He looked out at the rain; it was hitting dully, almost lulling the night to sleep on nights like these. Hikaru's mind was always captured in melancholy. From his training room window, the ring held by a leather strap around his neck was calling back distant memories. A tear dripped down his cheek as he remembered that fateful day the titans broke through the walls that had protected him during his short, blissful youth. That evening, he had been baking cinnamon rolls with his mother, whose ring he now wore. He remembered it like it was yesterday, the way the fragment of wall colliding with the bakery his small family owned in Trost crushing his mother instantly. The blood splattering onto the freshly baked breads as he removed them from the oven. Hikaru felt the blood across his pale cheeks and the pan clattered to the floor. Slowly walking over to the remains of his mother he let out a sob; her arm was all that remained. Sitting there for what seemed like an eternity, he heard the first thuds of the titan's feet entering the walls. Out the window, he saw them getting closer. He grabbed his mother's arm and ran, screaming for help and salvation.
Suddenly his feet left the ground, and a titan gazed at him hungerly. It lifted him above its mouth, in a panic he dropped the arm. The titan's mouth closed around it and instinctively dropped the young boy, he slid down the titan's body and onto a roof, his pants now dripping he ran as fast as he could. Later, he was helped by a member of the military police, but that fact made the day no less terrifying.
The officer's eyes were like a frog's - round and slimy. He had wrapped his thick arms around Hikaru's waist and proclaimed in a tone covered in sludge, "With all that's happening' why don't you give a guy some sugar? We're gonna die anyway why not have some fun." He inched closer menacingly.
A hand collided with the officer's face and he recoiled. Hikaru ran away, wiping his face with his flour and blood-covered apron in an effort to remove the snot and tears. He dashed over the dead and half-eaten bodies toward the gates, despair curling in his stomach.
His feet, burning had led him to the escape boats relatively unharmed. He curled in on himself as his mind let the events of the day overcome him. His last vision was from underneath a bench, of the desperate escapes praying for their lives, then darkness prevailed.