Chapter 2: Sina Brat

"Keith Shadis. I'll never be able to forget that bald-headed, yellow-eyed, loud-mouthed bastard. He was one of the few people I have ever met that I respected and despised. It came with the territory since he was our drill instructor. There were days I wanted to break his jaw so I wouldn't have to hear his damn voice yelling in my ear, but self-control was one of the many tests I had to pass. He might've been an asshole, but he was one of the key people in my life that shaped me into who I am today. I owe him that much."


"Straighten those spines, piss-ants!" the drill instructor shouted. "The 104th Cadet Corps Boot Camp starts now. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Commandant Keith Shadis and you will grow to hate me. Training is gonna be a white-knuckle run through Hell. If I've done my job, you'll be waking up in a cold sweat from memories of this place every single night for the rest of your miserable lives. Right now, you're nothing. Livestock! But over the next three soul-crushing years, you'll learn to take down your own goliath. Remember this moment when you come face to face with him, 'cause here's where you ask yourself: am I a fighter, or am I feed? Am I gonna be ground up to human, pulpy crisp between boulder-sized incisors, or am I gonna be the one to bite?"

Dillon had to hand it to him; Shadis knew how to simultaneously make them feel terrified of their future and pumped up for it. In his case, the blacksmith could only hope he was strong enough when the time came to kill the Titans. Otherwise... best not to think of the alternative.

"Hey, Mop Top!" Shadis exclaimed, looking directly at a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy that Dillon thought was a girl at first.

"Sir!" he replied, saluting.

"What do they call you, maggot?"

"Armin Arlert from Shiganshina, sir," he answered.

"Seriously?" Shadis asked, feigning wonder. "Why would your parents curse you with that ridiculous name?"

"It was my grandfather, sir."

The drill instructor leaned in, not granting the boy personal space. "Cadet Arlert, why is a runt like you here?"

Armin's voice started cracking, terrified, and even closed his eyes. "To help humanity defeat the Titans!"

"That is delightful to hear," Shadis replied, not at all delighted. "You're gonna be a great light snack for them." Grabbing Armin by the head, he forcefully turned him around. "Row 3, about face, runt."

He moved on to the next victim—uh, cadet, who had short blond hair and brown eyes. "What do you call yourself?"

"Sir, my name is Thomas Wagner. I'm from the Trost District."

"I can't hear you!" At the volume the man was speaking, it was unlikely the nearby cadets would hear ever again.

"I'm from Trost, sir!" he repeated, louder. "I want to—"

"Nobody here gives a damn. Next!" Shadis interrupted, quickly moving on to another cadet, this one being a black-haired, gray-eyed girl. "You!"

"Sir, Mina Carolina from Karanes," she quickly introduced.

"Is a pathetic worm like you the best Karanes has to offer!?" he roared.

Like Armin, she, too, closed her eyes in fear. "Sir, I'm afraid that's the case, sir."

"Tell your district they can burn in Hell for sending you here," the drill instructor ordered.

"Yes, sir," Mina replied.

"You."

Crap, he noticed me. Dillon realized as the yellow-eyed terror approached him.

"Who the hell are you?" Shadis demanded.

Saluting, he responded, "Dillon Amsdale from Yarckel, sir."

"Yarckel? Step forward, Amsdale!"

He followed orders without hesitation, though he had a sinking feeling regarding the man's intentions.

"Take a good look, maggots," Shadis said in a patronizing tone. "A Sina brat has decided to grace us with his presence today. You should all feel honored. Tell me, Sina Brat, how many times a day do you ask your servants to bend over and lick your shoes?"

"I never had servants, sir," Dillon assured, starting to really hate this guy.

He leaned into his face, spit flying out of his mouth as he spoke. "Are you suggesting that I am wrong, pretty boy?"

"Yes, sir!" It was automatic, a slip of the tongue at the absolute worst moment. No one envied being in his shoes. Well, he's gonna kill me now.

Shadis's glare made his soul want to flee his body. "Then bend over lick my shoes, Sina Brat!"

"Yes, sir!"

Dillon got down on his knees and lowered his face to his shoe, hoping that all he would taste was dirt and whatever the shoe was made of. Instead, Shadis kicked his foot right into his face, sending him backwards. He landed on his back with blood pouring from his now-broken and bent-upwards nose, crying out in pain.

"Keep your filthy tongue away from me," Shadis demanded. "On your feet!"

Despite seeing spots, Dillon did as he said, covering his bleeding nose with his hands in an attempt to stop said bleeding.

"Remove your hands, Sina Brat."

Reluctantly, Dillon uncovered his nose, presenting the first of what would be many injuries he would receive while he was here. With the gentleness of a hammer to the face, Shadis gripped his nose and set it back straight. Dillon couldn't help but yell in response again, but at least that solved one problem with his nose. Now he just had to get it looked at by an actual doctor.

"Get back in line. Row 4, about face!"

Or he could continue bleeding and let the wound simmer. That worked too. At least he could still breathe, though the spots continued to cloud his vision.

Once Row 4 turned around, Shadis came face to face with a brown-haired male with equally brown eyes. "What do we have here?"

"Jean Kirstein, sir, from the Trost District," he said, saluting.

"And why are you here, Cadet?"

Relaxing a bit, he answered, "To join the Military Police, sir, the best of the best."

Dillon visibly winced at that remark. If "the best of the best" was anything like the officers he had encountered in the past, this Jean guy would end up becoming his mother's target in a few years.

Shadis took this in stride. "That's nice. You wanna live in the Interior, do you?"

"Yes." Immediately, Jean was head-butted by him, crumbling to the ground and holding his head.

"No one told you to sit, recruit!" Shadis shouted. "If you can't handle this, Kirstein, then forget about joining the Military Police!"

At least he didn't break your nose, Dillon thought to himself as Shadis moved on.

"What the hell is wrong with your face, you smiling idiot?" Shadis questioned a black-haired male with freckles.

"Marco Bodt, at your service, sir, from Jinae, south side of Wall Rose," he replied in one breath. "I am to join the Military Police and give life and limb in service to the king."

Shadis knew just how to respond to that statement, lowering the volume of his voice into a creepy whisper. "Well then, that makes you an idealistic fool… and a rube. You want the truth?" Marco gulped uncomfortably when Shadis leaned in with a deadly stare. "The only use the king has for your life and limbs are as Titan fodder."

Couldn't have said it better myself, Dillon thought grimly.

With the cadet frozen in a state of shock, the drill instructor moved on to a bald-headed male that was one of the shortest people in the Corps. "Hey, Cue Ball, you're up next."

"Uh, me?" Quickly composing himself, he saluted… on the wrong side of his chest. "Sir, Connie Springer from Ragako Village, sir."

Enraged, Shadis grabbed the boy by the head and lifted him off the ground, pressing his fingers into his skull. "You have it backwards, Connie Springer. That was the first thing you were taught. This salute represents the resolve in your heart to fight those bent on the systematic destruction of our people. Is your heart on your right side!?"

CRUNCH!

It was like the entire world just froze for two seconds. Standing nearby, as if nothing important was happening, was a girl with reddish brown hair eating a potato… in the middle of formation.

Completely flabbergasted, the drill instructor dropped Connie, who was on the verge of passing out. "Hey, you there. What do you think you're doing?"

The girl did not give any indication that she heard him and took another bite out of the potato.

Shadis took it well. "YOU ARE OFFICIALLY ON MY SHIT LIST! JUST WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"

Mortified, the girl quickly swallowed her bite and saluted, potato still in hand. "Sasha Braus from Dauper Village at your service! Reporting for duty, sir!"

"Sasha Braus, huh?" he repeated, glaring down at her. "What is that you're clutching in your right hand?"

"A steamed potato," she answered. "It sat there in the mess hall begging to be eaten, sir."

For the first time today, the drill instructor seemed like he was trying to restrain himself. "The theft I understand, but here? Why eat it here of all places?"

Sasha wasn't taking the hint. "It looked quite delicious, and it was getting cold, so I gave it shelter in my stomach, sir."

His voice dropped so low that the other recruits had to strain their ears to hear him. "Why? I can't comprehend. Why would you eat that potato?"

Now, she was confused. "Are you… asking me why people eat potatoes. I'm surprised you don't know, sir."

The temperature seemed to drop 50 degrees as the cadets stared at her in utter horror. Was she trying to get herself murdered on the first day? Surprisingly, Shadis didn't immediately rip her to shreds and just stood there, silent. Some of them wondered if he was contemplating how he was going to kill her and get away with it. Others thought the girl managed to break his mind with her words.

Sasha was getting uncomfortable by the sudden silence and tried to rectify things. She broke the potato in half, though one was bigger than the other, and held out the smaller half to him. "Here, sir. Have half."

Slowly, Shadis took the piece as if it was the nicest thing someone had ever done for him. "Have half? Really?"

The girl smiled as if she did a great deed, and that was the last straw.

Roughly, Shadis grabbed her by collar, making her drop the rest of the potato in surprise. After tossing his half of it aside, he spoke in the deadliest whisper he could manage. "Listen to me very carefully, you little bitch. The minute I drop you, you will start running around the base and you will not stop until you pass out." His voice started to escalate quickly. "For the next five days, your meal privileges will only consist of one meal, and if you ever eat in formation again…" He picked up the big half of the potato and crushed it right in front of her eyes. "That will be your skull! Do I make myself clear, Maggot!?"

"Y-Yes, sir," Sasha stuttered, properly terrified.

"Get moving!" he ordered, dropping her.

Once she was running as if Titans were coming after her, Shadis had one more loose end to tie up. "Sina Brat!"

"Yes, sir!" Dillon replied, flinching.

"Fall out to the infirmary," he commanded.

"Thank you, sir." Oh, so he does care about my well-being.

"The rest of you, on the ground! Push-ups!"


Dillon could not believe how lucky he was. The fracture was in just the right spot so that it wouldn't cause him to stop breathing. For a cadet to die on the first day would be embarrassing, to say the least. It took a while for the bleeding to stop and the swelling to go down a bit, but the doctor was finally able to patch up Dillon's nose. Unfortunately, it was going to leave him with a feeling of lightheadedness and a stopped-up nose for a while.

"So, how do you feel, Cadet?" the doctor questioned once the bandages were applied.

"Like I got hit in the face with a stone," Dillon answered in a very nasally voice.

He shook his head, bemused. "Well, you're not the first person Shadis has sent to the infirmary, and you won't be the last."

"If his prejudice is anything to go by, I might win the record for how many times he sends me here," Dillon mumbled resentfully.

The doctor just stared at him. "You really think he did it because he's out for your blood?"

"I followed his orders, and he kicked me in the face."

"I think you're taking this a little too personally."

Dillon raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Shadis almost sent me away in a casket and you think I have the problem?"

"He knew what he was doing," the doctor told him. "The fracture was in just the right spot. You weren't in any danger of dying, though perhaps I could've worded my diagnosis differently." He sighed. "Cadet, I'm going to level with you: we don't get many people from Wall Sina here. You're one of the rare ones."

"I know. People my age are either working, rich brats, or whatever the hell people my age do," Dillon said. "Hell if I know, and I really don't care."

"Well, let me put things in perspective. Half of these cadets are from Wall Rose, and the other half came from Wall Maria. What do you think their initial reaction will be to a guy from the Interior?"

Dillon paused as he thought it over. He never gave any consideration how his status would make him stand out in the eyes of his comrades. "So, Shadis had me go through all that for my benefit?"

The doctor shrugged slightly. "Possibly. If you acted like a spoiled kid, you'd probably be in here with a cracked skull."

Dillon grimaced at the thought. "Terrific."

"Just follow orders and don't act like an actual Sina Brat and you'll be fine. The ones who can't take a hint get washed out fast, so don't give Shadis more reason to beat you until his hand is soaked with your blood."

Wide, brown eyes met the doctor's. "What the hell kind of doctor are you?"

"The kind who's keeping you from doing anything draining for a while like say… doing drills?" He threw him a smirk.

"Well, in that case, keep talking."

He chuckled. "Sorry, Cadet, but I've kept you long enough. The dizziness and the lightheadedness should have receded by now. Try not to strain yourself too badly and don't purposefully strain yourself to get out of drills. If you do, I've got some body bags that need filling."

Suddenly, Dillon valued his health more than anything in the world.


True to his word, Shadis put the recruits through rigorous training. 50 push-ups here, 50 crunches there, and jumping jacks that never seem to end. Anytime someone collapsed or was too slow, the gentle tones of the drill instructor were enough to get them back to exercising. Naturally, one of those exercises included running laps around the base ten times. Poor Sasha had to dodge the recruits when they caught up with her every single time. Halfway through, Dillon returned and ran the rest of the laps and exercises with them. He stumbled a bit due to his injuries, but he continued to press on. To his surprise, he wasn't called out on it. A few hours later, the sun was finally setting. The cadets, exhausted and beat, were dismissed at last. Shadis, briefly, summoned Dillon to his office for the medical report. Stiff as a board, he relayed the information to the commandant and was told to pace himself before getting dismissed. Closest to an apology he was going to get.

Once he was free, the first stop Dillon wanted to make was to the mess hall. He was starving beyond belief. Hopefully, the other cadets didn't eat all the food before he got there. Once he located the building, he spotted the familiar faces of Connie, Marco, Mina, and Armin standing outside, relaxing from today's activities. The one person he didn't recognize was a green-eyed boy, who seemed to find the sunset very captivating.

"Well, looks who's here," Connie greeted with a grin. "The Sina Brat himself."

Dillon could tell the boy meant it in jest… he hoped, and said, "Just call me Dillon."

Connie couldn't help but snicker at how bad Dillon's voice sounded.

"I didn't expect for you to get hurt like that today," Mina mentioned, glowering at Connie for his insensitivity.

Dillon shrugged. "Well, he wanted to break me down and started with my nose. It was just bad luck for him I had to get it patched up before it got worse." He decided to introduce himself to the one person he didn't know, holding out his hand. "Dillon Amsdale. You?"

"Eren Yeager," he answered cautiously, shaking his hand.

"So, what's it like living in the Interior?" Armin asked.

"Lots of noise," he replied. "I worked as a blacksmith in Yarckel with my dad. Hammering here, fires there, had to get used to the environment quickly. If I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing, I got hurt."

"Sounds dangerous," Marco observed.

Dillon nodded. "It always is even when you know what you're doing." He spotted Sasha continuing to run and changed the subject. "So, Potato Girl's still running?"

"I thought Shadis was going to kill her," Connie commented.

"I know," Eren added. "One hell of a first day." He chuckled. "It's funny. Being told to run until she passed out didn't seem to bother her nearly as much as being told her meals were being dropped to one per day for the next five."

Dillon instinctively snorted and his nose flared up like someone lit a fire within. "Shit!" he exclaimed, clutching it.

"Dillon, what's wrong?" Mina moved next to him in case he needed help.

"Stupid nose. I'm fine," Dillon groaned, frustrated. He could only hope Shadis would have a terrible accident before the three years were up.

Mina and the other cadets weren't convinced, but they didn't press the issue.

The only one who didn't seem concerned was Eren, who simply rolled his eyes at his antics. However, he spotted something in the distance. "Hey, what's that?"

The group looked where he was pointing at and saw a horse dragging a cart of trainees away from the compound.

"They're dropouts," Mina explained sadly. "They prefer to work in the fields."

Marco was confused. "But… it's only the first day."

Dillon could understand why they left. "Not everyone can be a soldier. Shadis put us through one hell of a workout today."

Eren stared at the dropouts with disgust. "I can't believe anyone would rather pull plants than fight."

The blacksmith turned to him with annoyance. "Those plant pullers help feed people, Eren. They may not be in the front lines, but they are doing a good service to humanity."

The green-eyed boy glared back at him. "And I bet you've enjoyed a good meal in the Interior because of them, haven't you, Dillon?"

Like the doctor predicted, this was happening. Most of these trainees were orphans due to the Titans or some other tragedy. They'd experienced homelessness, starvation, and wondering how they were going to make it to the next day. He, on the other hand, had a secure roof over his head, a job that paid well, delicious meals, and a family that loved him. He could sympathize with these kids, but unless he experienced half of what they did, he could never fully understand it. Whether he liked it or not, Dillon was going to earn the ire of some of these cadets just for being here.

That being said, Eren's statement was still stupid beyond belief. Fortunately, someone else called him out on it before he did.

"His point still stands, Eren," Mina pointed out. "Maybe they aren't killing Titans, but they are still going to be providing a valuable service."

Eren didn't look convinced, but to his credit, he chose not to say anything in response.

Marco decided to intervene before things escalated. "I know about some of us, but you never mentioned where you were from, Eren."

"The same as Armin," he answered, putting on hand on the blond boy's shoulder. "From Shiganshina."

Dillon's eyes widened in horror. "Shiganshina? That means-."

"You were there that day," Connie finished, less shocked and more…excited.

"Quiet!" Marco warned, realizing what he was about to say.

Connie didn't heed his advice. "The Colossal One. Did you see him?"

Eren didn't look insulted by his lack of tact, but his voice grew darker as memories surfaced from that day. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

Before anyone could stop him, Connie ran inside the mess hall, dragging Eren along for the ride, and announced, "Hey, guys! This is Eren. He was in Shiganshina that day. He saw the Colossal Titan!"

Like vultures swooping in on a carcass, a crowd of cadets gathered around Eren, asking him over and over again if what Connie said was true, if he really was there when Wall Maria fell. At least they gave Dillon space so he could get his food. Some sort of messy soup and bread. Even though his nose was still healing, he could get a whiff of the meal that sat before him. Bread was definitely overcooked, and the soup was just mush with liquid flavor. Reminded him of the first time he tried cooking.

Once he filled up his tray, Dillon scouted around for a place to sit. He noticed an empty spot next to that Jean guy from earlier (the bruise on his forehead was a dead giveaway), and asked, "Mind if I sit here?"

"Go ahead," he answered, making a little room for him.

"Jean, right?"

He confirmed it with a nod and shook his hand. "And you're Dillon. Good to meet you. How's your nose?"

Dillon brushed his fingers against it, sensitive to the touch. "Still swollen and a little fractured, but it'll heal. Shadis really had it out for me today."

"I guess I should be thankful I only got bruised," Jean commented, indicating his own present from their drill instructor.

Dillon raised his mug of water. "Here's to our first of many battle wounds."

Chuckling, Jean toasted him, downing whatever was left in the mug. "So, you said you're from Yarckel, huh?"

"Uh-huh," he confirmed, knowing what was on his mind. "Don't bother asking me if I have connections to the Military Police, Jean. My family and the Police are not on good terms."

That piqued his interest. "What happened?"

"My mother is the reason several corrupt officers are rotting in jail," he explained, eating some of the soup he got. His face contorted with disgust. "Ugh! What the hell is crap?"

"Apparently, it's supposed to be food," Jean snarked, shuddering from the taste. "Blech! My mother can cook better than this."

Dillon would've attempted to use the slop as an allegory for what the MPs were like, but a certain someone's voice caught his attention.

"Yeah, okay? I saw the big guy," Eren confirmed, sounding exasperated.

"Whoa, seriously?" Thomas asked as if he hadn't said it the first two times.

One guy, Samuel, wanted details. "Okay, exactly how tall was he?"

"He stuck his head over the outer wall," he explained.

The comments started flying.

"Whoa, wait! I heard he stepped over the wall completely."

"So did I."

"That was the rumor in my village too."

If that happened, we'd be dead, Dillon thought to himself.

"He was big, but not that big," Eren corrected.

"So what did it look like?" Mina dared to ask.

"It had a mouth like a corpse," he described. "And no skin. Just muscles."

"And the Armored Titan?" another cadet questioned. "The one that broke through Wall Maria?"

Eren didn't seem impressed. "Is that what they're calling it? In all the panic, it was just another Titan to me."

Samuel was flabbergasted like everyone else. "No way. So, what were they like?"

Eren stopped eating, gasping as the memories of that horrible day hit him. Dropping, his spoon, he put his hand over his mouth, sounding like he was about to vomit. Dillon looked around for a bucket, or something like that in case the poor kid needed to let it out.

Marco finally had the decency to put an end to it. "Come on. That's enough questions, all right? I'm sure he'd rather not relive everything he went through."

A voice of reason at last, Dillon thought, relieved.

"We're sorry," Connie apologized, feeling ashamed for putting Eren through all that just to satisfy his own curiosity. "We didn't mean to—"

"It's not like that," Eren assured, composing himself and taking a bite of bread. "Those stupid Titans. They're really not that big a deal."

Congratulations, Eren, Dillon thought, clenching his fists. It took all of his self-control not to tear him a new one. Not only did you just spit in the face of everyone who's been killed by those monsters, but you also just made number 2 on the "people I really don't like" list.

Eren wasn't done. "If we focus on mastering the Omni Dimensional Maneuver Gear they give us, then it's Titan payback time. I've waited years to be trained as a soldier. All of a sudden, the reality's sinking in. I'm joining the Scout Regiment, then I'll send the Titans back to Hell. I'm gonna butcher them all."

Eren's demeanor had completely changed from a monotone voice to a bit unhinged. Dillon couldn't blame him, given all the hell he went through that day, but it was a little unnerving.

"Hey, are you crazy or something?"

The attention was on Jean now, who was smirking at Eren's tirade. "Not that it's my business but signing up for Reconnaissance is like a death sentence."

Eren eyed him carefully. "I guess we'll see. Or, at least, I will. You seem content hiding in the Interior with the MPs."

Dillon couldn't help but respond to that. "And you seem content to insult anybody who chooses to be an MP."

The green-eyed boy scoffed at him. "Being part of the Military Police is a nice way of saying, 'you get a chance to hide and be safe while everyone else gets to die.'"

"Not everyone has the guts to throw their lives into certain-death territory," he reminded Eren, getting really sick of his attitude. "You have to deal with the fact that some people just want to survive."

"The only way we survive is if we beat the Titans!" Eren exclaimed angrily. "Why can't you people see it?" He glared at him. "Then again, why should I expect someone from the Interior to understand what we've been through?"

Dillon sighed, standing up. Quickly, Eren got to his feet, prepared to fight if he needed to despite Dillon having a couple of inches above him. A hush fell over the mess hall, the cadets watching the scene unfold. Out of the corner of his eye, the blacksmith noticed a black-haired, Asian girl giving him a look that said, "touch him and I will kill you." Dillon, however, refused to stoop that low and asked a simple question. "Eren, why do you think I'm here?"

That question caught him off-guard. "Uh…"

"Let me elaborate. I had a home in the Yarckel District. I had a roof over head, a loving family, warm meals, you name it, I probably had it. So why would I leave a life of luxury and choose to suffer for the next three years?"

Before Eren could attempt to answer, the bell rang, signaling the time for them all to disperse to their barracks.

"You've got three years to come up with an answer," Dillon said, "but I think you're smart enough to figure it out sooner."

Finishing up his food, the blacksmith made his way to the barracks. He was more tired than he thought and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. It was going to be a long three years.


Remastered Edits: Shadis explaining Dillon his motivations was another blunder on my part. I don't think drill instructors, much less Shadis, would take time out of their day to do that. Having a doctor with a slightly sick sense of humor seemed a bit more logical and added some humor to the mix.

So, yeah. That's it. Enjoy refreshing your memory on this moment.

5/18/20: Minor adjustments to some dialogue so it wouldn't seem redundant or out of place. Added some touches concerning Dillon's injury and the food as well.