Chapter 3: The Girl with Cold Eyes
"Joining the Cadet Corps meant radically altering your life permanently. Whether you ended up in the Interior as an MP, roaming Titan-invested lands with the Scouts, or learning the delicate art of gardening in the fields, nothing would ever be the same again. Most veterans would tell you it was the first day in which their lives were changed forever. Not me. It was the day after..."
(The next day)
When Dillon awoke the next morning, he was faced with two things he didn't see coming. The first were the unpleasant existence of group showers. Privacy was going to be a thing of the past every time he stepped in there naked with everyone else. To say that he was a little uncomfortable with the situation would be like saying the Titans were a bit annoying. Unfortunately, he would have to suck it up and deal with it lest he incur the wrath of Shadis. Silver lining? These weren't coed showers.
The other thing that took him off guard was the immediate ODM gear test after breakfast. His commanding officer left that part out when they spoke the day before. Apparently, part 1 to getting into the Training Academy was dealing with Shadis for the first day. Part 2 was seeing if the cadets could handle using stationary gear at a moment's notice. This was crucial, as Shadis eloquently put it.
"It's aptitude test time, so listen up! There is no place for you here if you cannot perform. Fail, and you'll be shipped to the fields."
Judging by half of the cadets' faces, it was clear they were extremely nervous, and they weren't the only ones. Dillon may have helped craft some of the swords they use for the ODM gear, but he never used the gear in his life. There was no reason to… until now.
You know, in retrospect, maybe I should've trained myself to use equipment to fight Titans before entering a military academy training people to fight Titans.
Since there were only four harnesses to practice on, everyone divided themselves into five random groups. Dillon decided to wait it out and watch others do it to get an idea of how to do it himself. Hopefully, Shadis would not force him up there before he was ready, especially after the broken nose incident. At least Dillon was able to be bandage-free today. Until then, he wouldn't be idle. Now was the time to learn about his comrades.
He realized he was standing next to the two tallest people in the Cadet Corps. One of them was short-haired blonde with gold eyes, and the other guy had slightly longer black hair and brown eyes. The second had a couple of inches on the first guy. Time to start earning some respect.
"Um, hi," Dillon greeted a little nervously. "I'm Dillon Amsdale. I don't think we've met."
Blondie looked at him and held out his hand. "Reiner Braun. This is Bertholdt Hoover."
He shook both of their hands, noticing how strong their grips were if his wincing was any indication. "Nice to meet you."
Reiner couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "I get that reaction a lot. Don't feel too bad."
"Okay..."
And just like that, the three fell into an awkward silence.
Come on, you idiot. Think of something! Dillon silently perused through thousands of things to talk about. Uh... "Man, you must have been lifting houses when you an infant." Even for me, that's stupid. The guy probably heard that joke all his life. "Isn't Shadis a jackass?" The guy's right there! Do you want to get shot!? "That ODM gear is something, isn't it?" he finally settled on.
"Oh, yeah," Reiner agreed with a nod.
Yet again, the air between them was filled with the sound of silence. Clearly, that had been the wrong choice of conversation.
"So... you're the guy from Sina."
Dillon was nearly taken aback by Bertholdt's voice. For a guy taller than everyone in the Cadet Corps, he spoke so timidly. Clearing his throat, he responded, "Yeah. Born in raised in Yarckel."
"That's cool, I guess."
"Yeah..." Dillon couldn't believe this was happening. Yesterday, he was connecting with Jean and verbally sparring with Eren. Why was he so bad at small talk? "You know, I actually helped my dad make weapons."
Reiner raised in eyebrow in surprise before smirking. "You're a blacksmith, huh? Not bad, kid. That explains why you had a firmer grip than most people I've shaken hands with."
"Good to know," he replied. "So, where are you guys from?"
"Sina Brat!"
Before Dillon could even utter a breath, a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and whirled him around.
"Does this look like a recreational area to you? Is this test boring you!?" Shadis yelled, spit flying at the blacksmith's face.
"No, sir!" he answered, his voice jumping an octave.
"Get up on that rig, maggot!"
Screw you, Shadis. "Yes, sir!"
With a salute, Dillon sped-walked to the harness as another instructor strapped him in. The belts were as tight as they could be around his waist and legs to ensure security. That was a sensation he'd have to get used to. As least he didn't have to go soaring through trees just yet.
"Lift," Shadis ordered.
As the harness began to rise, Dillon took several deep breaths to remain calm. Panicking would earn him a meeting with the ground and a sentence to the fields. That being said, how the hell was he supposed to work this thing?
I had to have read about ODM gear at one point. He thought to himself as he felt himself slowly being raised. Please tell me I did!
His eyes glowed slightly before his feet left the ground.
He was standing in a corridor surrounded by sections of boxes. Each section had signs helpfully labeling what he was looking for. The sections with the most boxes covered things like "Family" and "Training with Dad," but one that he could hear was getting bigger was the "Military" section. Quickly, he ran over to the area, checking every single label for the one called "Glossed Over." It wouldn't have all the information, but it should have words that popped out to him that he saw in a book somewhere.
After a few minutes, he found it, ripping the box open. Best thing about the mind was that it could clean up his messes. Inside were very few folders that were blank, so he checked them all. On the second one, he found what he was looking for: one word. Balance! It didn't say how to achieve it. Just…balance!
His relieved grin faded when he felt the world slowly start tilting. He was falling in the real world.
"Oh, crap," he swore, quickly getting out of this place.
When he came to, Dillon's eyes widened as he realized in one second, he would hit the ground. With a grunt, he righted himself back up. It took a little wobbling, but he managed to stay up the air as calm as he could be. Slowly, he moved his arms, transferring weight to other parts of his body to acclimate to the changes. If he was going to be swinging swords, now was a good time to experiment.
"Congratulations, Amsdale," Shadis said. "It seems you are capable."
"Thank you, sir," Dillon replied, relieved that he passed.
After about ten more seconds of hanging around, the harness lowered back to the ground. Once the belts were undone, Dillon shook off the soreness he felt, stumbling a bit. It was constricting, but necessary.
As Bertholdt went up next and Shadis went off to yell at someone else, Reiner clasped his shoulder, making the teen flinch. "Nice recovery, Dillon. Thought you were gonna crash for a second."
"Same here," he agreed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Good to know that this 'Sina Brat' is capable of being a soldier."
"I don't care where you're from, and no one else should, either," he said seriously. "Status means nothing in this place."
Dillon shook his hand gratefully. "Appreciate it, Reiner. I look forward to getting to know you."
"Likewise," Reiner responded.
Now please stop trying to break every bone in my hand.
Curiously, they watched to see how the others were doing. Jean was a little wobbly, like he was earlier, but he managed to stay up. Sasha looked like she pulled a muscle, and yet she still remained upright. And then there was Mikasa, the black-haired Asian girl that looked like she was planning to kill Dillon last night. It wasn't the fact that she was doing the test perfectly, no wobbling or anything that could resemble a mistake, but her face was completely emotionless. Hell, she looked bored. If he didn't see her get angry at him last night, Dillon would think she was incapable of feeling anything.
"Got your eyes on a girl already?" Reiner teased, noticing how long he was staring at her.
"Not for the reasons you'd think," Dillon answered.
There was a yelp, catching his attention to the last harness. Poor Eren was hanging upside down with his eyes widened in horror. To make matters worse, he was getting laughed at by his peers. What were they, in grade school or something?
Shadis, as usual, wasn't helping matters. "What is your major malfunction, Yeager? Straighten yourself up!"
Dillon sighed at the spectacle. As much as he disliked Eren, he didn't want to see him suffer, so he turned around.
(Later that day)
Combat training. Finally!
This was something Dillon had been looking forward to since day one… which was yesterday. It would give him a chance to challenge cadets and be challenged. Rule number 1 to life: no one stops learning until they are dead. Shadis was briefly going over the rules to the sparring, but the only parts Dillon listened to was "no permanent damage" and "two people: one armed, and one not."
Once the drill instructor finished his speech, the recruits quickly split off into pairs. Unfortunately, it seemed everyone found a partner save for himself. He wandered around the area, looking for someone that was either going to finish soon, or that someone else was having as much luck finding a partner as he did. Knowing his luck, Shadis would probably end up his sparring partner.
Oh, he could see it now...
"...and THIS is how you break a man's thumb!" With a grip made of iron, the devil of the Cadet Corps yanked Dillon's thumb clean off his hand and held it out for the cadets to see. The appendage dripped blood onto the dirt as he spoke. "Life rarely rewards the soldiers, but when it does, never take these moments for granted."
A loud thump in the back indicated the fainting of a fellow cadet. Probably that cute, blonde girl.
"You're insane!" Dillon cried out, clutching his mangled hand.
In response, Shadis whipped out a curved knife that gleamed in the sun. "Now, watch carefully. You'll be tested on this next part."
Dillon rubbed his arm slightly to rid himself of the goosebumps that covered his skin. Part of him doubted Shadis would ever do such a thing to his cadets... but it was best not to take that chance.
Thankfully, the answer came in the form of a short, blonde-haired girl that wasn't the cute, blonde girl he spotted earlier. She, too, was wandering around the area, seemingly disinterested in the exercise. Dillon figured she was only like that because she couldn't find a sparring partner either. Time to fix that before Shadis breaks something else in my body.
"Excuse me," he greeted.
The moment the girl turned to face him, he noticed a very striking feature about her: her eyes. They were a combination of silver and blue, for one thing, but he also noticed how cold they looked. When he looked at someone's eyes, he always saw some form of emotion, like happiness, anger, or sadness, to name a few. Hers, on the other hand, were indifferent, and for some reason, that made him a little anxious.
"What do you want?" she questioned as if she had something better to do.
Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine? "I don't have a sparring partner. Mind being one for a bit?"
"If I must," she answered in a monotone, leading him towards an empty spot in the training field.
Cold eyes, cold tone, and cold personality. Good to know she's consistent. "I'm Dillon Amsdale, by the way."
"I know who you are," she said, not caring. "Do you want the knife or not?"
"I'll take it," he replied, a little put off by her demeanor. "Got a name?"
Once they reached a spot that wasn't taken, she turned to face him with an annoyed look. "Yes."
There was an awkward pause between them. "Are you going to tell me?"
"No."
Dillon smirked, getting an idea. "Well, in that case, I'm gonna call you Cold Eyes…or would you prefer Short Stack?"
It was here he figured out why her eyes made him nervous. It was so easy for them to shift from cold indifference to deadly, almost as if he was going be incinerated by them. The glare she gave him was the second-scariest glare he had ever seen. Shadis was number 1, naturally. What really added to the creepiness factor was how she was the same age as Dillon and she was able to pull that stare off. This easily told him pissing her off was not going to help him in this fight.
Hiding his anxiousness, Dillon held the wooden knife in a left-handed reverse grip while Cold Eyes got into a fighting stance, both fists raised. She had combat training, that he could see, but so did he.
Dillon made his first move, slashing at Cold Eyes twice. She quickly backed away until he attempted a third slash. She pulled him close and slammed her knee directly into his gut. His eyes bulged out in shock as pain shot through his body with the wind knocking out of him as a result. It was like being punched in the stomach by a concrete brick! Once the knee was removed, Dillon fell to his hands and knees, wheezing harshly. This was not what he expected from his first training partner. He looked up at her, finding not a twinge of sympathy or regret in her eyes. Just sheer, cold determination.
Trying to push past the severe pain, he staggered to his feet and returned to his fighting stance. Without a word, she did the same. Dillon decided on a different tactic as he rushed her. The speed should have thrown her off given what just happened, but found himself surprised once more as she effortlessly sidestepped his attack, almost as if it was predictable. He had no time to react as Cold Eyes spun around, lifting her leg so high that it caught the side of his head like a sledgehammer. Down he went, his body rolling hitting across the hard ground until he was on his back. Two hits. That was all it took for him to see stars.
This was nothing like the training he had with his father. Whereas Matthew was careful about truly hurting his son, Cold Eyes had no such reservations even though this was only training. She was fighting to hurt him, to disable him, to… even kill him. With her head blocking the sun, Dillon found himself staring at her once more to find that same expression on her face and this time, a cold shiver ran down his spine. Unfeeling, unremorseful, and more than willing to destroy him by any means necessary. She was not a sparring partner; she was his enemy.
A second later, she was moving towards him, his eyes widening when he saw her objective: the knife. It had fallen out of his hand. If she got it, it would be all over for him. With a grunt, Dillon twisted his ribs to the right and lifted his leg. He relished the brief look of surprise on Cold Eyes' face as it bashed into her side, knocking her to the ground as a result. With no time to lose, he scrambled towards the knife and grabbed it, standing up about the same time as she did. He nearly lost his balance as he felt the world spin, but he regained it just as the terrifying girl charged him to take advantage of his injuries.
Dillon sidestepped her attempt to grab him and tried slashing her neck only to miss by a couple inches. He wondered what the hell kind of training she had to be able to do that so effortlessly. The sidestep became a roundhouse and Dillon couldn't stop it. He didn't have time to think about getting out of the way. He just raised an arm and braced, his momentum carrying him into the blow. He took it without it building to full power and was close enough to feel his knuckles meet the skin and bone of the girl's cheek. She staggered back, giving him the opportunity he needed to finish her off. His moment of optimism was as short as her height when, in a swift move, his legs were kicked out from under him and he hit the ground back first. The knife was in her hands quickly which led to her stabbing his chest.
"You're dead," Cold Eyes stated, looking down on him with that same, damn look on her face.
A groan escaped his lips as he let out a couple of harsh coughs. He gazed at the girl that decimated him and said, "You're one hell of a fighter."
"And you fall too easy," she sneered.
That put him on the defensive. "Hey, I hit you twice. That has to count for something."
"Right, because when you're dead, I'll be thinking, 'Hey, that moron hit me twice.'"
Dillon opened his mouth to respond, and then promptly closed it. Not only did she beat the tar out of him, she just had to be right. Of course. "In that case, as my dying wish, can you tell me your name?"
She rolled her eyes at his pitiful attempt at humor, but she decided to give him at least that. "Annie Leonhart."
"Nice to meet you, Annie," he said as he finally started to get off the ground.
"You had some training, didn't you?" Annie noted without making a single move to help him up.
"Yeah, my dad taught me." He checked his head for blood only to find some bruises that hurt like hell.
"So, he taught you how to spar and not to fight."
Dillon gave her an annoyed look. "Are you saying all this all because I called you short?"
"I'm saying all this because it's the truth, not for something so petty," she answered, getting back into her fighting stance. "If you want to fight, prove it."
Gulping, he took a couple steps back. "Uh, I think you made your point."
His words fell on deaf ears as Annie went for him again.
Panicking, his eyes flashed as he struck her mind. Her concentration was thrown off as she stumbled, allowing Dillon dodge in time. He followed up by slamming his elbow into the back of Annie's head as she passed by with enough force to send her into the ground. She spat out dirt that got into mouth as she stood up, holding the back of her head. The moment her eyes landed on him, he could see she was pissed and pain awaited him. The hell is she mad at me for? She attacked me. He barely moved away from her slash before another leg sweep brought him down. That was really getting annoying.
"Dead," she said after another stab to the chest.
A pained grunt left his lips as he made no effort to stand.
"Get up," Annie demanded.
"So you can use me as your punching bag?" Dillon questioned. "Sorry. Not interested."
He regretted saying that as her foot slammed onto his chest, pressing down on his bruised ribs. That anger still remained. "You really are pathetic, Amsdale. Giving up the moment you start feeling pain? If you want to be coddled so badly, go back to the Interior."
"Are you... out of your mind?" he managed out. "What the hell did I do to you?"
It was so quick, most people wouldn't have spotted it, but he did. Her expression morphed to something like... regret. In the blink of an eye, it vanished while she removed her foot from his chest. "You should go to the infirmary," she advised before walking away from him.
Dillon had absolutely no idea what just happened. Just when he thought he had her pegged as the most brutal human being he ever encountered, that happened. Was she having a bad day or something and needed a way to vent? He doubted he could've caused that much anger with his humor. So many questions, but the most relevant one was whether he could make it to the infirmary before he passed out.
That night, after grabbing a bite to eat from the mess hall and avoiding a sentence to a body bag (the doctor from before was thankfully sick,) Dillon was on his bed in the barracks, staring at the ceiling. The injuries, though patched up, were keeping him awake, making him realize the severity of the situation. The Cadet Corps was becoming a do or die situation, so if he broke something, he would be sent home and everything would have been meaningless. There was no question that he and Annie would cross paths again, something that he dreaded, but he wouldn't get pummeled again. He needed to be ready, and he needed to win.
His thoughts were interrupted by the barracks' door opening. Coming in was Jean and Connie, both wearing grins.
"There you are," Connie said. "We didn't see you in the mess hall."
"I ate early," he explained. "I wanted to heal up from today's sparring session."
"That was the quite the performance you put on," Jean pointed out, leaning against the side of his own bunk. "It looked like the two of you were fighting to the death."
Dillon sat up, groaning a little bit from being sore. "Consider that a hard lesson learnt. In a real fight, no one is gonna hold back unless they are so good, they decide to toy with you. Why should I spar any differently?" He looked at both of them. "I can tell you two want something from me."
"We thought it would be neat if you could teach us a few things," Connie stated, eyes full of hope.
"That, and I wanted to know more about the Interior," Jean added. "It'll be nice to have a leg up three years from now."
"Why ask the guy who got his ass handed to him?" Dillon questioned. "You'd be better off asking Annie."
The looks on their faces said it all.
"Oh. Creeps you out, too, huh?" Dillon shrugged. "Sure, why not? Haven't taught anyone before. We'll have plenty of time to figure something out." He turned to Jean. "So, what-?"
The door slammed open, revealing Eren, who seemed to be at the end of his rope, and Armin, who was chasing after him in an effort to calm him down. Dillon raised an eyebrow at the fact there was a bandage wrapped around Eren's head, but he decided not to question it.
"Please, you need to tell me how you did it!" he begged. "How did you stay upright? What's your secret?" If Eren was desperate enough to ask Jean for advice on how to use the ODM, he was literally losing hope.
"Eren, calm down!" Armin urged before explaining the situation to the three. "Eren's been trying to work the ODM gear, but all he's got to show for it is a head injury. He needs help."
Connie and Jean and exchanged glances and snide smiles appeared on their faces. Dillon kept his mouth shut before he decided to suggest what kind of help Eren actually needed.
"What's the trick to posture control?" Connie asked in a patronizing tone. "Hard to say. Guess I've got the gift. You've just got to feel it, you know."
Jean didn't help matters. "I'm trying to figure out your trick. You've screwed up every way imaginable, short of an accidental, equipment-related asphyxiation."
Eren continued to plead his heart out. "Please, guys. You gotta help me. I'm begging you!"
Connie's smirk widened. "That's funny. Wasn't it just yesterday you said, 'If you can't handle the pressure, you gotta leave?' No, wait. Was it 'if you're a complete idiot, you gotta leave?' Something like that."
"I think you two fit the last one pretty well," Dillon interrupted, getting off his bed while glaring at them. Another groan left his mouth thanks to him aggravating his injuries, but he didn't really care. "He asks for help and you mock him for it, when less than a minute ago, you wanted my help with fighting. Hypocritical much? Eren, Armin, follow me."
Surprised, the two followed Dillon outside and shut the door.
"Okay, the advice I'm about to give you is advice you've probably heard today. You need to have balance." Seeing his expression look downcast confirmed his suspicions. "You did hear it today. Okay, how about advice I have trouble following myself? Hope for the best, prepare for the worst!"
A look of determination filled Eren's face. "I'm not giving up!"
"Good," Dillon congratulated. "I don't expect you to, but you need to be prepared for a scenario you don't want. I know you don't want to be shipped to the fields, and I don't expect you to be happy about it if it happens, but…sometimes there are battles you can't win."
He quickly realized who he just said that to as he received a deadly glare from him. "I'm not going to lose, Dillon. I'm going to master the ODM gear! Just you wait."
"Eren, he's not our enemy," Armin pointed out firmly before facing him. "Thanks."
"Get some rest," he advised. "You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow."
Dillon entered the barracks and closed the door when he realized the two weren't coming in. Now there was just one more problem to deal with.
"Don't kick a guy while he's down," he advised to Connie and Jean. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to sleep."
Satisfied, the two went to their own beds as he clambered into his own. He was going to be feeling it tomorrow.
(The next morning)
Work through the pain. He coached himself as getting food felt like a hassle. Last time he felt like this was last month when his dad put him through a final training session. At least he didn't have to use the ODM gear today.
"Hey, are you okay?" a small voice asked.
Dillon turned around and saw the girl that proved that heaven was indeed missing an angel. Her blue eyes were the most beautiful he had ever seen and her blonde hair was short enough to accentuate that fact. Speaking of short, though, she happened to be the shortest cadet he'd seen, her height only coming up to his neck, but he had no problem with it.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, he answered, "Um, yeah. I was just trying to get over my injuries. Still a bit sore from yesterday." More like a lot sore! "Dillon Amsdale."
"Krista Lenz," she introduced with a smile. "I hope you have a speedy recovery."
"You, too." He paused for a second, catching himself. "I mean, in the event you go through what I went through, I was just, uh—" When he noticed Krista chuckle, he gave up. "Never mind."
"I'm sorry," she apologized, containing herself.
Dillon let out a chuckle too. "Don't be. It was kind of funny."
"You two gonna sit or make out?" a female voice wondered, an air of teasing in her tone.
Sitting at a table nearby, he saw another girl with long black hair, some of it tied up in a ponytail, smirking at him. Her golden eyes watched them, almost as if in anticipation of what might happen next.
Krista's face turned red with embarrassment as she sputtered out, "Y-Ymir!"
There was nothing Dillon could think of saying other than, "Uh, I'm gonna… sit somewhere."
He ignored Ymir's chuckle as he walked away. Girls weren't a priority back home, which made things a little difficult when interacting with them. He could only imagine how stupid he looked to everyone else. A relatively handsome blacksmith with a good build fleeing from two girls? Titans would fear his name in no time.
He scanned the room, looking for somewhere to sit, and was surprised to find Annie sitting at a table alone. Instinct demanded to stay far away from the girl that put him in the infirmary yesterday and go join Jean. Then, he remembered he was still annoyed with him from last night and decided to live dangerously, sitting down at Annie's table.
"Sleep well?" he asked, munching on a piece of bread.
"As well as I could," she answered without looking at him. "What do you want?"
"Can't a guy exchange small-talk with someone every once in a while?" Dillon questioned, raising an eyebrow.
Annie stopped drinking her water and faced him. "You want something from me. Spit it out!"
Sheesh, do you need a doctor to get that stick out of your ass? "All right, Cold Eyes. I have decided to put myself in your presence in order to execute an exchange of dialogue in an effort to trade intel."
Annie gave him a blank look, unamused. "You're not funny."
Dillon chuckled. "No need to treat me like a thorn in your side, Annie. I'm just interested in getting to know the girl that kicked my ass yesterday."
"You can stop pretending that what I did to you didn't happen." She looked him dead in the eye. "You were afraid of me. Probably still are given you haven't lost your attempts at levity."
The smile immediately vanished from his face. "I actually thought you were going to kill me a couple of times," he said seriously.
Annie tapped her fingers on the table a couple of times before heaving a sigh. "It wasn't personal." And she left it at that.
Dillon could tell the girl wasn't one for apologies, and that was the closest he was gonna get. "Okay."
The two sat in silence as if they had an understanding with each other. Both simply sipped their water while the seconds ticked by. Perhaps it was best that he kept his mouth shut.
Which is why he didn't. "Where are you from?"
She sighed with annoyance. Maybe she was hoping for quiet. "Nowhere. I'm just one of the lucky refugees that fled Wall Maria."
He winced at that statement. "I'm sorry that happened."
Annie scoffed. "Don't be. You had no hand in what happened that day. Why bother feeling guilty for something that wasn't your fault?"
Dillon's eyebrows raised. "I get the feeling there was a double meaning to that."
"Maybe, maybe not." She snatched his piece of bread before he could finish it.
Part of him wanted to comment on her theft, but he decided to let it go and be more productive. After all, he was the one bombarding her with his presence. "So, how the hell are you that good at fighting?"
"Years of training from my father," Annie answered after she swallowed.
"Sounds like he put you through hell."
"Whatever it was, it made me who I am." Her eyes locked onto his again, that cold indifference ever so clear. "Friendly warning, Amsdale: I fight to win, not to spar. If you're not prepared for that, then it's going to hurt a lot. However…" She hesitated for a moment, pondering her next statement before going through with it. "…there are a couple of techniques that you'd do well to learn if you're willing."
"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks," Dillon replied surprisingly.
"Why? Because you want to start avoiding me now? Aren't you the gentleman?"
He rolled his eyes and said, "Because I'm not going to make it easy for you to beat me next time. I will have a rematch with you, and I will win on my terms."
She raised an eyebrow, but it vanished just as soon as it appeared. "If you insist. Just don't start moping when you lose."
Dillon couldn't help but laugh at that statement.
Now, Annie was confused. "What?"
"That word," he answered. '"Mope.' It's a funny word."
She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "It's not that funny."
Challenge accepted. "Oh, really? See it from my point of view." Clearing his throat, he did his best "Annie" impression. '"Hey, everyone. My name is Annie Leonhart. This is my friend, Dillon. He likes to mope."'
Annie's mouth started to twitch upwards. "It's… still not funny."
Dillon grinned, going in for the kill. "Annie, will you mope with me? Will you be my moping buddy?"
Never in his entire life did he ever see someone try so hard not to laugh. She covered her mouth to hide the smile and there were weird noises coming from her nose, though it wasn't loud enough to try attention. Despite her efforts, he heard a soft sound coming from her that came and went: a giggle. The girl that nearly gave him a concussion yesterday was giggling. His work here was done.
She looked up at Dillon, who had an impish smile on his face, and glared at him. "I really hate you right now," Annie stated, removing her hand.
"Completely worth it," he replied.
Before she could fire a retort, the bell started to ring, signaling the time to meet Shadis at the ODM training area.
"Let's go see if Eren can pull it off this time," Dillon said.
"Eren Yeager," Shadis said once Eren was strapped in. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir," he answered.
There were a lot of cadets today that hoped Eren would be able to pull this off, Mikasa and Armin being the biggest supporters. Dillon was among them, wanting his determination to pay off. Dreams being crushed were never good to watch.
"Proceed!" Shadis commanded.
Thomas nodded, turning the lever.
Slowly, the harness started to rise into the air as everyone waited with bated breath to see what would happen. Eren's determined look intensified the moment his feet left the ground. With a loud grunt, he kept himself upright for the first time. The cadets cheered loudly for him, thrilled that he accomplished what he wanted.
Unfortunately, that joy only lasted a few seconds. With a surprised yell, Eren toppled to the ground, upside down yet again. No one laughed this time around. Not even Jean was smirking at his failure.
The minute Shadis started towards him, Eren started panicking and begging. "No! Not yet! Once more! I can do it!"
"Lower him," he instructed, disappointment in his voice.
The minute he was on the ground, Eren fell to his knees in agony. There were even tears in his eyes. "I—I'm finished."
"Wagner, please exchange belts with Mr. Yeager."
Two things went through everyone's minds: "wait, what?" and "did Shadis say please?"
"Uh, yes, sir," Thomas replied, confused.
Once the belts were exchanged, the old one given to the drill instructor, Eren was lifted into the air again. This time, it was the complete opposite outcome. The green-eyed nut was achieving balance as if it came easy to him. It was so different that he almost toppled because of how easier it was.
"Your equipment was defective," Shadis explained, holding the now-apparent broken belt. "If given a piece of functional gear, you might not be worthless after all. Quartermaster didn't notice this broken clasp. Might have to visit the supply depo and crack a couple skulls."
Murmurs broke through the crowd. For broken equipment, Eren actually pulled it off for a little while. All Dillon could think about was how much he pitied the supply depo that would face Shadis's wrath soon.
"So, you mean I... I didn't wash out?" Eren dared to hope.
"You made the cut," he confirmed. "Now keep training, Cadet!"
A huge grin broke out on Eren's face, the happiest anyone had ever seen him. He was going to be what he always wanted to be: a soldier!
That meant he was sticking around. Damn it! Dillon thought.
Remastered Edits: The fight scene between Dillon and Annie went a bit differently than in the original. I was pointed out that while the two were trained extensively by their fathers, they had different ways about sparring. Annie treats it like life and death, Dillon treats it like a spar. The following conversation they have in the morning is also a bit different.
On a minor scale, Dillon's brief interaction with Ymir has been changed to something a bit more akin to his personality, and Eren has not figured out why Dillon enlisted.
Anyways, feel free to comment how you see fit and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
6/12/2020: Added a bit more substance to Reiner and Bertholdt's interactions with Dillon. An awkward substance, but I hope it was good. In light of the comments I received regarding Dillon's statement to Annie: "I didn't know if you were trying to help me or not," I changed it to a more serious response. The conversation that happens between them in the cafeteria is adjusted slightly to take that into account, so I hope it works.
Also, imaginary Shadis is best Shadis!
