Hello everyone and welcome to: The Path of Kirschtein!
As a small warning there may be some naming errors (which comes from the large array of spellings to choose from) and some slight OOCness which is inevitable because of the alternate timeline thing.
Now that's out of the way, I really hope you enjoy my first Attack On Titan fic! :D
On the bank of the glossy river running through Stohess one young man and woman wearing Military Police uniform leant against a pale stone fountain, one smiling in the aftermath of her own joke but the other squinted contemptibly around the bright city as if it had personally offended him. Sapphire water trickled around them as the canal boats' wakes or the circular decoration behind them. It mirrored the cloudless sky above them which made the lines of mulberry tile stick out even more drastically.
Like almost all the cities of the world they knew, the houses within Stohess were tightly packed yet the architecture showed the signs of added finesse, more care, than what either of the MPs knew. Among the terraced houses, spires jutted out randomly in sign of an important building while a vast dome capped a Wall Worshiper's church. It was beautiful and grand and as elaborate as you'd expect from a city within the interior.
The ash-haired boy stood with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in particular at the girl to his right. The blonde's hair was ruffled up and she was pushing her body out suggestively while she flirted with two civilians, much to the other's irritation.
Hoards of citizens shuffled by them; a oddly dressed man carrying a baby, a ugly, sly woman who seemed intent on starting a fight, a very tall, nervous old woman clad in three heavy necklaces pushing her way through the crowd, and a well-built, distraught man being chased by a guard. The last example drew their eyes. A sour face turned cool as he watched with particular amusement.
The stouter of the men watched tentatively. He moved, faltered, and looked back to check on the other. "Shouldn't you go over and help them?" he wondered but his face showed he knew what the MPs' responses would be.
The running man stumbled over one of the many bridges and the MP started calling out in frustration, clutching his own rifle and biting his lip. A pair of cynical brown eyes followed the runner but their owner remained where he was. He only moved to rest his chin on his fist so he could continue watching the display from a more comfortable position.
"Come on, guys. I think he wants us to help him," the stout one continued.
Jean smirked just as a large clattering exploded through the everyday murmuring. A broad frame had crashed into one of stalls.
"I think he's got it covered."
Finally he prodded his taller friend, gesturing to the clock tower and pulling a face. The tall man rolled his eyes and winked. "See ya around, kid." He got to his feet and strolled away, swaggering slightly. Jean watched them leave, relieved for the reprieve.
"Jeeean!" she called playfully, finally knocking him out of his fifteen minute daze. She cocked her head backwards and grinned lazily. She reminded Jean of a cat, and not the type someone would enjoy as a pet.
"Dreyse," he returned curtly.
Hitch Dreyse giggled cawingly then pouted. "Aw, is that all you've got to say. Is wickle Marcy finally getting to you? Are you too scared now to hang out with the cool kids, worried we're going to rub off on you or something?"
Jean didn't reply verbally, he merely tried to remain neutral. Hitch annoyed him to but they at least had a common trait. Neither of them cared for the self-righteous bullcrap the others spouted and could at least admit they had selfish intentions. Jean knew others looked down on that mentality but as always, he'd chose survival over whatever the Scouting Regiment were doing. This meant that he never felt like he could hate Hitch but it didn't mean he actually liked her either.
Hitch beamed. "Now come and sit with me already!" She tugged on the hem of his jacket and tried to pull him down onto the fountain stone. There was no point in arguing by that point so Jean relented and sat down on the white brick staircase.
"So how is sentry with Marcy, you enjoying it?"
Jean shrugged noncommittally. "At least I can take a break off with you lot. Marco's been as usual, prattling on about the 'good inside everyone' or some bullcrap like that."
"Of course he did. Do you think he's one of those guys trying to get the MPs to change to the Scouts? Jeez, it's like people are trying to get us to kill ourselves." She hefted her rifle. "There's, like, no point to it but I would definitely shoot myself instead of letting a titan get its hands all over me." Hitch paused and smirked conspiratorially. "Do you know what?"
"What is it?"
"I think that the titans are all dead by now."
"What in the world makes you say that?"
Hitch inspected her nails, faking a casual air. "Come on, Jean. No-one's seen a titan in forever; no-one but the Scouting Losers, I mean. Do you really think that something that size could live all this time without food?"
Jean considered it, but couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. A world without titans, a world outside the wall, it had always been the fantasies of children to Jean. Something for idiots like them to dream about but not him. He wanted the interior because he knew he wouldn't have to bother himself with them.
"No-one's got any proof," he said plainly. "I think it's stupid to think that the titans are gone. It's nothing but wishful thinking."
She pursed her lips again and feigned hurt. "That's just mean." She giggled and broke the pointless façade. "But I wouldn't expect anything else from one of the Southern Districts. Trost, right? You're all so gullible down there, believing every little thing about all the big, mean titans."
Jean scowled and suddenly wished to change the topic. "Where's Marlowe anyway?" His smile crept back and he adapted a more mocking tone to fit in better with Hitch's. "It wouldn't surprise me if he was trying to break into jail to lecture all the prisoners."
Hitch laughed again and Jean avoided wrinkling his nose at the sound. "Hah! Yeah, yeah, he'd be all like," she lowered her voice and warbled in imitation of Marlowe, "'Don't you know that crime is, like, a crime and you should feel totally bad about it!'"
"Brilliant impersonation, Hitch," Jean deadpanned. She grinned again in reply.
"I know." Hitch's head twitched in the manner of a hunting animal and a smirk wormed its way across her face. "And speak of the devil."
Marlowe was looking very frustrated but he was never able to express that emotion as intimidatingly as he thought he could. He puffed out his cheeks, frowned, and furrowed his eyebrows. If you combined that with his ridiculous bowl haircut then it gave Hitch even more reason to burst out laughing like she did.
She bent over, kicking her legs, and gasped, her breath stolen with mirth that seemed exaggerated. "Oh, Marlowe! You really crack me up with all your seriousness!"
He was not as amused as Jean or Hitch. Jean smirked at Marlowe's indignant expression, something that consisted of him balling up his face which make him as threatening as a rabbit tripping over its own ears.
"What got stuck up your butt this week?" he called, sneering.
Marlowe brandished his finger and jabbed it in the air in front of the two lighter-haired MPs. "You! And you!" he said in a grand manner, pausing for drama.
Jean arched an eyebrow at him. "You can finish that sentence or you can, y'know, shut up, Freudenberg."
He inhaled deeply and his eyes bulged to the further entertainment of Hitch. Marlowe tried to ignore her screeching but it had been clear from day one that he wasn't the type to take anything in his stride.
"I know for a fact that you have not done a thing today despite our orders!" He waved around a sheet of paper: the list of tasks the higher-ups delegated each day.
"Marlowe, how long will it take you to realise that no-one gives a crap about that? It's only you and that loser Marco over there," Hitch sneered. "Get a life already."
Marlowe swelled up and turned on Jean. Jean stared down the index finger of disapproval, raising his eyebrow again and waiting for whatever idiocy would leave Marlowe's mouth next.
"And you! How dare you act so nonchalant after your persistent tardiness? How dare you call yourself a member of the Military Police and continue to act so…so…lazily!?Now listen. The commander wants us all to..."
Marlowe stopped as Jean got to his feet, his blood pulsing. Jean's balled-up hands twitched in anger and the brunette's anger bubbled under the skin. It was only a few triggers away from erupting but unfortunately Marlowe wasn't as good as reading Jean as Marco was.
Jean seized the soldier's outstretched forearm and pulled it away without much resistance. Marlowe stared and struggled yet it didn't make any difference to Jean. He pierced the other teenager with his glare and finally frightened him into submission.
"Listen. Up. No-one," Jean tightened his grip so his nails dug into the skin, "cares what you think! So shut the hell up!" He shoved him and sent Marlowe sprawling across the stone road. The young MP grimaced and groaned and Jean revelled in it. "Maybe it'll sink in," he spat.
"Ow!" Marlowe moaned while he massaged his paining arm. Jean ignored him.
"Wow, Jeany," Hitch purred. Jean ignored her too. He didn't want her praise. Instead, he reached out for his rifle and slung it back over his shoulder. Jean stormed off without a word, not feeling the need to explain himself to them.
The Military Police was the plush life, but it was not an easy one. Then again, Jean doubted that anyone inside Walls Maria, Wall Rose, or Wall Sina could really say their life wasn't difficult. It was one of those days where he was just sick of Stohess, sick of everything. Was there a place where he could get away from everyone? As a member of the Military Police, Jean had settled quite comfortably into the plushness of corruption and sloth of interior life. He wanted the safe life and thought that after all his effort he rightly deserved it. Admittedly he hadn't been first, in fact he'd been designated sixth best in his squad, but they were only numbers at this point. Jean hadn't thrown his life away like some of the bastards he'd trained with so he was feeling happy. Not that you'd see it on his face.
On normal days it was easy to tune everyone out. Hell, he would even join in on some days but today...
It was easy patrolling the city and not giving a crap about any of the people inside it, the only problem were the others. Jean considered Hitch's name to be a letter off from her true description and it was bad having to face the overly righteous pricks like Marlowe at Headquarters but then there was Marco Bott.
"Dammit," Jean muttered. The city was bustling as usual so the search for an empty space to get away from it all was failing. Midday invited more and more people to come out to annoy Jean with their average mumbles and regular havoc. He passed building after building, alley after alley. He supposed that the cracks in the terraces would be quiet but he also knew that the shadows of any city would not welcome anyone clad in the uniform of a Military Police member, unless they were selling them something of course.
His eyes danced around, scanning constantly, until he finally found what looked like a reprise. It was a dark stairway to nowhere. Jean approached tentatively, bracing in the case of someone waiting in ambush. As he peered down into the black, Jean noticed it was all clogged up with boulders, the remnants of construction perhaps? In hindsight he didn't care.
Jean was happy to lie down there. The noon air was lukewarm even in the shade so it was pretty comfortable, much to his surprise. It wasn't silent. Nothing in Stohess was completely silent, yet he felt the heat charging his emotions die down in the peace. He muttered swears at curses at all the irritating faces swimming around in his vision. He waved his hand in front of his face absently but didn't the images didn't clear. He sighed. Today would be one of those days his mum always talked about.
"Maybe I can at least get some sleep," Jean said to no-one especially. He closed his eyes and expected to drift off when he could. He wasn't a heavy sleeper so he could easily wake up before his absence would cause any real messes.
The high sun made no impact on the darkness he soon found himself in. He readjusted, shuffled, and pushed his rifle back off its strap and finally relaxed. Well, he relaxed as much as he could. Jean thought that moment there was better than anything he would get at Headquarters, where all the other MPs loomed like vultures, waiting to annoy him. They were all either as corrupt as him or as 'nice' as Marco. Neither of them were good options but there never seemed to be any middle ground.
It had been only a fortnight. Only two weeks of the Military Police. Jean still wasn't sure whether he preferred it to training yet but he expected it would get better. He was at least allowed to stop and rest here in the city, and that's what Jean intended to do.
Sadly, there were other plans at work.
"Jean?"
Jean lifted his hand to his face and sighed. "What is it, Marco?"
"Marlowe told me you'd disappeared so I wanted to know if you were okay."
"Bloody Marlowe," Jean hissed to himself, and then to Marco he said, "Yeah, and?"
Marco smiled. "Are you?"
The warm light broke around Marco, making him appear to glow as he cast a shadow into the dark enclosure Jean was lying in. The taller MP pushed himself upright; he felt too much like a child when he was lying down under Marco like he was.
"I'm sick of all of you," he replied with sharp honesty.
Marco shifted his weight cautiously. "I'm sorry, Jean." He stepped forwards into the small space and flopped down onto the white stone. Marco leant forwards as smiled down at Jean from the higher, sunbathed ground. "What it what I said earlier? I didn't really mean for it to be…"
"Shut up," Jean said lazily. "You didn't do anything. It's Boris, Marlowe, Hitch, and the others. I'm tired and I don't want to have to deal with them, understand?"
Jean nodded absent-mindedly and turned away as Marco glanced around, looking for something else to talk about.
Whenever Jean had to look at his speckled, ever-smiling face he always felt a spike of annoyance stab at him internally. It wasn't even his stupid morals that irritated Jean the most, even though that was still a large factor, it was his stupid naivety. He honestly wanted to serve the king and all sorts of crap like that. However, despite everything that annoyed Jean about Marco, the former couldn't help but like Marco. He was always kind in a way that was creepy and unnatural but, then again, it meant he was always kind.
They were always officially stationed together just because Jean had opened his trap in front one of the so-called commanders. It had been eternal torment and Jean knew whenever he returned with a deeper scowl than normal they would laugh as if it was funny. Still, they'd known each other for too long so he'd already had a head start on chipping away Jean's defences. Jean's attitude varied drastically when it came to his black-haired comrade.
"...right, Jean?" Marco had apparently been talking. Jean had woken up in a poor mood after Boris, Hitch and all 'forgot' to wake him up so he had no patience left to spare.
The brunette straightened up and stared into the other's eyes mercilessly. "Marco, I honestly don't give a crap. Why don't you just go hang out with Marlowe or something? I'm done for the day."
"But it's barely midday."
"Don't care."
Jean was already aware that the young MP didn't approve of what he was doing and Jean didn't really understand why. There was no point in joining the military for anything other than the lax life of an MP. The Garrison Regiment were glorified sitters and the Scout Regiment were out to risk their necks for no reason. Wall Sina was much better for Jean than either Rose or Maria.
The tips of Marco's lips were downturned, probably the closest he could get to a frown. "I'm sorry, Jean. I just think that you'd want to do something nice, or something useful, now you finally got what you want. Surely you can't want to laze around all day."
Just to prove him wrong, Jean leant further back against the fountain. He smiled quite nastily. "Cut the crap, Marco. You're no nobler than the rest of us. You're looking for the cushy life like every other MP."
Marco's eyes fogged over and he looked away. Jean didn't hide his groan. He knew what that expression meant.
"Save it, Mar..." he began but Marco wasn't taking it today.
"I don't think you're as selfish as you pretend to be, Jean."
Jean started to roll his eyes but once again Marco cut him off.
"And I think it's dumb that you want to be seen like that. I know you have the talent to change things around here: I saw that in training and, you know what? I've seen it recently as well."
The brunette stared. His mouth was open but wordless. After so much babble, he was still saying something Jean didn't understand, but now it was a different type of incomprehension.
Eventually he managed to force out a laugh. "Me. Change things? You're even more screwed in the head than I thought, Marco. One day you'll learn that, around here, idealists tend to get beaten down."
But his expression didn't catch up to his voice's snark. It was odd for Marco to say something like that after nothing but unkindness on Jean's part. Marco seemed to understand Jean's confusion even more than Jean himself did. The freckled MP was quiet and knowing, looking content.
"Anyway. I was wondering whether you'd heard of the Titan Show next month."
"The what?"
"The Titan Show. Apparently they need some of us to go down to Wall Maria in order to help out with security."
Jean sighed. "No, Marco. I meant what the hell is a 'Titan Show'. It's sounds stupid to me."
Marco shrugged and gazed towards the poster he'd spotted. Jean readjusted himself and craned his neck to steal a glimpse at it. There was large black writing over the Scouting Regiment's emblem and what seemed to be an imitation of a Scout wielding his blades. Jean doubted it was intentional but amused himself at the image of a man hacking at the so-called 'Wings of Freedom'.
"No-one, well, no citizen has seen a titan in over a hundred years; I think it's even a hundred and five by now. From what I've heard it was Commander Erwin's idea. They want to show off all they've learnt so they're bringing some titans near the wall to..." Marco didn't sound too enthusiastic about the idea. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and made the second attempt at finishing his sentence.
"To kill the titans in front of the crowd."
Jean barked a laugh. "That's ridiculous! Baiting the titans? That can only end in disaster."
The freckled MP chuckled quietly like he was forcing it for Jean's sake, a pretty pointless endeavour. "Yeah...But that's why they're asking for so many soldiers to come out and help. It sounds like all three regiments are going to be security and even after that, I think the public's going to be behind the wall anyway. They'll manage it. I know they will."
"That sure is reassuring. I think I'll pass, Marco. I'd rather stay here than go anywhere near Wall Maria. Plus, if the Scouts are involved, there's the chance I'll run into them."
"Really?" Marco's voice was disappointed although he still refused to drop his small beam. "I thought it would be fun to see Sasha, Eren, and Mikasa again."
"Sh-Shut up." Jean clenched his fists and tried to avoid Marco's deep brown eyes. His eyes were always searching strangely yet it never occurred to Jean that it was out of curiosity or malicious intent. His face was burning against his will and he quickly made to escape his sight. Marco just wanted to understand him, something that was quite of the question then and there.
Jean clambered out of the stairwell and glanced around, imitating Marco's search for another topic to distract the two of them. "I'm going off. It looks like I'll never get that sleep so might as well do something," Jean mumbled.
Marco sprang to his feet and adjusted the strap of his rifle so it wouldn't stick out. Jean knew that Marco liked to hide it at the best of times but there was seldom an opportunity when they were on a patrol. He was nothing but another MP to every citizen whose eyes happened to flicker his way. Jean was fine being another member of a corrupt organisation but he couldn't help but feel Marco deserved to be seen as more than that. Not that there was anything Jean could do about it.
"Marco, I'm going..."
He was interrupted by a thick, strident sound: a short scream that came almost as soon as it went. Both heads snapped to the shriek's direction like magnets to metal. Marco's expression fell with abrupt certainty. He became so pale and worried-looking that the happiness might have literally drained from face.
Jean clenched his fists and jaw. He grinded his teeth in apprehension and his eyes danced around the barren street, wasting no time. The sound came from the south but all he saw was a wall of houses, not letting away any obvious path, until he spotted the narrow crack.
"The alley," he announced. Jean didn't need to supply any extra context. Marco locked his eyes on the place in question and started to run. Jean followed after only the briefest moment of hesitation.
Their boots clapped loudly on the ground, throwing more noise into the collage of city noise. Doors flew past Jean's view but he saw nothing but Marco who sprinted onwards, determined.
"Hello?" he called out loudly, listening out intently for an answer. "Who's there?"
The two MPs gradually petered out and slowed to a brisk jog. Jean cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted but neither of them had had a single response since hearing the first cry. "If you wanted help..." Jean muttered open-endedly as they ran, then his eyes widened.
Jean's hand snapped out and he seized Marco's shoulder, stopping him from colliding face-first with the cobblestone beneath their feet. Marco lurched and waved his arms but thanks to Jean anchoring him, he managed to keep upright.
Jean let go and Marco straightened himself, flashing his friend a grateful expression. Jean's intelligent eyes travelled past that and had already begun to inspect the ground around him. It didn't take him long to locate the object that had snagged Marco's foot since it lay alone on the otherwise clean bricks.
He crouched low and picked the fist-sized plum bag. It was heavier than he'd expected but that weight drastically diminished as coin spilled out like a clattering waterfall so dulled gold could splash out. Jean quickly scooped the coins back into the bags and pulled on the thin rope, trapping the metal inside once again.
"This must have been a robbery," Marco concluded. He bobbed up and down on the balls on his heels, having found no-one around.
"Hmmm." Jean twirled the bag around and listened to the sound of money jingle inside. He smirked. "There's no-one around. How about we just keep it?"
Jean raised his hand before Marco could even open his mouth. "Jeez, Marco. You know what I meant."
Marco's lips tightened. "Okay, Jean. But we really should return it as soon as we can. I think it's best if we just hand it back to Headquarters."
Jean scoffed. "Yeah, so then they can steal it. It can go full circle." His voice was embedded with the combined sarcasm of years' practice.
"Then what would you do with it?"
He stopped twirling the bag and halted while he mulled things over until they rolled out as a groan. "Urgh. Fine. I guess they'd have to give it over if someone reports it. You coming?"
They'd ended up in an area bathed in shadows thanks to the tall buildings reaching upwards on both sides. It was difficult to locate any of the landmarks in town because of it so the two of them could consider themselves lost if not for the fact that there were only two ways to go.
Jean decided to continue going on. The two strolled forwards while Jean plastered a smirk across his face. He wondered what it was like for all the wealthy in Wall Sina, the ones who'd been assured of their lives from the day they were born. The ones who hadn't been forced to spend three years training as a soldier to stay here.
It was almost an alien thought to Jean. Although, if he was truly earnest, he wouldn't have sacrificed his life in Trost or his mum.
"Please, don't!" Jean heard Marco say to his side.
Jean drew to a standstill and stared at the building tops above shining with the sun they blocked. "What is it, Marco?" he wondered lazily, not really paying attention. He wasn't even sure what Marco wanted him to stop.
"Please!" Marco repeated, now standing behind Jean after stopping before the latter. Jean's forehead creased in confusion so he turned his head.
"Marco, what..?" It wasn't a loud sound but the wet sheathe gurgled in his ears and chilled his insides to ice.
Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and I would love if you review it with your thoughts on the series and how I can improve; this is for you after all! :D
