So this is my first fanfic I've ever decided to publish... I've read so many RiRen fics so coming up with an original idea isn't easy, but this kinda popped into my head the other day. Hopefully this will be a long fic, but I suck at pacing so hold on :3 Now, most of you probably think this is weird but I promise to be as sensitive as possible (note as possible with the idea lol), but if you find mentions of the holocaust, violence, racist/ homophobic/ sexist language or torture upsetting, please note they may be mentioned.

15-03-15: Update daaaay! I haven't finished doing the entire thing (got distracted hurn hurn) but this is definitely more up to my standards. The entire thing won't be a comedy, as it's supposed to be an angst story, but the temptation to slip in inappropriate jokes is too much. Also, I'll try getting the second chapter written and the end of this finished, but it may be next week. Oops. Please slap me if you wish.

Chapter 1

'Einz, zwei, drei, vier, einz, zwei - KIRCHSTEIN LIFT YOUR KNEES - einz, zwei, drei, vier…'

Practising along several acres of countryside, we ran laps for at least half an hour each day during the summer. During the day, temperatures soared as the sun beat down on the open grassland and maize fields. Well, it wouldn't have been terrible if one certain person could just disappear off the face of the planet. Preferably literally, and in the style that the cavemen or what-not believed you would have disappeared if you got a bit carried away gallivanting into the sunset ocean.

It's not that running was hard; it's just that after twenty minutes pretty much everyone would have appreciated a rest. So far, we'd done twenty-five hideously long, hup-two-filled, draining laps. I wiped sweat off my brow, flicking it away as I revelled in the slight breeze blowing across from the hilltop. I was leading a snaking trail of masculine ineptitude around and around a clump of grass, two days into the summer holidays.

A yelp, coming from a couple of dodgy runners behind, signalled that Jean had gracefully planted his backside into the dust trail. Marco, who had been running next to him, stopped and looked worried as he held out his hand at Jean and looked back at the instructor, who was sat on a tiny wooden stool with as much dignity as a six-foot tall German could ever muster, right in the middle where there was a clump of trees.

His voice echoed from the centre of the field. 'Kirchstein, your arse is not a plant. Clearly, skipping practise all throughout the last two weeks has made you grow flowers from your ears and roots from your anus.'

I ran on, laughing silently at Jean's situation. He'd been skipping for the last two weeks, in fact, because he had found true love in my kind, caring and sweet sister. Also known as stalking Mikasa at the Girl's League, and being spotted eyeing her arse from a distance. He turned up the next day with bruised ribs and scar down his temple.

Armin was jogging behind me. I felt bad hearing him rasp as he tried to catch up, but his intellect was both fluidly adaptable and brilliantly prodigal, which was enough to balance out his weedy form, all encased in a mushroom cloud of blond fluff at the top of his head. 'Eren, were you listening earlier? This is going to be the first day that we are going to be observed… and…'

Was there? I couldn't remember half of what the leader had told us. I spent most of the time staring at his bald head, and likening it to a coconut.

'Eren, you listening?'

'Yeah… that's strange though. They don't have a reason to observe anything, right?'

'That's what I thought. They usually are too absorbed in conversing in their own dialect, born from decades of educational beatings and good old German humourless success.'

'Hmmmm,' I replied, deciding to neglect my obligatory duty of understanding his words in favour of turning my attention to the leader.

He brought his hulk of a frame up with some difficulty off the long-suffering stool, 'YOU FLOPPY WURST-CALVES, GET YOUR ARSES DOWN HERE!'

'Shit just gone down with sassy motherfucking coconut,' muttered Connie.

I formed my part of the neat inspection row silently, tapping my finger against my thigh.

Coconut paced up and down the row, noticing our straight backs and heads. 'In a moment, esteemed members of our great civilization of far higher social hierarchy than you will be arriving. You will not speak out of turn, and you will not move out of line until you have greeted them. Have some courtesy for those who helped our motherland achieve such power that she has.'

'Mmm-right, that sass as fuck too.'

'Connie shut up.'

'Mmm-right.'

I glanced at Armin, who looked just as nervous as I felt. What were we supposed to be doing?

After about five minutes, Blondy returned, with two more men with him. Immediately, everyone raised their hands in a salute. I felt my sweat prick under my arms. One of them, with shoulder-length dark blond hair and an intimidating height, was a first-class SS private. The other man, with piercing dark eyes, sharp features and oddly – but not distastefully – cut black hair, was an SS storm-man. He was short, but his stare could intimidate anyone, shown by Coconut's demeanour as he conversed in hushed tones with him.

These men were usually reserved for important business. If they were going to be watching us today, it meant no talking and working as hard as we could without dropping down to the ground like flies.

Shorty looked up at me, and talked sideways to Coconut.

What? I look straight ahead, but I could feel the stare burning into my skull.

Coconut look surprised as Shorty whispered something to him, but he nodded and walked up to me.

Knees shaking, I kept my position and looked straight ahead. Nothing is wrong. Nothing…

'Jaeger, you are wanted for interrogation.'