"That sounds reasonable," I state after the tall traitor explains their proposition. More reasonable than I expected devils to be, at any rate. "But I have a couple concerns." The tall traitor looks pissed now. So does the short guy, but I'm starting to think that's his standard expression.

"Well, you're the restaurant expert," the Commander says after taking a sip of coffee, "so let's hear it." She looks eager, like she's actually curious what I'll say.

"First, you said this place used to be a pub and inn. Unless pubs are tiny on this island, we're going to need more than a chef and a waiter," I explain with a glance at the traitor named Griez, who I'm told had been a waiter before being drafted. "That's barely enough to staff a small café."

"How many more volunteers will you need?" the Commander asks.

I shrug. "Can't say for sure if I don't know how big or busy the place will be, but to start with we'll need several line cooks, prep cooks, waiters, bussers, and dishwashers." I'm thinking out loud now, about the minimal staff I could train up quickly to run a halfway decent restaurant with. Looks like I'll be doing the work of all of the management positions myself, at least at first. "Maybe a maître d' if the place is big enough. And if any of the cooks have talent, I could train up a few as specialist chefs. At the very least, I'll need a saucier, and it'd be nice to have a patissier and a rotisseur, maybe a poissonier or an entremetier…"

"There weren't that many galley staff on the ships," the tall traitor interrupts, "and they probably won't all volunteer to work in the city."

"I can train people. Everything except the specialist chefs, line cooks, and maître d' is a starting job, anyway."

"Is that how you learned?" the Commander asks.

I nod. "Do you have apprenticeships here?" When she nods, I continue, "That's how the restaurant I trained in worked."

She nods. "That makes sense. It almost sounds like working your way up the ranks in the military. So-"

"Oi, four eyes," the short devil interrupts. "I thought you said we didn't have time for questions?"

"Ah, that's right, I'll have to ask you later. As for your concern, we're sending some prisoners as a cleaning detail tomorrow, you three should accompany them and decide how many workers we need to recruit," she suggests while gesturing at the tall murderer, the waiter, and myself. "And since the military owns it, you can start out running it like a mess hall while you train the recruits, then open it as a restaurant when they're ready." I find myself nodding to her suggestions. As weird as she is, she seems pretty smart for an Eldian. And starting out operating as a mess hall in easy walking distance from scout headquarters? I try not to show how exciting that thought is. "Was there anything else?" she asks.

"You said the building's been abandoned since the wall fell. Will it really be safe for people to eat in there?" I've never had a guest get sick from my cooking and I'd rather not have a roof fall on any of them. Especially not Sasha. And even if the rest of those guests are damn devils, they're still guests that I'm responsible for when they're in my restaurant.

"Possibly." She sure knows how to inspire confidence. "A team of carpenters is there today to inspect it and repair anything needed. If they can't make it safe, we have some alternative sites picked out. What else?"

"One more thing." Before I can continue, the short devil throws down the cargo manifest he was reading and rushes out of the tent.

"Guess he found some," the commander laughs.

"Yes," Oyankopon confirms after glancing at the still open manifest, "one of the ship captains requisitioned a few pounds of assorted teas for the officer's mess on his ship."

"Hope there's some left," the commander remarks, still chuckling, "or he'll be an unbearable grump."

"That wasn't grumpy earlier?" I ask.

This sets her off laughing again. "That was just Levi being Levi. Now what's your last concern?"

"Two more," I answer, "I just thought of something else. As head chef, one of my jobs is making a menu. I'll need to know what ingredients and equipment are available first. And I don't even know what you use for money around here, I'll need some help setting prices."

"I know someone who can help you with that," she assures me. "I'll set up a meeting after you're settled in." She pulls out a pocket watch and glances at it before continuing, "We're almost out of time, make the last one quick."

This might be asking too much, but I might as well find out now. "Are we getting paid for this?"

"Of course, it'd be hard to recruit anyone to work there otherwise. And we're trying to have good relations with Marleyians, forced labor would be counterproductive. We're still discussing how much we'll pay, but volunteers like the four of you will be treated like civilian contractors, aside from needing a guard to accompany you any time you go outside a secure area like the prison camp or the restaurant. Oh, and Marleyians are currently forbidden from going past Wall Maria. I'm trying to get that changed, but in the meantime there's plenty of places in Shiganshina for you to spend your pay."

"Do I get back pay for the other day?" I impulsively ask.

The tall freak scowls at this. "Don't get greedy," she coldly instructs me, while the Commander chuckles.

"No, it's a fair question, Niccolo was working really hard and the food was wonderful. This was before we hammered out the restaurant proposal, so I'll have to write up a separate request, but I'll see what I can do for you."


"I still can't believe you agreed to work for those filthy devils," Klaus grumbles. "Shit, Sarge, you could get in some serious trouble for this."

"Getting put to work as a POW doesn't violate any regulations, as long as I don't leak secrets or fight for them," I point out. "Don't tell me you forgot those months we spent digging ditches and waiting for the next prisoner exchange after that Mid-East destroyer picked up our lifeboat a couple years back?"

"That's different, these are fucking devils!" he insists. "Sure, they won't throw you in the brig when we get back, but you just know our next officer's gonna be looking for an excuse to bust you back down to private if he hears you got friendly with a bunch of devils. Probably going to give you all the most dangerous missions, too."

I shrug at this. "Can't be worse than this suicide mission. Besides, I only have a couple years left to the end of my conscription. And we're likely stuck here until Marley finishes scouting out the place and invades, so I bet I'll be able to muster out with a big stack of back pay when we get back home."

"Unless the devils get tired of your cooking and feed you to a titan," Klaus retorts, pointing at me as well as he can with his hands tied to the wagon we're riding in. "I don't like all these risks you're taking here, Sarge." By the worried expressions on my squad's faces, I can see he's speaking for all of them.

"What if I'd said no, and they got mad and fed me to a titan then?" I ask. "They've treated us kindly so far, but that might just be because I've been doing what they want. There's a few good Eldians here, but we're still captives of devils, so I'm going to count any work done for them as under duress. I'm just lucky they're asking me to do something I like." And something that might give me a chance to talk with a certain girl, but my squad isn't ready to hear about an Eldian who's the furthest thing from being a devil. And I haven't a damn clue how I'll handle that discussion when it comes up.

"Do you really know how to do what the devils want, Sarge? You were just a cook back home, right? I remember back in training, you bitching all the time about how close you were to getting promoted to some leadership job before you got drafted."

"I was a rotisseur, not a cook, Klaus. That's pretty high up in the kitchen hierarchy and I had most of the training to become a sous chef. It'll be fine." I may have exaggerated a bit about how close I was to that promotion, but I should know enough to make this work.

I can tell by his expression he isn't convinced. "Whatever you call it, I remember you telling me you were getting trained to be second in command in a kitchen. Now you're gonna be responsible for the whole damn restaurant?"

I shrug. "Leading a restaurant can't be any harder than leading you maniacs. Might even be easier, I get to lead without getting shot at," I joke. Nobody's laughing, they all still look worried. "They probably won't even notice if I fuck something up, and I'm still the best damn chef on this island. Have a little faith in me here, I'll make it work." Hopefully.

"It's not your skills we're doubting, Sarge," Lucille tells me. "It's just… devils."

"Yeah, who knows what they'll do," Andre adds.

"The ones I fed the other day were appreciative enough. And from what I hear, they gossip as much as any other soldier and word's gotten around; they all want to try my food now. It'll be fine."

"You know, Sarge, it's kinda weird how much you hang out with that devil," Diego tells me.

"You only have smokes in your pocket because I hang out with that guy," I point out. "There can't be many good Eldians on this damned island, we're lucky I met one who could help us out. And chatting with guards could get us some useful information, you should try it."

Diego shakes his head at this. "Intelligence gathering's way above my pay grade, Sarge."

Olga smirks at him. "Yeah, we all know you have nothing to do with intelligence, Diego. But I never knew the Sarge had such a silver tongue. First you get us smokes, what's next, beer?"

"Now that you mention it…" They don't look so worried now, more like various stages of eagerness and disbelief.

"No way, how?" Guido asks.

"They're going to pay any prisoners working for them. I asked if I could buy some beer after work and bring it back to you all, they said it was fine. As long as nobody becomes an obnoxious drunk and ruins it for the rest of us." That gets some smiles out of them. It's been a long damn time since we had shore leave. Feels good to see their morale up, they've all been down in the dumps since we were briefed on our mission.

"Hey Sarge," Enzo speaks up, "what's that thing you said you were earlier? Rot, um…"

"Rotisseur. It's a type of chef, basically means I was the meat expert. Not that type of meat," I add when he tries to stifle a laugh. "At least not during working hours." That gets a chuckle out of the rest of the squad. Things are looking up.


Shit. I wasn't ready for how big that damn wall is. We're still at least half a kilometer away and it just keeps getting taller and more horrifying every time I look. Any good feelings my squad had are long gone now that we're so close to the weapon the devils' kings have been threatening the world with for the past hundred years. I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight, so close to where those monsters are sealed up. If I do, I hate to think the sort of dreams I'll have.

We all sit quietly now, heads down, occasionally stealing a glance at the terror before us before averting our gazes. The prisoners in the other carts I can see seem to be doing the same. And that damn wall just keeps getting closer, a looming promise of death to everyone back home. I hadn't thought seeing the thing would be so bad; hell, I've been aware how the things in that wall could kill me at any time since back when I was a little kid in school. I guess it wasn't really real to me until I laid eyes on it. I suppose we'll adjust to it eventually, but damn.


"It's time," the overly tall freak calls to me across the large, hastily constructed cabin that we're using as a mess hall. Some of the prisoners are still sleeping in tents as construction continues, and all of the window and door frames are still empty, but it was still nice to get what little sleep I could last night with an actual roof over my head for the first time in nearly a week, laying on a flimsy cot instead of the cold ground. Food's a bit better, too. Instead of being served plain, the bowl of porridge I just finished had a slice of cheese and a fried egg on top. I get up from the roughly made bench and am surprised when Klaus stands as well.

"Volunteered for the cleaning crew," he explains when I send him a questioning glance. "Someone's gotta watch your back in that fucking devil city."

I nod. "Thanks, Klaus." I'm sure if they planned to do something to me, they already would have, but it'll feel reassuring to have someone trusted and capable backing me up just in case. And considering how many times we've saved each other's asses over the years, there's nobody I trust more.

"Tall bitch wouldn't let the rest of us come," Diego complains. "Said no more than two from a squad on the same work detail."

"Guess she doesn't trust us," I state. "Doesn't want a bunch of people used to working together outside at the same time. That's fine, I don't trust her either. You maniacs stay out of trouble while we're gone, alright?" I instruct with a wave before heading to the door.

Wall's even more imposing up close. I know those things won't do anything unless the devil with the founding titan orders it, but I still feel a creeping dread as I walk closer.

I try to be calm and rational, to look for useful information I can report back as I observe it. Surely they wouldn't activate the rumbling while a large number of devils are on top of the wall. Large amount of artillery is also on top, looks like assaulting this thing would be an absolute meat grinder. "The hell is that?" I ask, pointing at what looks like a crystal statue of a titan sticking out of the wall around the entrance.

"That's where Eren Jeager sealed the breached gate," one of the guards escorting us explains, "which let us take back the land between the walls and end the famine."

It looks familiar. "Is that the same guy that carried our ship out of the water?"

"Yeah," a different guard answers as we step under the looming titan and pass into a roughly hewn tunnel. "Weren't you introduced when you fed him a few days back?"

I shake my head. "Didn't catch many names, I was too busy cooking." Really, I only caught one. Didn't even know I was feeding a titan. I wonder, is he that other titan Marley never had, or is that what it looks like when a guy inherits the female titan? Definitely not the colossal or the founder, it's too small for one and even devils wouldn't be dumb enough to risk an outsider like me poisoning either of their most powerful weapons.

In any case, I'm sure whoever it was will be back for more once we start serving food. Maybe I can ask him. Could be a useful bit of information, especially if the traitors succeed at opening diplomatic relations, since that would probably lead to a prisoner release. As we step back out into the sun, I cast a glance back and can't help a surprised laugh at the sight of a gigantic crystal ass sticking out of the wall. Is this their monument to victory over the warrior unit?

One of the guards grins at my laughter. "You'll eventually get used to seeing Eren's ass every day," she explains, drawing chuckles from several of the other guards. Most of our guards separate from us as we move further into the city. They clearly aren't needed anymore; all of us except Griez and the murderous beanpole were ordered to change into our uniforms and we stick out like sore thumbs. Curious and suspicious gazes are directed at us from all sides as we walk down the street, escaping into the city clearly isn't an option.


We're walking through an open air market deep into the devil city and I'm gazing curiously at the wares on display when a dulcet voice calls out, "Mr. Niccolo!"

She's smiling at me. Oh shit, she's smiling at me! I should say something cool instead of just waving back like a dumbass while she threads her way through the crowd towards me. "Oi, where do you think you're going?" a guard snaps while grabbing my shoulder. "You were told not to wander off." I hadn't even realized I was walking towards her.

"Ah, I, uh, just need to talk to someone real quick," I explain. The damn devil laughs at this. I'm about to tell him off, but there's suddenly someone more important standing in front of me. "Hello, Ms. Sasha. I, um, I wasn't expecting to run into you today," I blurt out. No, I was supposed to say something cool! Shit, she's gonna think I'm just some dork who happens to be good in the kitchen. Ah, shit, just don't blush in front of her, please…

"Same," she giggles, briefly meeting my gaze before looking down and to the side. "Like you were on a grocery run or something, just walking along, looking at the produce."

I'm racking my brain for something to say next and she's idly digging at the street with the toe of her shoe when the overly tall blonde bitch interrupts us, "Stop dawdling, Niccolo, we should already be inspecting the restaurant, but you keep dragging your feet."

"Inspecting the what?" Sasha's eyes snap up and meet mine, a bit wide as if she wasn't sure she heard right.

"Um, yeah. Your Commander asked me to open up a Marley-style restaurant." Her eyes widen a bit further and her jaw slackens a little. "Uh, Ms. Sasha?"

Suddenly she leaps an impressive distance into the air, pumping a fist up and shouting, "Yes!" I try not to gawk at the brief glimpse of shapely calves I catch as her skirt flairs up on the way back down, focusing instead on the broad grin plastered across her beautiful face. "Did you guys hear that?" she asks while spinning around gracefully. "Mr. Niccolo's opening a restaurant!" I hadn't even noticed she wasn't alone, the black-haired woman and two of the men who I had served dinner to are standing behind her.

"Yeah, we were all standing right here," the taller guy remarks, rolling his eyes. The other guy's grinning and the woman wears a very faint smirk.

"Oh, right." She's blushing lightly when she turns back toward me. Damn, she's cute when she blushes.

"So, um, want to see it?" I offer. "I can give you the nickel tour while I'm figuring the place out."

"I'd love to!" she exclaims, eyes lighting up. "But Mr. Niccolo, what's a nickel?"

"I'll explain on the way, angry beanpole's gonna blow a fuse if we don't get moving," I tell her while jerking a thumb over my shoulder in the general direction of said beanpole.

"Looks more like she wants to punch you instead of blowing anything," Sasha observes, eyes narrowing as she looks past me. "Better not," she adds bluntly, with a hard look in her eyes. Seems like the bowlcut traitor rubs Sasha the wrong way too. Good.

""Can we please just go, instead of standing here arguing?" Griez asks.

"Come on, guys," Sasha shouts excitedly to her comrades, "let's go go see Mr. Niccolo's restaurant!"

"Ah, Ms. Sasha? You don't have to be so formal," I say as we set off. "I'm just a prisoner, after all."

"No you're not," she denies, falling in step next to me.

"Huh? I'm not a prisoner?"

"Not just a prisoner. You're still a person, too."

"Oh." That's definitely not something a devil would say. This girl's an angel. "That's rather kind of you, Ms. Sasha. I'm sure most people in this city would just see an enemy." Some of the looks from the crowd this morning have been downright hostile.

"That's just how my dad taught me to treat people." That must be why Sasha speaks more formally than the other Eldians I've met. Her father must be some kind of statesman or philosopher. "Now, I'm almost afraid to ask, but what's a fuse?"

"Oh, I guess you don't have electricity here." Looking around, I definitely haven't seen any signs of it. "It's just a phrase, when someone gets so mad it's like they're exploding, we say they blew a fuse."

"That makes a lot more sense than… well, than what it sounded like you were saying she was going to do. You probably shouldn't use that phrase in public," Sasha advises me. I nod and make a mental note to ask Samuel about it later. Hope I didn't accidentally offend her. "So, what's this nickel you're giving me a tour of? Or is that more Marley slang?" She asks curiously.

"Ah, yeah, it's basically just the quick and cheap tour," I explain. Maybe I should follow the example of her formal speech patterns, at least until I get a handle on local slang. Wouldn't do to confuse or offend my customers.

"All we get is quick and cheap?" She puts on an adorable pout that doesn't reach her eyes.

"That's all I've got til your Commander starts paying me," I tell her with a chuckle. "Maybe I'll give you the expensive tour later. Are you off duty today?" All four of them are in civilian clothes for whatever reason.

"Oh, yeah, my squad's off today. Well, not really my squad, I'm just second in command, but we ended up off the same day as Jean's squad and we've been friends for years, ever since training, so we all went out for breakfast together this morning and-"

"You're rambling," the black-haired woman interrupts. "Breath." Odd thing to say. Both guys are smirking, though she said it with a straight face, and Sasha's blushing again. Maybe it's an inside joke between those four?

I should probably change the subject if she's getting embarrassed. "Ms. Sasha, I didn't catch your friends' names."

"No? Well, let me introduce you to three of my very best friends. Over there is my Captain, Mikasa. She's kinda the first person from our island you met, when she kicked you in the head and made you drop your pistol." Strange, that sounds like a Hizuru name. She looks like she might have a bit of their ancestry, too.

"That was you?" I ask, receiving a nod in reply. "Did you make me drop my bayonet, too?" I didn't get a good look, but she looks about the same size as the woman who almost squeezed my head off.

"Your what?" she asks.

"That big knife I had," I elaborate. Do they not have bayonets? The guards have all been carrying old style muzzleloaders and I was wondering why they didn't have bayonets fixed when keeping the prisoners in line.

"Yes," she replies, "you were surprisingly stubborn. I thought I was going to have to choke you all the way out."

"Just about blacked out," I confirm. "Hope you don't hold that mess later on against me." And is there any diplomatic way to ask if they all have that frightening strength?

"It's fine, my boot rinsed off easy enough. I'd have gone slower if I knew you had such a delicate stomach." Is she busting my balls? Yeah, I think she is. Completely deadpan delivery, but half the guards are smirking and the short guy choked down a laugh. Well, all I can do is roll with it, show I can take it.

"Just be glad I didn't have a second helping of dinner," I reply with a chuckle, "probably would've gotten it inside both boots." That gets a reaction, a brief grimace.

"Ugh!" the shorter guy exclaims, "Puke down your boots is the worst!"

"What, someone got you too?" I ask.

"Not lately," he replies, "but one time there was a bad flu going around the barracks. Getting puke between your toes really sucks!"

"Sucks?"

"That's some Eldian slang for you," Sasha informs me. "It means it wasn't good. That's Connie, by the way. Second in command of Jean squad, and the other guy's the Squad Leader, Jean."

I nod at the introductions. Weird how they name their squads after officers instead of using numbers like about every other country. And do they really have two different titles for people leading a squad, or did I misunderstand? "Not a Captain?"

"No, Captains have smaller squads, they're either less experienced or they do some special purpose, like how I'm on one of the special operations squads." Huh, sounds about how Samuel described her squad, elite.

"Well, I didn't bring my whole squad along either," I tell them while pointing, "but I did bring along my second in command, Klaus, who also happens to be my oldest and best friend." He responds by sneering at the Eldians and turning away from them. "Ah, he takes a bit to warm up to new people."

"Sarge, I have no intention of warming up to any damn devils," he contradicts me. Aw hell, way to make things awkward.

"Hey, uh, what's that fruit they're selling over there?" I ask, pointing at a random stall in an attempt to change the subject. The rest of the walk through the market is spent with less objectionable conversation about local ingredients. I'm pleasantly surprised to find Sasha and her friends knowledgeable enough about local cooking methods to tell me when the ingredients we pass are in season and how the locals prepare them, giving me a fair idea of how to incorporate many of them into my menu. I'm also surprised to learn that there's a long-standing debate over who the better cook is between Sasha and Jean.

As we exit the market, I keep the conversation going by asking Sasha what her favorite thing to cook is and find myself learning about the wide variety of wild game on this island. Including, interestingly enough, large numbers of formerly domesticated animals that went feral and spread across the island in the years that the land between the first two walls was abandoned.

I listen raptly as she tells about an expedition outside the walls where they found a vast herd of wild cattle, how she downed the largest one with a single arrow and then fed the whole expedition with it. Her friends and several guards speak up to confirm how delicious the unexpected feast was.

"Hey, um, Ms. Sasha? I don't suppose maybe next time you go hunting, I could try some?" She must take a lot of pride in her skills at hunting and cooking, her face absolutely lights up at my request.

"You really want to try my cooking, Mr. Niccolo?" she asks, hands clasped in front of her chest. She seems nervous for some reason. I wonder why?

"It sounds really great," I tell her with a smile. "And, well, most of my experience is with farm-raised meat. Some of those animals you mentioned, I didn't even know were good for eating, but now you have me curious how they taste."

"Just you wait," she promises with an eager grin. "Next time I have a couple days off, I'll go out and kill something delicious for you."

"I'll be looking forward to it. So, do hunters sell much meat in the market?"

"Not so much now that the farmers have their herds built back up. Mostly just waterfowl."

I nod. "I'll definitely have fowl on the menu, then. What sort of meats do the farmers sell?" We spend some time talking about meat and some of the ways I might serve it. This turns into a discussion on roasting methods that the two of us are still deep into when we arrive at the possible restaurant site. Bigger than I thought it'd be.

"It's right down the street from headquarters!" Connie exclaims enthusiastically.

"That's great!" Sasha agrees with a similar level of enthusiasm. "And it's big enough you can probably feed the whole Survey Corps at once!"

"I'm going to have to train more workers than I thought," I remark as we draw near the entrance.

"Sounds like it won't be open for a while," Sasha says, looking a bit less happy.

"Yes and no. It won't be open as a restaurant until the food is up to my standards. But it will be open; your military's bankrolling the place, so it'll be a mess hall while I'm training the staff."

"That means it's free, right?" Sasha asks.

"Should be, yeah." Even the guards look happy about that. I guess even mystery food made by trainees beat normal rations. "Klaus, take charge of the cleaning detail," I order as we enter the building.

"On it, Sarge," he replies. He may not be feeling social today, but as always he's up for delegation, he gets them organized and at work with his typical efficiency. It takes barely a minute of conferring with Griez before we have some tentative numbers for the bowlcut beanpole.

"Kitchen's not big enough," I remark as I step into it. "Get those carpenters back here and knock this wall out, the room needs to be twice this size at least. Need more stoves than that. And are these wood burners?" I ask, looking closer at the very rustic equipment that was left behind.

"That's the technology level you're dealing with," the traitorous freak confirms. "Why, are you unable to work with these?"

I scoff at the suggestion. "Of course I can work with these, they'll just take a little longer to teach the recruits how to do use properly." More like a lot longer. Damn, I wish they had gas stoves. "As long as we're working with firewood, I'll need brick and clay to put together a couple specialized ovens. And have the carpenters knock down a few walls upstairs while they're at it, we can convert some of the inn rooms into private dining for local VIPs." She actually smiles at this suggestion. Creepy, she almost looks hungry.

"Very good, Niccolo. We're done here, come along."

"You two go ahead, I'm going to lend the cleaning crew a hand," I state as I pick up a dust mask from the cleaning supplies.

"Suit yourself," she says before finally, thankfully, leaving with Griez in tow.

"I'll help too!" Sasha volunteers.

"You're really going to clean years of grime on your day off?" I ask, surprised.

"The way I see it," she explains, "the sooner this place is clean, the sooner I get to eat here."

"That's true. Thank you, Ms. Sasha."

"Guys, can you help too?" she asks her friends.

Mikasa shrugs. "I can stick around a while longer."

"Same," Connie adds, "I didn't really have anything planned for today."

"Sorry, but I did," Jean announces. "Taking Natalya out horseback riding in about an hour, I need to go get ready."

"Hey, dating the same girl two weeks in a row," Sasha remarks with a smirk, "sounds like someone's moving up in the world."

"Shut up, at least I'm putting myself out there and trying, unlike some guys we know."

"Hey!" Connie protests. "I talk to girls!"

"I was talking about Eren and Armin," Jean clarifies. "But now that you mention it, it doesn't really count when you spend half the night talking with a girl and then lose your nerve and leave the bar without asking her out."

"Man, that doesn't always happen. It's just hard, you know," Connie claims, looking downcast. I never expected devils to talk about something so normal. It's almost mundane. I'd think they were regular people if I didn't know that a needle can transform any one of them into monsters.

"Yeah, I know, the Captain was right, like normal. But that just means we need to keep trying. I'll see you all over drinks tonight and let you know how it turned out. I've got a good feeling about this one, " Jean declares before turning to the door.

"And he jinxed himself," Sasha sighs as the door closes. "Again."

"Jinxed?" I ask as the trio of Eldians tie on dust masks.

Sasha explains, "Every time he says things are going good with a girl, they start to fall apart."

"Makes sense. We say someone's cursing themselves when that happens." And this is weird, they're all tying on a second dust mask, worn on top of their heads. Is this some local custom?

Silly as they may look, they definitely work harder than I expected. And now everyone else is increasing their efforts. We were all taught as children that Eldians were shiftless and lazy, seems nobody wants the shame of being outworked by one. If we can keep this pace, it should only take a few days to get this place in acceptable condition for feeding people in.

"Hey, Ms. Sasha?" I call when she starts scrubbing the window next to the one I'm working on. "If you don't mind me asking, who's the Captain and what were they right about?" Aside from their Commander, this was the first time I heard an Eldian refer to an officer by just their rank.

"Oh, that's Captain Levi. You've met him, right?"

"Yeah." And it took a few meetings before I stopped expecting him to kill me at any moment.

"It's kinda complicated, but we all ended up on his squad just a few weeks out of training. We were all pretty much still kids, and everyone but me and Jean was an orphan, and Jean's dad died back when he was a toddler, so the Captain kinda ended up becoming a dad for the squad. A really strict dad but still a dad."

"Huh. He doesn't really seem the type."

"Yeah, he was really scary when I first met him too. But then he turned out to be one of the kindest people I know. Well, unless you're an enemy. Or threaten someone he cares about. Or make a big mess and don't clean it up right away. That's still the worst tongue lashing I've ever had."

"Tongue lashing?"

"It's like a really angry lecture that makes you wish he was punching you instead of beating you up with words."

"Hm, guess it's true here too, you can't lead a squad right without that skill."

"Yeah. Mikasa sometimes jokes that I only need to make a few more recruits cry before I get promoted to captain. But anyways, he's always willing to give us time when one of us needs to talk and he's ended up giving us all kinds of advice, like what normal kids learn from their parents. Um, but some of it's, well, I'm sure you know how he talks."

"Definitely an impressive vocabulary," I agree. "You don't have to repeat it to me if you don't want to." Judging by the faint blush creeping past the edges of her dust mask, I shouldn't have asked that question.

"No, I don't embarrass easily," she insists as the blush creeps further. "Basically he told us that since we were famous now, it'd get really easy to find someone to, uh, sleep with us and really hard to find someone to have a relationship with. But he said it more, um, creatively."

"I can imagine. So you guys are famous?" I ask, latching onto the opportunity to change the subject as I feel my own face warming.

"Yeah, but not for any good reason. We just got lucky and were part of the nine scouts who didn't die in the battle to take this city back. The beast titan killed almost the whole Survey Corps, but if you ask most people about it, they only remember Commander Erwin. I almost ended up dead and forgotten too, fighting the armored titan."

"That must've been scary," I remark. I've seen the beast in action and wouldn't want to be on the receiving end. Especially not with archaic technology.

"Yeah. The fame's not all of Jean's problem, though. See, he's had a crush for years on this one girl that he knows has had a crush on another guy for even longer. And if that's not awkward enough, all three have been friends for years. So he's trying to move on and find someone else, but I don't think his heart's in it."

"Sounds rough." We continue chatting about lighter topics, occasionally joined by Connie who tries several times to strike up conversation with other prisoners, unsuccessfully. Eventually we break for a lunch of cold bread, livened up by passing around a few bottles of wine we found with damaged, unreadable labels. One of them had turned to vinegar, but the others were very good. I'm not sure if that means this was a high class pub, or if the vintners on this island are just that skilled. The other prisoners hesitated at first, but it's been over a month since any of us have had alcohol, so they're all drinking enthusiastically now, with no care for who had the bottle last.

"Mr. Niccolo, want another sip?" Sasha asks, smiling sweetly as she holds out a bottle.

"Thanks." I take a long pull from the bottle, smiling widely, before passing it on. "I really appreciate all the help today, Ms. Sasha, ever since our talk in the market. Feels like I should do something for you now, so what do you say to dinner sometime?" Wait, should I have thought more before saying something like that? Shit, I hope I didn't just screw things up.

"Woah, we're getting free dinner out of this?" Connie asks. Did I read the room wrong? Or is he giving me an out in case she says no?"

"He's asking her out, dummy," Mikasa promptly corrects him, loud enough for everyone to hear. So much for having an out. Aw hell, I feel my face warming up again. Hope nobody notices.


Note: Sorry for the delay, my productivity has been horrible lately. Hopefully things don't seem to be moving too quickly. I got the impression from both the manga and anime that Niccolo is ballsy, impulsive, and temperamental, among other things, so delaying didn't seem like it'd be in character. And yes, that was a reference to the cooking contest OVA earlier.