Seventeenth:
The wide clearing is quiet. Still, unmoving, but not devoid of life.
What it has is the tightly coiled spring of excitement in the air, the moment of truth for others, of glory for some. Right here is where hundreds of trainees are gathered, feet wide apart and firmly clenched fist against heaving chests.
The trainers look on, gazing at the newest batch of recruits; some that barely passed, and some that exceeded even the most highest of expectations.
A high-ranking officer steps up, a small paper in hand. He separates himself from the line of witness officials, catching the attention of numerous eyes and waits for the collective withholding of breath from the students– graduates, at this moment.
He observes the unfamiliar faces for a second before raising the paper and reading the names of the students who topped for this batch.
One by one, they step in front. But he doesn't bother glancing up, preferring to finish the list before looking. Three names are left, the top three of the batch and the most gifted. Out of his lips, the last three foreign names are called.
"Arlert, Armin. Ackerman, Mikasa. Jeager, Eren."
When the shuffling stops, he slowly looks up to meet each gaze of the top three. And what he sees stops him, informs him why, beside their grades, these three were considered special.
They have what most lacks and what most thinks unneeded. These three...
They understand something that even he does not.
One-hundred-and-fifty-first:
"So what does he look like?" Hanji inquires, munching on a bread that looks stale but is not, and holding a folder of nearly crumpled documents that did not look important but are.
Erd shrugs, pauses, and stretches his hands in the air. The popping of joints and bones into place makes the man sigh in relief, makes Hanji scoff in disbelief.
"I can't believe you don't know, I mean, you've been with the kid for forty hours!" She bites more aggressively, frustrated at being forbidden to see the first breakthrough of humanity in a while.
"I was just his guard, you know."
"That's the point!" With half-chewed bread still inside her mouth, Hanji grits her teeth. But she understands.
What can Erd do, he was just one of the few unlucky (or lucky, in her opinion) people chosen to guard the cell of the latest but most dangerous experiment of the government to date.
"I heard stories though," Erd side-eyes his frustrated friend, "they say he had records of his birth in Shiganshina."
Hanji abruptly halts, swallows the last bite, and faces Erd. Her gaze is narrowed, an unusually focused expression plastered on her face. It was so different from the usual Hanji that Erd is familiar with that he is a little bit unnerved.
"The last update of the government's copy of the city's registrar before the Fall contains his name," he continues, "a son and a brother to a family."
"And?"
Erd shakes his head, "They probably didn't survive the Fall or he ate them after he snapped not long after."
Seventy-eighth:
"What the fuck?!"
The mess hall goes silent, eyes of all the students focusing at a particular upturned table. One of its occupant spits, blood and saliva staining the polished wooden floor.
"You," the whispered word is almost loud at the stillness of the room, carrying over the ears of the dozens of people waiting and carefully watching the scenes unfold.
Reiner, from his position on the floor, glares at the shadow before him. Another trainee like him, a really pathetic-looking one at that, had the gall to stalk up to their table and throw a wild punch on his face.
The frail-looking kid was breathing heavily, fierce hate on his eyes and a knuckle ready to deliver another blow. Behind him stood two other people, a girl with a dead gaze and a boy.
A boy with eyes so startlingly similar to his own, to Bertholt and Annie. The eyes of a true warrior, filled with purpose and determination.
But that was impossible.
"Hey, guys," Bertholt placates, trying to diffuse the situation and ease the palpable lines of tension wrapped around on each of their bodies.
It does neither, only serving to incense the blond boy judging from the grinding of his teeth.
A hand grasps his arm and Reiner looks up to see Annie, eyes clear and terribly intrigued. He accepts the help and hoists himself up to a standing position, towering over the seething boy. He waits for the next punch but this time, he is ready.
When the girl steps forward and puts a hand over the blond boy's shoulders, the other visibly deflates but the hate in his eyes does not waver. The other boy also moves, striding purposefully to his side and beckoning Bertholt and Annie closer.
The boy calmly cups his hands over the side of his mouth and the three of them leans in, past agitation momentarily forgotten in their curiosity.
"I know who you are."
Reiner freezes, sees his friends do the same, and a chill passes over his spine.
Third:
There is something red. Something liquid. A crunch of something brittle, something alive and then not. There is a high-pitched scream. Somebody calling out.
More screams. And a faint call of name. A name. His, hers, somebody else's.
Then there is pain, a sea of terror. Suffocating. A reminder of something. Something, but what?
"Eren! Eren! Wake up!"
The world behind his eyes is dark.
As eyelids flutter open, the rest of the world slowly comes to focus.
The darkness recedes, leaving behind the vague familiarity of the grass underneath, the cold rush of wind that leaves goosebumps on its wake, the rustle of the leaves overhead, the faraway noise of the market, and the lively chatter of people decorating the air.
Comprehension enters little by little. At that moment, the world narrows down. It shapes into a face so painfully familiar. Framed still by long dark locks and adorned by aged eyes inappropriate for a child's face, a little girl frowns from above.
"Mikasa."
Eren wakes up, denial and resignation tasting like ash on the back of his throat.
This is the first time he truly wanted to die.
Three-hundred-and-sixty-fifth:
The wall rebuilds itself once again.