backed off, her glare never leaving Aaron's face. Satisfied that the immediate threat had passed, Aaron turned his attention to the group at large.

"I hear you're planning to retake the supply depot," he said, his tone businesslike. "Count us in. We're running on fumes here."

Jean stepped forward, his face a mask of grim determination. "They issued a general retreat order a while ago. Once we resupply, we can all fall back to safety."

Aaron nodded, his mind already formulating a plan. "Alright. My gas is almost gone, so I'll be counting on you recruits to get us there."

Connie shifted nervously, voicing the fear they all felt. "Is this for real? I've got a bad feeling about this."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Aaron felt a flicker of his old self surface. "What's the matter, Springer? Scared of a few Titans?" The ghost of a smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

Before Connie could retort, Aaron was already moving. "Let's go. Every second we waste here is another life lost."

As one, the group launched themselves off the rooftop, their ODM gear whirring as they swung between buildings. Aaron kept a sharp eye on their formation, noting with approval how well the recruits moved despite their obvious fear.

His attention was drawn to Mikasa, who was using far more gas than necessary in her movements. "Ackerman!" he called out. "Ease up on the gas! At this rate, you'll-"

His warning came too late. With a sputtering hiss, Mikasa's ODM gear gave out mid-swing. She plummeted towards the ground, her usual grace abandoning her in her shock.

"Mikasa!" Armin's panicked cry rang out. Without hesitation, he and Connie veered off course, diving after their falling comrade.

Aaron cursed under his breath. They couldn't afford to split up, but he couldn't leave them behind either. "Gus!" he barked. "Go with them. Keep them alive and rendezvous with us at the depot."

Gus saluted mid-air before peeling off to follow Armin and Connie. Aaron watched them go for a moment before refocusing on the task at hand. They were nearing the supply depot, and he could already see the mass of Titans surrounding it.

"On my mark!" he shouted, drawing his blades. "Hit them hard and fast! Don't let them touch you!"

With a series of affirmative cries, the group descended upon the Titans. Aaron moved like lightning, his blades singing through the air as he took down Titan after Titan. His squad fought with similar skill, their movements a testament to the rigorous training of the Survey Corps.

The recruits, for their part, fought with desperate courage. Jean and Ymir worked in tandem, one distracting a Titan while the other went for the killing blow. Historia darted between larger opponents, her small size allowing her to evade their grasping hands as she struck at their weak points.

But even as they fought, Aaron could feel his gas running dangerously low. His movements became more conservative, each burst of gas carefully calculated. He saw similar signs of fatigue in the others, their swings becoming less precise, their reactions slowing.

"The window!" Nanaba shouted suddenly, pointing to an open window on the upper floor of the depot. "We can get in through there!"

Aaron nodded sharply. "Good eye! Everyone, make for that window! Move!"

With a final burst of gas, they soared towards the opening. Aaron hung back, ensuring everyone else made it inside before taking a last swing at a reaching Titan. His blades cut deep into its eyes, buying them a few precious seconds as he tumbled through the window.

He landed hard on the floor, his gas canisters completely empty. Around him, the others were in similar states of exhaustion, gasping for breath and checking their gear.

As he pushed himself to his feet, Aaron's eyes immediately sought out Historia. "Are you alright?" he asked, offering her his hand.

Historia nodded, taking his hand gratefully. "I'm okay," she said, her voice shaky but determined. "Thanks to you and your squad."

From behind them, Dino's voice carried a note of amusement. "Well, well, Nanaba. Looks like the Captain had a secret girlfriend all along."

Aaron shot Dino a warning glare, but he couldn't quite suppress the warmth that spread through his chest at Historia's proximity. For a moment, the years seemed to fall away, and he was once again that brash recruit, sneaking out of the barracks for a midnight adventure with a blue-eyed angel.

But reality crashed back in as a Titan's fist smashed against the building, shaking dust from the ceiling. Aaron's expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes replaced by steely determination.

"Alright, people," he called out, his voice carrying the weight of command. "We're not out of the woods yet. We need to secure this depot and resupply. Then we can worry about getting out of this hellhole."

As the group gathered around him, awaiting orders, Aaron felt the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. They were far from safe, but they had made it this far. Now came the hard part - keeping them all alive long enough to see another dawn.