For the past few days, Christa refused to have a full conversation with Ymir. Their talks consisted of 'Let's train' and 'Let's go home' and 'Goodnight' for when they went to sleep. This passive-aggressive tactic drove Ymir to the cliff of frustration and there were times when she prayed for the blonde to hit her or punch her instead of giving her the silent treatment. Though this was harsh punishment, she understood the reasoning behind it. Selflessly, she had to put her monster feet in Christa's tiny shoes and realise how hard it was to accept the enmity of a friend.
On the morning of a Thursday, they woke up to the sound of harsh wind hitting against glass. Outside, the maelstrom of a thousand gods shook the whole city awake. Christa sat up slowly, yawning loudly – though this sound was drowned out by the bullets of water shooting their window panes. Her hand reached out and tapped Ymir on the face. The brunette's nose crinkled and turned to her side, mumbling. The two had decided that it was best for both parties to sleep together in the same bed. Platonically. The word they convinced themselves with. Christa didn't want to say that being this close to Ymir brought her a content kind of happiness that one would associate with the whiff of a loved one. Ymir didn't want to say that the feeling of their shoulders touching or breaths mingling gave her a floating feeling that one would associate with seeing the face of God.
When Ymir finally dragged herself out of bed, she and Christa sat in the living room chewing on leftover pizza from last night. For awhile, it was silent. They listened to the endless patter of heavy rain, and watched the raindrops racing each other against the gloom of the weather. The pizza was stale, and tasted like cardboard. This bland taste was enhanced by the rift they had between each other.
Christa was the first to speak.
"I've been thinking about it for awhile, and I'm sorry."
"For what?" Ymir spat out an olive and put her plate down.
"I've just been biased; I let my feelings get the best of me."
"Christa, it's okay. I get it."
"Reiner's just been there for me for a long time, he's looked out for me...I can't wrap my head around it."
"We're running out of time. Who knows what the Trinity is planning."
"I know. And I've decided that we need to talk to him."
"Right to the point. Are you sure you can do this?"
Christa gulped, but gave Ymir a reassuring nod. "I'm sure he has some kind of explanation to go with it."
"You understand we might have to knock the information out of him."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." She took her plate to the sink and disappeared into the bedroom to get her suit.
###
It was wishful thinking, to imagine that Reiner would say that he had absolutely nothing to do with anything. That he was not, in any shape or form, involved with the Trinity, or with Hyrr. Christa had to blink away intruding tears when she was putting clothes on over her suit. Never draw attention, but always be prepared underneath. As she buttoned up her shirt, she glanced at Ymir, who was leaning against the crook of the doorway.
"You know, it was stupid of me to have let it slip through my mind." There was no bounce in her voice, no higher pitch. It was monotone.
"Let what slip?" Ymir raised an eyebrow.
"The name 'Bruder'." Christa slipped into a jacket and forced her feet into their shoes.
Ymir stayed silent.
"It means 'brother' in German." Christa turned for the door. "He's been calling himself my brother all these years, and I missed the signs."
###
The rain did not falter after they left the apartment, it did not die down when they drove into Trost. As they sat quietly in the Ferrari, the stupid, fucking rain would not stop shouting. Ymir created a dull rhythm upon the steering wheel as she glared out the window. It was hard to make anything out, her view a collage of melted colours which had been stirred by the drops themselves. Her anger started when they turned the first couple of streets. It grew when they neared the house. The blame was on her, and she accepted that. For the first time in her life, she wished she never turned to an existence of thievery and deceit. This web of lies had led Christa to her. It led Christa straight to the mouth of the devil. She deserved better.
The blonde clenched her jaw, unbuckled her belt, and tore herself out. Into the threshold of cold, shattering ice she went. After punching the wheel, Ymir followed suit.
They were slapped with the gasping wind. The collar on Ymir's coat flailed helplessly as she squinted through the rain, watching Christa's back. The smaller girl's jacket formed wavelengths and ripples that one would see in a rushing ocean.
Christa's lips were slippery and trembling as she forced her white knuckles to rap against the door.
"Reiner!" she shouted. "Open up!"
There were exactly thirty seconds of nothing but the roar of the pelting above them. Onwards after thirty, thundering footsteps flooded behind the door. A click, a latch. It opened to a puzzled, brute of a blond whose thin eyebrows could reach heaven if they wanted to.
"Christa?" he said, mouth gradually curving into a smile. "What brings you here? Quick, come inside."
Christa wiped her feet on his welcome mat, for all the good it did. The soles of her shoes were cleaned, but she expelled water from every pore. Ymir took off her coat and shook her hair around, her ponytail whipping a flurry of water. They left puddles of water as Reiner led them into the living room and offered them towels and blankets.
Ymir refused.
"Ymir...are you sure?" He asked. "You'll catch a cold."
"I'll live," she growled.
"And you, Christa?" He lifted a pink towel towards her.
She refused him too.
"We're not here to sit around the heater and catch up." With each passing moment, Christa felt herself becoming more and more detached –perhaps it was out of shock, out of pain. It was draining her. There were dozens of prayers in her mind, all of them asking for Reiner's innocence, but the signs could not be wrong. Her instinct could not be wrong. "We're here to know the truth."
Reiner dropped the towels on the couch, along with his smile. "What do you mean?"
"Drop the fucking act, okay?" Ymir turned skittish. Her heels rocked, hands closing and opening. "We know you're involved."
"Involved?" His voice rose. "With who?"
"Hyrr." Christa crossed her arms. She tried desperately not to shiver.
"Hyrr? The 'hero' on TV?"
Ymir scanned the room in frustrated vigilance - the cream walls were stained with age and musk, the corners rotting with dark spots and faded splotches of what must have been floral wallpaper. Regardless, she saw the house as a symbol of family, of comfort. Behind Reiner was the entrance to the kitchen – a dainty small space with carefully stacked plates upon cheap shelves and a stove which looked antique. The light overhead covered them all in a coat of gold, creating a stark contrast between the inviting warmth of the home and the unforgiving cold of the outside. She could only imagine how many times Christa had been over his house, the word 'brother' on her lips, the promise of a protective shield always watching her back. And she wondered how much it hurt to realize that this shield was actually a poisonous dagger.
When she didn't answer, Reiner lifted his hands towards her. "Christa, what are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about."
The air in Ymir's lungs dissipated, her breath caught in the barbs of her throat. Though she knew who Bruder was, she didn't know about the text. The risk was massive – if Reiner truly decided to admit it, he could turn the table on Ymir. He could tell Christa-
"The truth," said Christa. "I want the truth."
The thing was – if Reiner actually cared for her, he wouldn't spill anything. Not even anything about Hyrr. About Ymir.
"I would never hide anything from you, you know that." He shook his head. "I've been by your side for years. If I knew anything, I would have told you."
"I've calculated it in my head, Reiner." Her laugh was mirthless, filled with pain. "Five years. Five years ever since Hyrr came and took Bruder out. I never knew you beforehand. It was only a few weeks after the incident that you came to me and Sasha, asking for help, for shelter. You had run away from home with your friends, you were from another city."
Ymir's eyes twitched. This had been the first time Christa talked about Reiner's background. Perhaps she didn't bring it up because she thought it had nothing to do with it, perhaps because it was a topic he pretended to be ashamed of.
"But I know now. You lied to me. You were injured, and I believed you. I can't believe I was so blind." Tears met in the corners of her eye. "The whole city thought – they thought they were rid of the being that tore their loved ones out of their homes, the being that destroyed their houses."
"Christa-" He began, voice desperate. Actually desperate. Ymir wondered if they made a mistake, if he was not-
"You were simply laying low, staying hidden, waiting for the next moment-" She paced. "If only I had known."
Reiner lowered his head. Even his hair seemed like it was drained from its usual shining colour. Dark circles appeared under his eyes. A shadow passed upon his face. "Christa, you have to understand – there are things I do hide from you to keep you safe."
"To keep me safe!?" she exclaimed. "You know I've been looking for the one person that has destroyed our city's economy, robbed our people of their money – and you, you kept it from me. You've known her this whole time."
Christa's eyes burned with a chaotic tempest that rivalled the storm outside. "And you're the one who caused this city fear, you're the one who brought trauma to everyone in-"
Thunder rolled and lightning struck, the strip of white appearing for a mere second, then disappearing.
Reiner took Christa's arms, his broad palms encircling her wrists. His grip tightened with each word he spoke. "I never meant to hurt the people of this city. I never wanted that."
"Then why-" She began to resist under his touch.
"I was looking for her. For Hyrr. She stole something from me, something from my people. From where I come from."
Ymir retreated, fear causing her body to become rigid. The planes of her back hit the wall, eyes carefully watching Reiner. If he told her the truth – if he dared – she would have to escape. Christa would never-
"Forgive me," he said. "Please. Forgive me. I don't want to fight you, Christa."
She stared up into his eyes, searched for signs of lies. There were none. Christa felt her heart let go – felt the oxygen circulating around her body once more. "I-"
The sound came first.
Thin, crystalline, like chimes, but distorted.
Accompanying it, the flying of sharp knives through the air. These knives were in varying sizes of small and large, and were glass. The window behind them had been destroyed.
From the corner of Ymir's eye, she spotted a dark creature that had been thrown inside. Her heart skipped a beat, mind racing, and before she could be sure, she yelled, "Get down!"
The dark creature had been a smoke bomb – it immediately filled the air with garish, fuming spouts of grey air. On her hands and knees, Ymir heard small bouts of coughing. It was almost impossible to move around – she was virtually surrounded by a thick cloud. Her eyes stung from the ugly coal-coloured belches.
"Christa!" she sputtered. "Are you alright!?"
A few feet in front of her, she heard, "Yes! I'm over here!"
As Christa shuffled closer to Ymir, pulling an arm over her face, she said, "Can you hear them? Whispering?"
"What are you talking about?" Ymir choked out.
Christa closed her eyes. Her ultra-sensitive ears fought beyond the sound of the wind and the rain and filtered through the sound she wanted to hear.
Quickly, quickly. Did you tell-
Is Hyrr - -
Where is she?
Leave, we have to leave now. The smoke will wear in a second.
But Eis –
Shut up. You messed it up.
There was silence. Christa felt three bodies disappear from her radar.
The smoke began to subside, the faint particles of grey hovering in the air, starting to give way to the wind from the broken window. Christa sat up, brushing away the pieces of glass that stuck on her palms. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, chin resting upon the hard bones. Her throat refused oxygen to enter, refused the wastes to exit.
Ymir was standing in front of her, staring outside the window. Lightning spurned, her body awash with the power of the heavens in a split-second. She turned to Christa. "Did you hear anything?"
The blonde nodded silently.
"What was it?"
Her eyes were glazed, wet. They pleaded with Ymir. "Reiner, and two other voices. A woman, I think, and-"
Ymir kneeled in front of her. "Who? You knew them?"
Tears carried themselves out of her system. "Bertholdt Hoover."
The brunette poured her arms around Christa, holding her head against her chest. The memories of those Christa held dear had been tarnished by betrayal and secrecy, and Ymir feared her own deceit. The truth was going to spit itself out, whether she liked it or not.
In her mind she signed a pact.
She was going to keep Christa safe, even if it killed her.
