Author's Note: This chapter took way longer than it should have to write. I'm really sorry about how long it's taking to get them through training; once things start picking up, I promise it'll be more interesting.

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Levi, 832

Everyone came to the Training Corps with different fears and things they hated. Lorel hated lizards, and Skena wouldn't stay in the same room with a spider. Dietrich, despite his laughing nature, was claustrophobic to a fault; Emil was scared of falling behind in their training. Levi needed things to be tidy. Micah, huge and bulking, would squeal at the sight of a mouse. Hanji didn't seem to be afraid of anything, which made some of the other cadets afraid of her. But there was only one thing that would make every trainee, even Hanji, grimace and want to hide under the covers.

Breach drills.

It was nearing two in the morning when the door burst open with a crash like thunder.

"BREACH! BREACH! BREACH IN THE WALL!" boomed Eisen's deep voice, echoing through the dormitory and around the skulls of every groggy boy. "Full gear, ladies, NOW!"

They had sixty seconds. Any more, and they would run the compound circuit, over five miles in the frigid December night.

Levi's brain felt like mush. His body felt like worse. During their first season of maneuver gear training, they hadn't needed to focus on calisthenics, since just working the gear required strength enough to keep them on form. Since the first frost and the end of the gear training, however, they'd picked back up again. They ran each morning, no matter how cold or wet or slippery, and sometime during each day they took time in the gymnasium, a large building next to the bathhouses, to work on their strength.

He'd barely begun to sit up on his top bunk when Dietrich's strawberry-blond head popped up over the railing.

"Let's move, Levi, come on," he said quickly, swinging an arm over the rail to tap Levi on the center of his chest.

"Yeah, I'm up, I'm up," he said thickly, his tongue feeling like lead in his mouth. He shook his head savagely, the pain of it – and the noise as the bunker sprang to life and Eisen shouted abuse – bringing him back into himself enough to hop down from his bunk and get into his footlocker with his gear.

Fifty seconds.

He slid his pants on and threw his shirt over his head, yanked on his trainee boots. His pants were now a full three inches shorter on him than they had been in the spring, he noticed, and his plain white shirt and trainee's jacket were getting tighter through the shoulders with each passing week. Soon, he'd have to speak with the quartermasters about what he could do about it.

He pulled his harness from his footlocker and began the process of strapping into it.

The pieces of a soldier's gear were added gradually, and could be used as indicators of where they were in training. First, they'd only been given their white uniform pants, a jacket, and whatever shirt they could scrounge from the requisition office. When they were deemed proficient enough with the maneuver gear to use it in strategic exercises in the forest, they were issued their own harnesses and allowed to wear them as a part of their uniform.

The future promised more. After they learned to shoot, they'd be given a shoulder holster to wear under their jacket, although they weren't allowed to have weapons of their own until they graduated. In the spring, when they were taught horseback, they'd receive the iconic-looking riding boots with the flaps at the top. Only the five highest scores in tactics and strategy would be given a pocket telescope.

Forty seconds. Levi was still struggling with his harness. His hands and feet felt too big for him, and his hair was getting too long, thick and black sticking out all over the place, never behaving itself no matter how much he tried to comb it.

Thirty seconds. He narrowly dodged Dietrich's flailing arm as the taller boy had an equally epic battle with his own gear. Levi heard himself click his tongue without even thinking about it as he fought to get the belt of the harness to sit properly.

Is it because I'm tired? he wondered. Have my hipbones always stuck out like that and I just didn't notice?

Twenty seconds. The belt would have to do as it was. Once he wrestled the rest of the straps into place at his chest and arms, it was easy enough to grab the maneuver gear itself and click it into its place. He ran his fingers through his hair with one hand in a futile attempt to make it presentable while the other hand reached out to grab his jacket –

No. Not his jacket, he realized as he picked it up. It was too big, made for someone taller. Not his jacket.

Ten seconds. Panic was setting in.

He whipped around, looking for any sign of where his own jacket had gone; the first logical location was his bunkmate. Sure enough, Dietrich had a jacket hung on top of his head as he finished strapping in the metal maneuver gear – and even surer, it looked far too small for him.

"Tch, idiot," Levi hissed, jumping up to grab the smaller jacket.

"Midget," Dietrich retorted automatically. Levi threw the larger jacket at him and he snatched it from the air.

The two fell into sync. Get the jacket on. Adjust the gear. Get into line with everyone else next to the bunks. Try to straighten the hair one more time. Nope, just made it worse again.

They struck their salutes with half a second to spare.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Eisen's sharp eyes fell on Sigmund Casimir, who stood across from Levi and a little ways down the long room.

"Casimir, why isn't your gear on straight?" he asked calmly.

Sigmund glanced down at his maneuver gear. Sure enough, it looked askew, and for Levi, it was plain to see why. He stifled a groan, knowing right then that there would be no reprieve for them tonight.

"I-It wouldn't go on right, sir!" Sigmund said.

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Then you're as dumb as you are ugly, boy, because your goddamn harness is on backward!" Eisen snapped. "Looks like we're running your favorite circuit, boys! Move out!"

There was a quiet collective groan that echoed through the dormitory, but they knew better than to openly challenge the order. Levi saw someone reach out and smack Sigmund on the back of his head as he sheepishly took off his harness and put it back on the right way. There could never be any real resentment, though, when it came to these small mistakes; by now, they'd all had their turn being the one to make them run.

Dietrich sighed and stretched, glancing at the clock as they moved into the line of boys moving out.

"Isn't it the twenty-fifth?" he muttered, then reached over and ruffled Levi's hair. "It's your birthday, isn't it?"

Levi shrugged. "Whatever."

"Don't look so pissed," Dietrich said with a grin. "Make a birthday wish on the run or something."

"Wish to get taller," Emil teased from behind them, clapping him on the arm. "Happy birthday, Levi."

A few more of the boys around him nudged him sleepily and made similar affectionate taunts followed by birthday wishes. It had taken him months to realize that their teasing was a way of making him their friend; now that he knew, it was easier for him to participate by throwing back similar insults, and as his hair was ruffled a third time by a taller boy, he even laughed, swatting the hand away.

As they emerged into the cold, dry air of the campus, Levi silently thanked whatever gods controlled the weather – at least, he thought, it wasn't raining or snowing, unlike the last time they'd run. Hearing a commotion off to his right, he glanced across the yard at the girls' dormitory.

"Looks like the girls didn't make the cut either," someone muttered. Across the yard, one of the girls shrieked at the cold, met by laughter from her companions.

"Hey, ladies!" Dietrich yelled when they were close enough to hear. "Looking lovely as ever tonight. You come here often?"

"Oh, yeah, all the time," someone yelled back; it sounded like Emma. "It's a great place to find idiots to beat the shit out of!"

"Yeah, we found one already," Lorel, who was at the front of the group, said, pointing at one of the boys. The cadets laughed until Eisen came out and snapped at them to get into proper formation, which they did.

They were in good spirits, at least, for the grueling run. It made Levi feel a little better.

"C'mon! Try again!" Hanji giggled, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"You keep moving," Levi said through gritted teeth, barely audible over the sounds of blunted practice swords meeting each other in the gymnasium. The strength training equipment had been cleared to the edges of the huge room for them to learn swordplay.

"Well, yeah!" she said. "Your target's not gonna stand there patiently for you to hit it!"

When he had chosen Hanji for his partner in this subject, he'd been banking on her inexperience with it. But although she had trouble with actual parrying, she dodged like water – the padded jackets that they wore to prevent injury seemed to do nothing to impede her movement.

Steeling himself, he tried again, an underhand lunge at her. Sure enough, Hanji twisted and danced away, still laughing.

"Okay, again!" she said happily. He scowled and she added, "Oh, don't make that face at me, Levi."

Levi glanced over at where Skena and Lorel were going through motions with much more skill. Skena looked more than familiar with this than anything they'd learned so far, and suddenly he remembered that she was a nobleman's daughter; she'd probably learned at least the basics from a proper master-at-arms. Every so often she stopped to show Lorel a better way to go about a riposte or lunge, but the duels she lost seemed almost intentional, to give the blonde girl some reassurance. She may have struggled with the physical training at first, but Skena seemed born to do this.

She glanced at him and gave him a little smile, then tilted her head, furrowing her brow; his sour mood was plain on his face. After saying something to Lorel, she came trotting over to them.

"How are you guys coming along?" she asked.

"Levi can't hit me," Hanji teased.

"She keeps moving," he said. "She won't actually fight me."

"Hanj, don't be mean," Skena said. "How are either of you gonna learn if you don't stop and help each other? Here, Levi, let me see your grip."

He did as she said, holding up the sword for her to examine. She tucked her own under her arm to use both hands and began to move his fingers.

"It has to be delicate," she said. "The sword should be an extension of your arm, not just a tool."

When she was sure he had the proper form, she had them go at it again, and again, Hanji dodged him with ease.

"She's so quick," he growled.

"You're quicker," Skena said. He looked at her; she seemed annoyed. "You're trying to hit hard, when you should be trying to hit fast. It takes less than a pound of pressure to cut skin, did you know that?"

"How would you know?"

She shrugged. "My cousin told me. He's the one who taught me."

So it wasn't a master-at-arms at all, he thought. You learned just like this, once. The thought made him feel a bit better.

"Hanji, you can dodge well, but if you don't learn to parry, what are you even doing practicing?" Skena continued. "Lorel's waiting for me, so I have to go back. But keep going."

Hanji watched her walk away and then leaned in to speak softly.

"Did you know that her cousin is the heir to the North?" she said. "Emma told me that Emil told her that she should have been first in line to inherit, but her father petitioned the king to let him give it to his nephew instead, and the king granted it."

Normally Levi wasn't interested in gossip, but he couldn't help himself. "Why?"

"Nobody knows," she said. "Maybe it was in punishment for something. That's what Lorel thinks, anyway. Emma says it's just because she was really timid as a child. But I mean, Emma is from Shiganshina, what does she know about the North?"

"Hm. Hanji?"

"Yeah?"

"Do people talk about me behind my back, too?"

"Of course they do, you idiot," she said. "They talk about me, too. Everyone talks about everyone else."

"Tch."

Hanji smirked. "Do you want to know what they say?"

"God, no. Let's keep practicing."

The spring rolled in pale and fragile, the tenacious chill of winter clinging until well after it usually subsided. In April, they began training with horses.

Levi had never gotten along with the great beasts. As far as he was concerned, they were smelly, filthy creatures, and when you were a small urchin in the crowded city, it was more than easy to get tangled underfoot and trampled. And despite his recent growth, they were still much bigger than he was.

Eisen taught them how to mount and the basics of how to behave around them. It was easy enough to understand in theory, but in practice, it may well have been the hardest part of training thus far. On top of the horse, Levi's stomach turned, his heart fluttering and his head spinning from the feeling of being so high off the ground. His hands were shaking, he realized, and quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed. His hair had gotten even longer than it had been in the winter, and it swung gently with the motion of his head.

Hanji seemed to be more concerned about making friends with the horse than learning to master it. Across the yard, Sigmund was sitting comfortably, accustomed to riding from helping his father with their herds. Emma and Dietrich looked a little nervous, but otherwise they were having fun taunting each other. Huge Micah was concerned about whether he was too big for the horse to carry, even after he was assured that it would be fine. Skena kept a posture and rigid form of holding the reins that was obviously taught to her by a noble tutor.

And then there was Lorel.

Brelsen's primary form of trade was horses, he'd heard somewhere, but looking at her, he wouldn't have needed to be told by anyone. Watching her mount up and test the horse in a little circle was like watching some kind of centaur creature coming to life, as though she and the animal were fusing and becoming one.

Levi's horse threw its head and he jumped slightly.

"Levi, don't!" he heard Lorel call. She walked the horse languidly over. "If you startle, then he will too, and the last thing you need is him bolting with you."

"Is...is that something that happens often?" he asked.

"If he's not trained well, yes, but I think these are Scouting Legion horses, judging by their temperament. And just look at how big they are!" she giggled. "He's way too big for you, actually."

"I'm not that small," he said sullenly.

"I don't mean that! I mean too big for your skill level. You've never been on a horse, have you?"

"I have too. Once. Fuck!" he exclaimed as the horse shifted beneath him and reached his head down to sniff at some grass.

"It's okay, he's just bored, that's all," she said, patting her own horse's neck affectionately. "A horse can tell within ten seconds whether their rider is experienced or not. They've each got personalities that are worth learning."

"They're...they're really just animals, Lorel."

She tossed her blonde hair, her lips forming up into a pout. "They are not just animals! They're practically partners for a soldier! Now come on, Skena and Dietrich have already moved out into the field proper."

He glanced across the corral where they were sitting and out into the wider pasture where, indeed, most of the cadets had moved on to practice different riding speeds.

"You should go with them," he said. "Don't let me hold you back here, it'll hurt your score."

"I don't mind. Why do you think they only show us the basics of things?" she said. "It's because those of us who have a talent are supposed to teach the others."

Levi glanced at the ground, which he immediately recognized as a mistake; his stomach did another flip. "I think you might be wasting your time with me, though."

"Not even close," she said. "Smaller people make the fastest riders. Did you know that?"

He looked up at her, his face growing warm. "No."

"It's true," she said. "Now, fix your feet."

"What's wrong with my feet?"

"Rest the ball of your foot on the stirrup and put your heels down as far as you can," she said. He obeyed. "Now, see how I've got the reins?"

He nodded, and when he'd successfully mimicked her form, she said, "Okay. Now let's try walking a little."

By the time he'd learned to ride properly, he'd more than earned the right to wear the riding boots.

It was May when they had their first lessons with real soldiers as their teachers. The woman standing at the front of the classroom was of middling height, with straight dark hair and black eyes, surveying the cadets. The man next to her was small and slight, not so much taller than Levi, with mousy blond hair. The wings on her back marked her clearly as Scouting Legion, whereas he bore the emerald unicorn of the Military Police; a hush fell over the trainees as they filed in and took their seats.

"Good afternoon," the man said once the class began. "I'm First Lieutenant Lucas Trevelyne of Squad 96 of the Military Police. This is First Lieutenant Avalesca Corso. She leads Squad 42 of the Scouting Legion.

"We've been given the special task of teaching this Training Corps about anatomy, physiology, and combat medicine."

A murmur rippled through the classroom. Avalesca Corso looked less than pleased with it, but he got the idea that the main reason she was here was for the latter part of Trevelyne's description.

They began with anatomy. For several weeks they studied science of the human body, working mainly in theory, but occasionally there would be times when they dissected a pig or, on one memorable occasion, a human cadaver.

Sure enough, Lieutenant Corso took over the course once they got to combat medicine. They started with basics: how to make a splint and set a broken bone, how to straighten a dislocated joint, how to administer morphine. Eventually, they moved on to more complex things – finding and stopping bleeding, how to test someone for brain damage, and how to sew stitches, even when the surface was slick with blood.

These parts of the training, they knew, were meant to scope out their abilities just as much as it was to teach them the skills. Those who were especially good at medicine or science would be chosen to specialize in those skills during their last year of training, immersed in their field except for one week out of each month when they would come back and continue to train in the general corps again.

So no one was surprised when, three weeks after they'd wrapped up their lessons in medicine on a bright day in June, Hanji came sprinting into the mess hall and practically threw herself down into her seat next to Skena.

"You will never believe – I just – Eisen just had me in his office and that – that pretty woman from the Scouting Legion was there and – "

"Hanji, breathe," Skena said, looking up from a letter she was writing. She wrote often, usually to her mother or cousin; not, he had noticed, to her father, at least not often.

After a few deep breaths, Hanji said, "I've been chosen to study science. Lieutenant Corso says she's never seen a mind like mine. She says that if I stay in the top ten, I'll be able to have a commission and be a science officer in the Scouting Legion!"

"Well, yeah, of course," Levi said. "They do that for all the top t – " His voice cut off as Skena gave him a sharp kick under the table and an even sharper warning look. "I mean, that's brilliant, Hanj. You're such a freak, you'll be the best one there."

"Really?" Hanji asked, her face hopeful and her eyes sparkling with happy tears, as though she half-expected him to tear her down again. "You think so?"

He felt his heart melt and felt guilty for nearly condescending to her. Skena, seeing him change, relaxed and smiled at him too.

"Definitely," he said, feeling himself return their smiles. "You'll blow them out of the water, Hanj."

He would never forget how her grin lit up her entire face, how her shoulders rose and she swelled with pride, then laughed aloud, covering her mouth with her hand only when she saw how everyone around them was staring.

They watched her, unable to keep from smiling, as she ran into the throng of other recruits to give them the news as well.