Date written: 08/07/13 – 18/07/13

Posted on FanFiction: 20/07/13

–– CHAPTER 1 ––

Emergence

Armin couldn't think straight. The tragedies kept piling up, one after the other, and he could only stand there and watch as each one played out and replayed like a never-ending nightmare. His whole team was massacred. Eren sacrificed his life for him. And now Mikasa died as a way for her to be closer to Eren again.

This was not right. This was not how it should be. This could not happen!

But it did. Mikasa's severed arm lying on the ground, over fifteen meters below him, drove that fact home. Eaten by a Titan, leaving behind an arm for mourners to bury. Yes, in a very twisted and tragic way, Mikasa found what she was looking for, because Eren died the same way she did.

And now he was alone, alone to take on the threat of humanity, without support, without the chance of being saved anymore. He was on his own, and he never even got to repay the two for their friendship, for the hand they extended to him without a moment of hesitation. They were his friends, the best he could ask for, and so as his legs give out from under him, staring into the sinister grin of Mikasa's killer, seeing it stretch from ear to ear like that cat from an old story her Mom had once told, he was afraid of what he should do. Should he continue the fight or flee to coordinate a better plan of attack?

There was no point in giving up, not with the Titans knocking on Wall Rose's door, and it would not be long before the Armored Titan shows itself and breaches the second Wall. No, fleeing was the last thing on Armin's mind. Instead, it was trying to formulate and calculate and postulate the best possible outcome for all involved. But trying did not mean it had something to think over.

As it was now, Armin was too flooded with grief and despair to really think things through. All he could do was watch the grin on the Titan's gaping lips as it sat like a frog readying for a jump. There should've been warning bells ringing in his head, he should've been running away from the roof's edge lest that Titan decided to jump and chomp, but he couldn't move. His mind was beginning to blow out the fog trapped inside, but his body was too shocked by the death of his second closest friend to even demand movement.

Ah . . . it was just like before. The shock of death paralyzed him on the spot. It was only when he was close to being swallowed by that bearded Titan that his body found the urge to move despite it being too late. Would this be the same? Would he move too late to escape in time? Would he die like the rest of his friends and be nothing more than the digested remains of a monster? Did that mean . . . Eren's sacrifice was in vain?

No. NO!

He had to move. He had to move. He had to move. HE HAD TO MOVE!

Before he could find the power, however, whatever luck that kept him alive for this long still continued its winning streak. It came in the form of a giant fist bursting out of the Titan's mouth, splatting Armin's face with a bit of hot Titan blood. The appearance of the fist brought with it Armin's ability to move, and he slid up the sloped roof with fear in his heart and desperation in his head.

The frog Titan began to bloat and then explode into a gory mess, and from within a gaping hole, there emerged a more frightening Titan. With black hair, contrasting the brown of the frog Titan, and a physique that was rare to be found among its kin. Most were fat or skinny, but only one out of twenty could you find a Titan with excellent musculature. The new Titan radiated such untapped strength that Armin wouldn't be surprised if it ended up being the one to break down the last defense of Trost and give entry to the rest of its kind inside Wall Rose.

The Titan roared to the sky.

He flinched and covered his ears. Fortunately, the encompassing fear had not made him irrational enough to disregard every single detail of the creature. This was a new kind of Titan, one that was never seen before. Whatever information he could garner from it would prepare him and humanity with strategies if ever he got out of this alive and be debriefed about what he just saw.

It stood at fifteen meters when the Titan it emerged from was barely seven meters. Was this the evolution of these creatures? Did they require something from humans to evolve and change into taller, stronger Titans, thus explaining at least some of their cannibalistic tendency to devour Mankind? Or maybe the seven-meter frog Titan was a cocoon for this fifteen meter one, nesting inside the stomach until it had enough humans to eat to greet the world, like a caterpillar growing into a butterfly?

The blood on his face began to evaporate.

The rest of the frog Titan was evaporating as well, even the blood covering the new Titan's body. Its skin was almost yellowish, like a person in the early stages of jaundice, with scattered blue veins and red arteries visible on the surface. The cocoon and the butterfly were of two different forms that Armin found it hard to believe his first theory of the two Titans being the same. The first one had the body and face of a male, but this new one was undoubtedly female. What did that mean? What was the difference between a male and female Titan? Was this how they were able to reproduce their numbers that they cover the whole world beyond the Walls? So many questions wanting to be answered, but Armin suppressed them so he could concentrate on more of the Titan's features. Any detail could be important.

Its black hair reached its chin, masking its cheeks, but not the eyes and certainly not the full red lips.

Her eyes were wide and glossy and raven black, as if no light would think of reflecting upon them. The moment those eyes turned to look at him, it was like the world stopped and only the abyss beyond those eyes were what Armin could see or deem to look at. He could picture his death in her hands, either crushed like a fly or devoured like a tasty dessert. This time, however, Armin could not afford to let paralysis bring him to a fate he didn't want. His legs willed to move, and he swerved to sprint as far away from that monster, even with how low his gas reserves were. It was better than offering that Titan food on a silver platter.

Just as he turned, he saw another Titan in the midst of climbing the roof he was on. Brown-haired with squinted eyes, grinning as if it knew about some inside joke about the world that would forever be hilarious, one of its hands was already in the midst of grabbing onto Armin . . . and Armin just unknowingly dashed towards it.

He tried to change course, but it was too late. Hot fingers enclosed his body. He could no longer move.

The female Titan roared again and, as unbelievable as it looked, it jumped over twenty meters into the air before landing on top of the Titan grabbing him. The grip on him loosened and he was dropped close to the ledge. His legs came over the edge before he started grabbing for anything to keep him from going totally over. His hands found purchase with some shingles, though they were easily getting removed with the force he was pulling them with. He got back on the roof safely regardless.

Too busy from trying to keep from falling, Armin only managed to see the female Titan delivering one final blow on the nape of its downed brethren and bellowing a third roar, one he could say for certain was a war cry. Still, he couldn't really wrap his head around the fact that a Titan not just saved him, but also killed its own kind.

"Armin!" someone shouted to his left.

"Connie," Armin murmured, relief flooding in his veins.

"You okay? Boy, that was a close one, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." His attention was more on the female Titan and what its next move would be. Something was beginning to form in his head—an idea. A radical idea to be sure, but an idea that had merit along with the demerits. And he was not one to discard something just because it had both good and bad. If this was wrong, then he just had to think of a better one. And this was really the best one he had. Well, as long as he believed that he hadn't gone into delirium, like long term soldiers who had seen so many friends die that they started staring off into their own world and subsequently confusing fantasy with reality.

"We best skedaddle while we have the chance, man. I don't want to stick around with that Titan near us."

"Please wait a minute. I need to verify something here first."

"Verify what, exactly? That's a Titan! We're Titan food if we don't leave quick. The others might have already made it to HQ." Connie paused, looked around. "By the way, where did Mikasa go?"

"That's what I want to verify."

"Huh?"

"Never mind . . . ah!" Far in the next block, another Titan appeared. Skinny but a little muscular, it loomed fifteen meters tall like its female kin, and it was headed this way.

The female Titan roared again, as if provoking the enemy to come at it. The other Titan roared as well, accepting the challenge, and, knowing that it was about to come its way, the female put its arms up and—

"That's—!"

—assumed a martial arts stance Armin and the recruits had learned in boot camp. More pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. If what he thought was right, then that meant the female Titan was . . . was . . .

No, that was not possible. There had to be more clues, more proof that what he was seeing with his own eyes fitted with what his mind had conjured. He couldn't afford to bet everything on this theory and find out that it was wrong. But still, the issued challenge made this female Titan abnormal, to say the least. A martial arts stance, a desire to kill its own kind . . . what the hell was she?

The other Titan began to move, but just as he was about to sprint towards her, a fist, coming from the monster's left, landed on the back of its head, decapitating it ruthlessly and sending the severed head right at the female Titan, who only maneuvered her body to the left, dodging the projectile without as much as a twitch or a sign of surprise. The head kept flying until it crashed into the belfry of one of the neighboring towers. Armin and Connie stared at the sheer distance the thing was thrown before looking back at the steaming neck of the downed Titan. One raised foot came from the monster's left and bashed its nape when it tried to stand back up.

The Titan killer stepped out of the buildings blocking their view, and it was as imposing as the female. Chiseled muscles, long brown hair, elven ears, glowing green eyes, it was like staring at a war god in Titan form. The two stared at each other, gauging the other's power and what odds they have of winning. It might be a little exaggerated to think of the Titans thinking rationally and giving forethought on a battle plan, but that was what it felt like as the air tensed. Steam was coming from both of their bodies as the stare-down continued.

Neither wanted to do the first move for some reason, leading credence that the female at least was familiar with basic martial arts; it was not about strength, but the ability to redirect strength towards the enemy, thus minimizing effort and maximizing the counter.

Armin's eyes widened the moment the male put his arms up and assumed a boxer's stance.

"Wha—" At a loss for words, he could only gape.

"What the . . . fuck?" Connie at least managed to convey what Armin had in mind, though in a more vulgar term.

Sensing that her opponent was in no mood to step closer, the female slid her feet against the ground, moving slowly, retaining the stance, but closing the distance between them. The male, not to be undone, moved as well, but preferred steps over slides. Steps each taken with caution and no awkward footing, unlike normal Titans which believe that walking only means putting one foot in front of the other. It was like looking at two professional fighters prepping up for a ferocious battle, where there was no room for errors or mistakes, for to incite such a thing could mean the end of the battle in the enemy's favor.

Armin gulped. Great intelligence, situational awareness, and martial arts knowledge. Was this really happening?

He observed the female's stance more closely, how she slides with practiced ease, how she relaxes her muscles momentarily before tensing them again, how the steel in those black orbs glinted with an impervious will. The clues were all there, all there right in his face, yet a fraction of his mind where logic reigned supreme and did not even think twice to discard the flimsy notions of 'gut feelings' he often had about a topic swimming in his head. They were clues, yes, but the analysis remained inconclusive. Or rather, he refused to conclude the thought because to do so would mean admitting to himself that one of his closest friends had become a Titan.

That female Titan was . . . she was . . .

The male's patience grew thin. It yearned for a swift kill and it capitalized on it. When the gap between them lessened to twenty meters, he put both legs together, crouched, and launched himself forward, with one hand pulled back, aiming to land a solid haymaker right in the female's face. She tilted her head to the left, not unlike how she dodged the severed head coming at her, grabbed the male's wrist and bicep, twisted her body around, and pulled him over his shoulder, where his back met the ground.

The concrete below him cracked and the windows near them shattered at both the vibration and the violent wind. Armin and Connie steadied themselves and watched on, unmindful that they were leaving themselves defenseless for a fight that did not concern them directly.

The female Titan got the advantage of ground now, her opponent lying below her, still disoriented from the impact and with no way to defend himself. She sought some sort of payback, if that raised right arm was anything to go by. And in wind-scattering speed, her fist crushed bone and flesh, driving the skull deeper into the cracked concrete.

Armin had to steady himself again; the tremors from that punch was immense.

"Holy shit, man! The hell is she made of?"

He couldn't think of a reply. Such brute strength, compounded with her new Titan body, brought fear in him again. Was Mikasa even aware while in that form? Was she still the same old Mikasa he knew or was she now another abnormal Titan driven into a frenzy for battle, as if she had grown angry at fate not giving her the reunion with the one she wanted to be with? Would she fight and fight and fight until she spent every ounce of energy in her system? Did Titans even tire?

Armin watched as she lifted that arm of hers, the hand steaming and regenerating the lost flesh, still clenched into a fist and prepping for another strike. The sudden gust of wind, the downward motion, and the tremors that followed. Then the cracking noise. But his ears did not pick up the sound of ripping flesh and breaking bones.

He only blinked, but that was more than enough time for the male to initiate a fast counter. She tried to retract her arm and move away, but something seemed to have pinned in her place and her remaining choice was to ride out his incoming uppercut. Minimal damage sustained; she managed to position her head so that she would receive the least power from that blow. Even if that were the case, the punch was too strong to shrug off as if it were blocked. She still received damage in any case, and with that damage, there was momentum.

Five or six meters into the air, feeling the freefall before diving back onto the pavement, the remaining momentum dragging her farther away until she grabbed hold of the buildings on both flanks. She was in the middle of standing up when the male was upon her again, his mouth open and roaring a battle cry, his fist sailing quickly for her head.

She guarded herself, riding out the impact, and managed to stand her ground. She quickly grabbed his wrist, pulled him closer, and exacted revenge with her own uppercut. It was a strike that blew all expectations away. Connie looked too shell shocked to comment further on what happened, his eyes content in tracking the male's ripped jaw flying up, up into the air.

The male looked to have reacted greatly to that blow, wobbling in place before falling onto his knees and then lying face-first on the ground. With that, it seemed the male was down for the count . . . at least until his jaw regenerated. But Armin doubted the female would remain idle for that long. The uppercut tore apart her hand, leaving behind a stump of flesh with jagged, protruding bones. Steam covered the regeneration process of this injury. However, she was in no need of hands to do the rest of her job. One foot was already raised, seconds away from ending this battle with a swift finish.

But the male did not stand back up, did not move at all, and steam was quickly rising out of every part of his body. He was defeated.

The female lowered her foot and gave the corpse one last disdainful look—if it was really disdainful or just his mind playing tricks with him, Armin wasn't sure—before walking away.

"Did you just see what I just saw, Armin? You saw it right? Right?"

He nodded, not even trying to hide the nervous gulp bulging his throat. His mind, however, was on another matter. The female Titan should've sensed their presence by now. He could understand if she was distracted with other Titans coming her way (which also begged the question of whether or not she was also considered prey by her own species), but now that she was free so to speak, she had to have known that he and Armin were just a couple of buildings away from where she was. It wouldn't be that hard to come over to where they were and make a snack out of them, especially when their maneuver gears were low on gas.

"She's moving away from us," Armin voiced his most bewildering thought.

"No shit she is! And I'm damn glad of that. Did you see the way she moved? It was like seeing Mikasa making mincemeat out of Reiner."

"Yeah. Her form was like Mikasa's, too." No good. The belief was forming, solidifying. It wouldn't be long before he stopped denying and started accepting the fact that somehow, someway, his friend had turned into a Titan.

"Were those two Titans really using martial arts moves?" Connie's lips were pursed, his eyebrows narrowed deep in thought. "I remember seeing those stances back in combat training."

"Indeed they were," Armin murmured this time. Something about the defeated evaporating seemed enrapturing for him. That female wasn't the only abnormal one here. Connie inadvertently made him remember about the boxer's stance the male used during the fight, the ingenuity and precision of his moves that were so out of place in a Titan that it was beyond abnormal. It felt like looking at his corpse would shed some light into the many mysteries this encounter had piled into Armin's head.

His eyes tracked some movement from the corpse. Beyond the thick vapor, just below the male's half-disintegrated nape, a small part of the flesh there was disappearing quicker than the rest of the body. Armin narrowed his eyes. The form was familiar, but it was too far for him to make an accurate guess. He readied his gear and rappelled himself to the next building.

"H-Hey! Wait up, dude!"

He didn't take heed to Connie's cry. Desperation started to seep into his heart because while the form looked familiar, a part of Armin had already concluded what—and who—that form really was, yet logic would defy such a notion. It escalated to a mental tug-of-war and the only way to find a victor would be to check that form behind the vapor and validate his suspicions. And he never wished for his suspicions to be truer than he did that day.

His feet landed on the cracked pavement of street, discontented as he was about standing on a roof and looking at the form from afar. He needed to be as close as possible, but there was no real need. The vapor had long since thinned out and the lump inside the Titan's back had emerged completely.

"Eren . . .?" His foot took one step forward. "Eren?" Another step forward. "EREN!"

The run turned into a sprint. Damn it if the hot skin of the Titan corpse scalded his own. Damn it if Connie kept screaming from behind him. Damn it if by the time he reached Eren, he would realize that it was all just an illusion, his eyes wanting to see what he wanted to see because he was so desperate to believe that whatever happened to Mikasa could as well have happened to Eren. But what were the odds in that? Damn it if he knew. He just needed to get to him, quick.

He hugged Eren, now finding proof that it wasn't an illusion, that what he was seeing with his own two eyes was the real deal. He looked him over, taking note of the torn sleeve and pants leg, the same spots wherein the brunet was dismembered by two separate Titans. There were no stumps; his arm and leg had grown back, as if he had never been bitten by Titans at all.

"How? How could . . .?" He checked his pulse, wanting extra assurance that his friend was alive and well. When the healthy pulses bumping against his fingers weren't enough, he checked his heartbeat. Rhythmic beating greeted his ears, and the elation in his features showed.

Eren was alive and well.