Hello, and welcome to Attack on Guyver!
Yes, this is the remake of my previous story, Attack On Titan: The Warriors of Light and Darkness. That also makes it the second Attack on Titan/Guyver story on this site!
If you are a new fan, then I welcome you to this story and hope that you enjoy it!
If you're an old fan, then prepare for a lot of new stuff!
To start this rewrite off, we begin with something completely different: A prologue! And not just one, but three!
Enjoy!
Disclaimer - I don't own Attack on Titan, it all belongs to Kodansha. I also don't own Guyver, it all belongs to Kadokawa Shoten. I only own my OCs.
"In the beginning, it was all black and white." Maureen O'Hara.
Three Prologues, Three Boys
Shiganshina District - Wall Maria
843
The Wall loomed.
Sitting by the canal's bank, Eren Yeager looked up at the Wall that surrounded his home town. He looked past the top of the Wall, at the sky high above. Clouds were dusted about like powdered sugar on treats and the wind washed over his skin warmly and gently.
It was a fine day.
Eren heaved a sigh.
He was outrageously bored.
It was a fine day, but it was also an uneventful one. There was nothing happening and nothing going on. So far, he had gone through the usual motions that he would on any other day
This annoyed him.
Everything was so—routine.
And so, with an abundant amount of free time on his hands, had gone off to be alone. There was really nothing else to do.
He had followed no particular direction, no particular path, only the wind and listened until sounds became distant and far away. He had moved and followed the canal until he came upon this quiet area of Shiganshina, not too far from the outer gate.
Eren had briefly pondered why the canal extended as far as it did into Shiganshina, considering that there was no gate that allowed the boats out of the town, before losing interest. Who cared? Probably some stupid grown-up reason.
He sighed again, a little rougher this time.
Not only was Eren bored, but he also felt a peculiar sense of irritation.
This anger had been present for some time now, an annoying little fire that had yet to go out. Refused to go out. Eren wasn't sure where it had come from, but it existed within him none the less, flaring at certain moments. Whenever he fought the bullies who hurt Armin. When people dismissed the Survey Corps, people who fought the Titans when others didn't. It came in sudden, unexpected bursts from comments people made that he just could not accept. Even from his mother and father.
It shimmered in him now, as he stared up at the pristine Wall. Where it not for the Wall, Eren imagined that he would have a view of a fresh green land under a clear blue sky that would span for miles and miles. As it stood now, he only had a cropped view of the sky.
Eren scowled. He was bored and irritated and he needed to do something because he kept feeling like he needed to break something.
Why couldn't something interesting happen?
"Eren! There you are!"
With a jolt of surprise, Eren wondered if there was indeed a God listening to prays. He turned his head, green eyes meeting the familiar form of his friend.
There was an odd bounce in Armin Artlet's steps as he trotted over to Eren, a large book held near protectively to his chest.
"What's up, Armin?"
"This!" Armin crowed, holding out the book with both hands. He seemed to be barely able to contain himself. "My grandpa had it hidden away. Believe it or not, this book is all about the outside world!
"The outside world?!" Eren's shock quickly turned into irritation. If this was Armin attempt at a joke, then he wasn't laughing. It was a well-known fact that everything and anything to do with the outside world was considered a taboo and to so much as speak about it was to be branded a heretic.
Armin should have been well aware of all this. He was, after all, super smart.
So it came as quite a surprise to Eren when the blonde, instead of reacting with worry or fear, proclaimed passionately. "This is much more important than that!" He dropped to his knees before Eren and the boy leaned back slightly, put off by the gleam in his friend's blue eyes. "Listen, according to this book, most of the world is covered by salt water so deep you can't reach the bottom! There's even a name for it too, they call it the sea!"
The words hit Eren like a hammer to the brain and he sat up, spine rigid. "S-salt?!" He couldn't believe it. He tried to imagine it but his mind failed to produce an image to the words Armin said. No, Eren dismissed, that couldn't be possible. It had to be a lie. Such a thing couldn't exist.
Besides, everyone and their great-uncle knew that if it were true, then merchants would have drained it away for supplies already.
Armin seemed to have expected such a response because he eagerly countered Eren's words. "No, that's the thing! The sea's so massive that it can never be depleted!"
Eren stared at Armin, disbelieving. A warm breath of air washed over them. He then snorted, tried to smile. "That's just silly…"
But the gleam in Armin's eyes never dimmed. There was no doubt or hint of deception.
Armin meant every word.
And in no time at all the book was laid down between them and Armin was happily pointing and explaining everything else that existed past the Walls. Water that glowed like fire, fields of ice, plains of sand and giant rocks that took days to climb.
And with each new thing, Eren felt the Walls grow just a little more larger. A little more encaging.
And the fire in his heart flared and burnt his soul.
Finally, it all made sense.
Finally, he understood.
He was trapped. They were trapped, all of them. Every person behind the Walls was locked away from a world that could offer them so much more. A world, which had been lost to them for a century. A world they could never hope to take back
A world lost to the Titans.
The Titans. He hated the Titans. Hated everything about them. Eren felt something akin to a fist squeezing the breath from his lungs. The Titans. Those slobbering, dead-eyed, evil monsters...
The flame was now an inferno, festering under his skin.
He would kill them, he would kill them all-!
"Eren…" Armin's voice, soft and full with an unusual firm determination, brought Eren back to reality. He looked up but his friend's eyes were on the book, seeing something Eren couldn't. "I hope, one day…that we'll get to explore the outside world."
The words crystallized in Eren's mind. 'We.' Armin had not expressed a desire he wished to own alone, but one that he wanted to share with Eren. Where it anyone else, even himself, Eren knew he would not be so willing to share such a dream.
It warmed his heart that Armin was, but at the same time, there was anger.
Anger, because Eren didn't know how they would be able to achieve such a dream. There was so much that stood against them. Titans, the Walls, people. The latter Eren could possibly deal with, but the former two required more than he could give.
But Armin's dream was beautiful, and Eren wanted to repay this selfless kindness. Even if it was the last thing he would do.
Not too far from them, a bell rang out. Eren's ears perked up at the sound and he tore his gaze away from the book and Armin. He knew what the bell meant. Everyone in Shiganshina did.
The Survey Corps had returned.
And it was the most curious thing that Eren then realised that amidst the dangers that the Scouts faced, they went past the Walls on a monthly bases. The Survey Corps saw the outside world, or at least, as much of it as they could before they were forced to return to the Walls. He reflected on how they were the only ones willing to make a stand, to fight the Titans in their taken lands while others hide behind the comfort of the Walls.
People like those whose comments enraged Eren so, spitting on the efforts of those brave people who risked their lives.
People like those in Wall Sina, who probably had not a care in the world to the threat that stomped about beyond Wall Maria.
People like Hannes and his friends, who spent most of their time drinking and messing around.
People like himself.
Shame burned Eren before he fought it away, feeling the fire kindled in his chest.
Suddenly, he was not so bored and life was not so aimless.
Eren gave his friend a smile that belonged on a wolf. "We will, Armin. I'll make sure we do!"
He knew what he had to do now.
The only way forward, the only way to freedom, the only way for him and Armin to see the sea was through the Survey Corps
London – England
2004
A harsh wind washed down the street.
Grimacing, Joshua Martin hunched his shoulders and closed his eyes. His right hand laid over the pages of his book whilst his left secured its grip. Underneath his skin, he felt the pages fluttered like a bird's pulse.
Once the wind past, Josh sighed and smoothed his ruffled hair. The paperback folded close, his thumb an ersatz bookmark. Once he was satisfied, he quickly got back to reading.
England was renowned throughout the world for its less than cheerful weather. Stereotyped for its constant rain and constant chill. But when it was warm, it got warm. Today was a perfect example in the height of spring. As the sun gave the country a much-needed swell of warmth, it made staying in his front room nigh impossible. To sit there was to collect sweat and become uncomfortable and Josh really had no desire for either.
When one lacked a garden, as well as had parents with busy and time-consuming jobs, one made do with what they had. Sitting out on the uppermost steps of his home, he must have looked quite the sight. Sitting there alone, with nought but a book.
Cars rushed by and the odd person walked past but Josh paid them no mind, too immersed in the universe unfolding before him as his eyes rolled over the pages. The sun was warm on his skin but the occasional gale cooled him.
He was currently favouring a particular favourite of his. The fourth and final book in a series and it was, without question, the best of all of them.
The first had been terrible, poorly written with bad characters, a horrible start that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The second had been a massive improvement, with a stronger plot and better characters. It was also historical, which was a huge plus for him.
The third had been a simple but pleasant story, basic, really, in plot and structure, but with enough gruesome imagery and intrigue to keep him thoroughly entertained.
But this one, the final book, made all three pale in comparison. Ironic, really, that the series would have such a bad start but end so strongly.
How many times had he read this book? There was no answer because Joshua often returned to the start of the book once he had finished reading it.
His eyes trailed over the paragraphs of one of his many favourite moments of the novel. The Villain had separated the Hero and the Companion and now the Companion was spiralling into the Villain's chessboard. As she fell, the Companion was broken down and reconstructed, having to fight to keep the idea of herself together.
Josh loved this part because there came a moment where the Companion had the choice to be like everyone else yet she chooses the pain of being an outcast. She chose to be herself. Josh admired that, respected that.
Then there was the immediate part following, where she collected herself through the love she felt for the Hero. Between a blurb of words that she used defined him and a brilliant metaphor for his goodness (A thorny rose, beautiful but deadly), there came a line that had stuck with Josh long after he read the book the first time. One of many that kept drawing him back:
"Here was something beyond herself which she cared for terribly, and painfully. Something that could never be part of a crowd."
Josh loved that line. Loved this book. Admired the Hero's goodness and emphasized with the Companion's strife. But that line, that one sentence in the entire book, always gave him a moment's pause.
Joshua murmured, "Something that could never be part of a crowd."
In the corner of his eye, Josh caught sight of a small group of children around his age walking up the street. All of them in similar uniforms. Glancing at his watch, he realised that time had flown at it was now the time that public schools ended.
Josh returned his gaze to his book and waited for them to pass, a horrible prickling sense of dread filling him. It was only after they had passed his home, playing him no mind at all, as they chattered about obnoxious teachers and things to do now that they were free of the timetable, that he allowed himself to relax and take a stabilizing breath.
In place of his dread came a dull ache, nestling in his heart like a stone.
Josh watched them go, reflecting. There went a crowd that he would never be a part of. With a sting of pain, he remembered moments where a simple extension of the hand of friendship had been slapped aside with scorn or ridicule. Though he tried to mingle, he did not belong among them. He did not like the things they liked, sports and pop stars, and they did not like the things he liked, books and soft music.
So Josh stayed away, stayed with his books and the escape they offered, the passageways into worlds and lives far more colourful than his own. He stayed with the people he knew but, while on good terms with his neighbours, they would never be friends in the proper sense. Too much time between, too much not understood by both parties.
He stood alone.
And it was after he read this book, this book of good triumphing over evil, that Josh wondered: Was there someone out there, waiting for him? Someone who, like himself, did not belong? Who was not part of the crowd? Where they, together, could make their own crowd?
Joshua scoffed, bitterness curling his lips into a smile. He was being silly.
The book he was reading was a work of fiction, a fantasy that would never be real. Nothing about it was true. The Hero was an impossible person who could never exist and though the Companion could be real, people like her often got help. Even at the expense of themselves. To get such silly notions from one sentence was ludicrous, the high of stupidity.
And besides, he could never be like either the Hero or the Companion. He lacked the Hero's conviction to fight for a cause and the Companion's strength of character. He wouldn't have been able to last a second, doing the things they did. Again, experience had taught him so.
Joshua Martin could never be a hero, for he would never be good enough.
With a sigh, the ache heavy in his heart, Josh closed the book and rose to his feet. He pulled his house key from his pocket and went back inside his home. The sun was no longer warm.
Washington DC – America
2001
The room was cold and still.
A few days ago, the room would have been warm with character and life. Now, it was a corpse of its former self.
The antique desk drawers were barren, the bed was stripped of sheets, and all personal materials had been either boxed away or thrown away.
All except this one thing, given to him long ago. In what felt like another life.
Estevan Martinez stared down at the medal in his hand.
He stood in the cold and empty room, moonlight pouring through the window, staring down at the medal that had passed onto him. A token of love, a goal to strive for.
The medal had the image of a woman in Greek like clothing, standing upon a warrior's helmet with the sun rising behind it. In her hands was a broken sword, snapped in half. Inscribed on either side of the woman were the words World War II.
Estevan looked down at the simple, carved piece of metal and remembered the honour and duty that it signified. The bravery and sacrifice it represented. The awe it had brought forth in him. Now, as he looked at it, he could only feel the bleak, black despair of unendurable loss.
Estevan was no stranger to pain. Though only eight years old, he was quite familiar with physical pain. He could deal with physical pain easily, always had. This, though, this feeling like burning knives sinking into his heart, was new.
He hadn't imagined that pain like this existed in the world.
These past few weeks had been hell and Estevan knew things were only going to get worst. Everyone was in a panic, believing a new world war was on the horizon. Those that weren't panicking were still mourning the dead. Mourning those lost in the tragedy.
And the people in power? The people in charge? They were doing nothing, sitting by with their thumbs up their asses while the rest of them suffered. While those who had committed this vile, hideous action were still alive.
The very thought sent fury pooling thickly in his chest like magma, scaling his heart. His hands curled into fists, the pin of the medal sinking into his flesh. Estevan felt no pain.
It sickened him, right to his core, that such monstrous people lived in his world. Lived, and were not punished. Were not slaughtered for their crimes. But of course, there rules to follow. Rules and codes and shit like honour and justice even when people had literally been throwing themselves out the windows-
"FUCK!" With a furious shout, the medal flew from his hand and sailed through the air, colliding with the full body mirror on the wall. The mirror cracked.
Panting, Estevan stared at his shattered reflection.
How very poetic, how apt.
As Estevan stared at himself, as the moonlight cut across his face and was reflected in his eyes in blurs of red, he felt the rage harden. Felt the magma of his fury harden and crust over his heart. His breathing levelled out and he uttered, "Never."
There was evil in the world, and evil had to be fought.
But not as a soldier.
Being a soldier meant sacrificing himself to a cause he didn't really believe in, in following codes and rules he wouldn't have been able to stand. These things, like honour and justice, were merely shackles that would stop him from doing what was right.
Funny how it took the deaths of a few hundred people, plus one, to make him realise this.
"Never again."
Estevan Martinez swore, from that day onwards, that he would fight. But never under the orders of another.
He would fight for himself.
He turned away, leaving the medal on the ground of the cold and empty room as he closed the door behind. He never once looked back.
So, this was a thing.
Honestly, I'm Just glad I got this out near the deadline I set myself. Little bit late, but still here.
I'm not sure where I got the idea to do this, but it quickly became appealing to me the more I thought of it. To show the three main boys before they meet each other, before they go through the tragedies that shape their lives, I thought would make for a great show of contrast come the end. If I ever get there...
Eren's one, yes, is based on the flashback in Episode 5. I also used elements from the manga of the same scene, specifically Eren's skepticism to believe Armin.
Also, for those who are curious, the book Joshua is reading is Timewyrm: Revelation by Paul Cornell. It's the fourth and final book of the Timewyrm saga in the Doctor Who Virgin New Adventures. It's one of my favorite novels and I highly recommend it to any fan of Doctor Who and even to those who aren't fans.
Nothing else to say here except I hope you enjoyed it and look forward to the next chapter. It will be out very soon!