-Nine Years Ago-

He turned his head away from his father pushing the last of the boxes onto the small moving van, holding back a sniffle. It wouldn't be manly to be seen crying at his age.

"Eren, sweetheart, let's get in the car, alright?" Eren jumped at the sound of his mother coming up behind him, carrying the keys to their car.

He nodded reluctantly and slid into the passenger seat as his mother climbed in the drivers. Eren barely noticed his father walk over to the driver window as Eren gazed at his now empty home.

"Just keep driving. Don't stop. Don't answer any questions. Don't take any calls, you hear me?" Grisha Jaeger spoke soft yet stern, cautiously looking at the neighboring houses as he talked.

Carla nodded gently with a smile. She then turned the key over and patiently waited for her husband to pull out of the driveway with the van.

As they pulled away, a few drops fell on both occupants of the cars' cheeks. Not that Eren would admit to it. Again, that wouldn't be manly of him, and he was becoming a man. That's what his father told him!

Not many minutes had passed before Eren's eyes had closed completely. His mind began to recall the happenings of the past few days. The event that had Eren becoming a man, so his father said. The event that caused the sudden moving. The event that ripped Eren away from everything he knew.

His tenth birthday.

-Three Days Earlier-

It was perfect.

The weather was a perfect May day with a slight breeze and few clouds in the sky. The house was clean. His party had just ended. Friends had been sent home, his numerous gifts filling up his room. His friends and himself had spent the day swimming in the pool that resided in the ground behind his house. Eren and his friends held as many competitions as possible. Whose cannonball was the biggest? Who could lap the pool the fastest? Eren was so proud of his swimming skills that he learned at the local swim team. And despite what the jerk from next door had said Eren definitely had had the biggest cannonball. The best part of the day was that Eren was ten. A big milestone for him.

He was currently curled up on the couch next to his mother. Eren firmly believed that sitting with his mom could never be seen as unmanly. Grisha sat in a reclining chair, smoking a pipe while they all watched a movie. But Eren's focus was more on the clock that sat above the TV, hanging on the wall. It was half past five. Seven more minutes until his actual birthday. Then it would be really official!

Five minutes remained when Carla stood up and walked to the next room, the kitchen. Eren knew he was going to get another slice of cake. It was tradition every year; a slice of cake before dinner on the minute he was born.

Three minutes remained as Grisha stopped the movie and snuffed out his pipe. The dark-haired man walked over to Eren, ruffling his hair playfully. His father goofily joked about him becoming a man now that Eren was in the double digits.

One minute remained as his mother walked out of the kitchen holding the cake carefully with its lit candle. She had a large, white smile gracing her face as she sat down next to her son.

Thirty seconds remained when both of his parents hugged him and Eren blew out the candle, giddily.

"Happy Birthday, darling."

"Happy Birthday, son."

Zero seconds remained as everything in sight turned black. Eren's back arched as screamed out. A pain worse than any knee scraping, any fall from a tree exploded on his back. His arms scrambled back as he scratched wildly. Eren could see nothing, could barely hear anything over his own screams. He cried out for his mother. His father. Anyone. Make it stop. Get it off him.

"Grisha! What's happening to him? Do something?" Carla tried to reach out and hold her son, but his thrashing was too intense for to get a secure hold of him. It's a mother's worst fear to see her child in pain. She felt helpless as Eren ripped away from her violently.

Grisha snapped out of his apparent stupor and grabbed onto his sons wrists, trying to hold back his thrashing. It took minutes of struggle, but it appeared as though Eren was tiring out. The boy slumped down onto his father's shoulder, chocolate hair stuck to his face that was covered in cold sweat. Carla began cooing and reached out to rub her sons back. The unconscious boy flinched sharply as his mother's hand touched him. Both parents' eyes widened at the action. Grisha stood up laying his son on his stomach length-wise along the couch. He silently walked to their bedroom, grabbing a first aid kit that was meant more scrapes and cuts caused by a child's clumsiness.

Settling beside him, Grisha reached gently down to pull up Eren's shirt where it seemed the pain had originated. He had it barely to the boy's waist when Carla covered her mouth, stifling a sob.

Grisha yanked up at the rest of the shirt, hoisting it up to the boy's shoulders. His fists clenched, Grisha stared blankly at his son's back. He then stood up and with shaking hands took the first aid kit and walked back to his room. The door slammed shut and through the silence anyone in the house would have heard the lock click just seconds before the crash of a metal box hitting a wall, inevitably leaving a hole that no one would fix.

Carla scrambled next to her son, fingers ghosting over the back of her usually deeply tanned son. His back was horridly red, as if he had been sitting in the sun for hours, which was normal for him, but Eren never burnt simply darkened. There were welts of even darker red from where Eren had scratched where he could. They looked more like a mauling from an animal rather than a young boy's nails. The worst part wasn't the red but the black that adorned her son's shoulders and back. As if someone had branded it there, there was a design that covered his entire. They were small shapes lining up into feathers that formed two wings. They covered from the outermost of his shoulder blades to the small of his back. If Carla had not just seen the boy's back a mere hour or so ago as he swam and if Eren hadn't been a mere boy, she would have believed that this was a fresh tattoo, professionally done in a shop. It was beautiful in a disconcerting manner.

Carla went to the kitchen fetching a cloth wet from the sink and a bottle of lotion. She glanced down the hallway towards her bedroom before sighing heavily and rushing back to the living room. Eren groaned slightly as the first touch of the cloth touched his back. His skin was warmer than even his higher-than-usual temperature. The cloth must have felt delicious had Eren been awake to comment. Gently, Carla ran the cloth along the design. She then rubbed some of the lotion onto his back, hoping it would soother her child somewhat. After pulling down his shirt, Carla left her son with a kiss on his head and went to the kitchen to clean up until Grisha cooled down.

Eren awoke with a gasp. His mother's arm was gently shaking his shoulder, smiling down gently.

"Eren, sweetheart, I'm sure you need the restroom. I'll grab us some snacks too." Eren glanced out the window of the now stopped car. It was pitch black outside, nothing more than a few stars in the cloudy night sky. Despite the darkness, even Eren could tell he was nowhere near home.

Stretching loudly, Eren unclicked his belt and left the car to head inside the nondescript rest stop. Eren found himself sitting in a stall, groaning. He didn't even have to really go, but he had to follow his father's rules.

Eren had awoken, feeling as though he had fallen out of a tree again. No, not even that compared to the soreness in his body. The boy flipped himself onto his back before immediately shooting back up. Eren tore off his shirt, twisting and turning trying to see what was on his back. Unable to see anything, he ran straight towards the bath room, closing the door loudly. He didn't even hear his mother call out to him as he stood back towards the mirror and twisted his neck to see.

Wings. There were wings on his back. It was almost funny had he not just felt the immense pain of whatever acquisition he just underwent to receive them. Even so, Eren still let out a giggle.

"I always wanted to fly!"

Carla opened the bathroom door, relieved it wasn't locked. She was expecting a furious child, crying or tearing something apart as he often had before when in a tantrum. Instead she gazed upon a boy smiling and laughing, as though he hadn't just passed out from pain. Carla fell to her knees next to her son and grabbed onto him, hugging him tightly. She began laughing through tears, joining Eren in his happiness.

Neither knew how long they stood or kneeled there, they only stopped when a throat clearing interrupted them. With a curt turn of the head signaling to follow, Grisha walked away and headed back to the living room.

They spent hours in the living room. Carla and Grisha spoke quickly and quietly as if Eren wasn't sitting with them. Eren didn't always know what they were saying but it all seemed quite heated. At one point Carla had stopped pleading about something and started to cry, Eren sat closer to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to comfort his mother if at all possible.

"Eren," The mentioned boy turned his head to look at his father. Grisha ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. He looked older suddenly as if the few hours had aged him.

"You need to start packing your things. We'll be leaving soon." Eren startled and began to argue back, but the glare Grisha gave him shut him up.

"While we're here still and from now on, listen closely now. Never, ever let anyone speak to you or even look at your back." With that, Carla gave her son a nudge, instructing him to head to his room.

That was the last time Grisha had actually spoken to Eren in three days. The only other times were to smack the phone out of the boy's hand, yelling at him for calling his friend. Eren wasn't allowed to say goodbye to anyone. Eren was worried about his swim team.

Eren shakily unlocked the stall door, once again holding back tears. He walked out of the bathroom rubbing his eyes unaware of the person entering. Eren fell back as he crashed into someone. Rubbing his eyes even more furiously, he picked himself up and ran away without looking back. He ran to the car and buckled himself in, pretending to fall asleep before his mother came back.

Shaking his head angrily, a man began brushing his front off for any possible child-germs that had attached themselves to the man's shirt, glaring in the direction that the child had run towards. One hand reached behind himself and absent-mindedly scratched.

"Shitty little brat didn't even say sorry."