"Again." Captain Levi beckoned, the recruit looking up at him with surprised eyes.
"Again?" the man echoed in disbelief.
"Yes, shithead." Levi was getting irritated, "You heard me. Get up and attack me again."
The man, well, more of a boy really, got up gingerly, dusting off his clothing as he did so. Levi had to resist the urge to sigh. While he appreciated the gesture of cleanliness, it served no functional purpose, and extraneous actions got you killed out in the field.
Finally, the boy put up his fists, though his eyes lacked conviction. There was no steel in the clench of his hands, no fire in how he held his body. Levi already knew the result, the boy had no fight in him. Period. He didn't believe in himself and that meant that he'd hesitate.
Hesitation also got you killed.
A lot of things could get you killed in reality, Levi knew. The trick was to reduce the "FF", or what was otherwise known among the Survey Corps as "the fuck factor". The amount of situations where you'd sit around wondering what the fuck happened.
Levi mentally checked off this candidate as a potential recruit for his squad. Let one of the other Captains have him. He didn't have what it took to be part of Squad Levi, and he didn't want to have to fill out the paperwork when the boy's inadequacies got him killed.
It was bad enough that he'd have to remember the boy's face when that happened. Levi refused to forget anyone who sacrificed themselves for humanity. It was a shame that people like this boy, who so obviously didn't belong here, would have to pave the way with their blood, sweat, and lives.
But what other choice did they have? They needed more people, more manpower. CommanderErwin was forcing him to take new recruits into his unit, that's how bad it was. Usually he got only veterans, but a recently failed Expedition forced everyone, even Levi, to lower their standards.
In came the candidate's fist, but there was no backbone in the strike and Levi easily sidestepped it, using his own foot to hook the boy's boot as he lumbered past. The candidate tumbled face first again into the dirt and the snickering of the other lined up cadets filled the air.
It was easy to laugh when it wasn't you on the ground.
"Do you shitheads find something funny?" He said quietly, confident that they would listen because it was him that was speaking. "If I remember, each one of you met the same fate as…" He let the question hang.
"Cadet Dackers." The boy mumbled from the ground.
"…As Cadet Dackers here. Or would any of you wish to try again?"
Silence. There was supposed to be silence. But the sound of someone clearing their throat drew his attention like blood to a predator. "Excuse me." A thin brunette, tucked near the end of the formation, stepped forward. "But you didn't test me, Captain Levi."
Levi homed in on her, walking down the ranks of arrayed cadets until the two of them were face to face. She was fit, as was the standard for those who graduated Boot Camp, and she was pretty in her own way, a quiet darkness that he could appreciate. But the best part was how her gaze did not waver, despite being eye-to-eye with him. Levi was impressed by her confidence.
"What is your name, cadet?" He asked.
"Cadet Mikasa Ackerman."
His eyes widened slightly. Ackerman? As in the surname of his adoptive father? Interesting.
"Alright, cadet. Show me what you can do."
Wordlessly her hands came up, lunging forward in a measured jab merely designed to distract. She was moving even as he stepped back, matching his pace. Again and again her fists flew out with surprising speed. Levi absorbed her attacks, dodging them, using them as a measure to see her potential. Occasionally he'd throw out his own feint, to see how she reacted. They fell into a comfortable rhythm of attacking and dodging.
Levi was no fool though. He could feel it, her determination, and under it all was a subtle current. She was like a coiled viper. It was obvious that she wasn't showing him her total potential; that she was holding back for the coup de grace.
He was the veteran of countless life-and-death encounters, and that gave him an advantage of instinct against those who had never danced with death on a daily basis.
He depended on instinct to avoid her blows as he kept his eyes peeled on her body, on her center of gravity.
It was the change of her hips that betrayed her plan. She kicked up a clump of dirt, twisting under the temporary blind spot that it created. But Levi had read the movement as easily as a book, and when she came up, he had already stepped close. She punched out, reflexively, in panicked surprise and it was child's play for him to grab her wrist and twist it around, and using his hips, he flipped her easily on her back.
He kneeled down, overshadowing her as she looked up at him. Her hair was matted in sweat, and dust clung everywhere. He could plainly see the fire in her eyes, the anger at being bested so easily. But beyond her eyes, her face remained impassive, neutral. It was a good look for her he decided. "Report to the Captain Hanji." He said, smirking. "She will direct you to the quartermaster to pick up your gear. Ask for the special, she'll know what it means. Our outload is a bit different that most squads. Congratulations, you're officially mine."
Levi stood up, biting back the smile as she denied his offered hand of help. Still, she was respectful, saluting smartly with her fist over her chest before falling back into ranks. He looked at the rest. They weren't laughing now.
"The rest of you report to Captain Hanji as well. Don't ask for a damn thing. You'll get your assignments in your gear. Dismissed."
A strawberry redhead made her way over to him as the cadets dispersed. "You know, Captain, you don't have to be so rough on them. Commander Erwin said you were to choose a few for your squad. Not beat them up."
He shrugged. "You'll learn everything you need to know by fighting someone, Petra."
"So only one was up to your standards?" Petra asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Barely."