Sasha messes around with me for a few more minutes. It's as if she's totally forgotten that I am, in fact, a nineteen year old university student studying literature. No, instead I am Jean Kirstein, professional puppy. Honestly, I'd rather not be doing this. As pleasant as the whole situation of me being tickled, rubbed and stroked by a pretty, young woman may be, I have a fair amount of self-respect I'd like to uphold. Mikasa is still tormenting Eren with threats of his past accidental transformations, and when she's done with that, she decides to leave and take Sasha with her.
"You know, Bertholdt's looking for you. You really should talk to him, it sounds important." The red-haired girl informs me, getting ready to exit my room.
"How important is it?" I ask, seeing her out the door.
"I think he knows who did it." She replies, somewhat cryptically. She's halfway down the hall by the time she finishes her sentence.
I go back to my bed. Eren has seemingly fallen asleep on his oh-so-comfortable new mattress. I'm stuck in here now, whether I like it or not. If I go out, there's gonna be cries of a monster on campus, and I've already taken that beating.
The truth is, you know how I said I'm not completely skilled at controlling my transformations? Well, slight setback. I can't turn back into a human at will. Considering that so-called supportive upbringing from my mom, I'm surprised she never taught me how to turn back on my own. She always had this horrific medicine that tasted like bone marrow, and she made me take it whenever I transformed. It'd send me right back, but I never figured out how.
It's now that I've figured out why I wasn't left in hospital. Part of their code of conduct is that they can't treat werewolves because of the altered anatomy, and not to mention the safety risks involved. I was unconscious when they brought me in, so I doubt they would've been able to give me that god-awful medicine. That's why they left me in my own bed.
I'm left pondering my thoughts for a few minutes, when I hear a knock on the door. I wonder if Sasha left her keys behind or something. I walk past the gently snoring Eren and look through the peephole. I can't open the door straight away - If it's someone I don't know, I could be in big trouble, letting them see me like this.
I can't tell who it is. They're pretty short and wearing a dark green hooded cloak with the Wings of Freedom on one shoulder. The Wings of Freedom are the university's logo, so I'm guessing this person must be some student.
"Who is it?" I call through the door feebly. The person pulls out a small note from under their cloak and slides it under the worn slab of oak. I pick it up and unfold it. The handwriting is untidy and the whole thing looks rushed.
They're going to expel him. Do you regret what you did?
What? Seriously... what? Who's 'him'? The attacker? What did I do? I grip the door handle, claws digging into the underside of my hand. The moment the mysterious person outside sees the handle turning, they run. I find myself flinging to door open so hard, it leaves a dent in the wall. They're nearly at the end of the long dormitory hallway.
They've grown. They're at least two feet taller, their new long legs allowing them to run faster than you could imagine.
A shapeshifter.
I sprint after them, dropping the note behind me. I barely notice when I drop to all-fours (or threes, considering the state of my left arm), improving my speed and managing to look like a complete dickhead. I live on one of the higher floors, so at this point I could either slow down and take the lift or practically nosedive down the stairs.
I'm not particularly compulsive, but this time I feel desperate. I grab the railing of the stairway with my unimpaired hand and drop to the ground, not even bothering to take the steps. When I hit the ground, I land badly and I feel my broken arm shift slightly in its cast.
Shit. Now it hurts again.
I let out a yelp and continue running, staggering from the shock of the fall. It's at this point I know they could be anywhere. They could've escaped into someone's room. They could be outside. They could be anywhere. Plus, they're a shapeshifter. Right now, not only could they be anywhere, but they could also be anybody. It's only when I see the flourish of their cloak disappear around the corner leading outside, that I know I haven't lost them.
I continue the chase. My arm still hurts and I'm worried I made it worse. My muscles are starting to ache from the leap. Why did I just have to go and be so stupid? I could've taken the lift and not be feeling how I am.
No, I can't think like that. I can see them now, and I would've taken much longer had I taken the elevator. They're right ahead of me as I skid around the corner.
They're running in a straight line now. They're slowing. They're heading for the lunch hall. I'm catching up, despite only having three limbs to run with. I'm going to catch them. I have to.
I'm right behind them. As I run, I ascend back onto my legs and reach out with my hand. I grip the end of their cloak, but they speed up. My claws rip through the soft material, and I don't catch the runner, only a segment of the stupid hoodie as a token. How tight do they have that thing? It didn't even slip off their shoulders. The force of ripping off the fabric makes me fall over, again on my broken arm.
I have to persevere. I have to keep going. I falter back upright. I refuse to give up the chase. They run into the hall, practically kicking the doors open. I burst in just behind.
Fuck.
I'm an actual fucking idiot.
It was a trap.
They've got me in here, now, and it's just time for dinner. The room's packed with students and I can't even see a green hood any more. To make matters worse, everyone's staring at me. I squeeze the shred of fabric in my hand as I balance on it. My breathing is heavy and my teeth are bared.
I really must look like a monster to some of these guys. They're all gawking at me, in awe, or wonderment... or fear.
As if I didn't already have a bad reputation here.
There's a girl near the front of the crowd. I don't know her name but I've seen her before. She has voluminous black hair in pigtails that hang over each shoulder. She looks like she's going to scream.
That'll really do me in. If she causes a scene, people are going to think I did worse than just bursting in through the doors as a bloody werewolf.
I'm still, and silent. I'm just as scared as they are.
The girl's mouth is widening. She's going to do it. Please don't scream. I'm begging you here. I guess I'm not helping; I'm staring straight at her, willing for her to stop.
My gaze is broken when somebody steps in front of me, facing the mob.
"He's gonna do it again!" I hear a small voice at the back of the crowd. Voices start picking up, calls of bloody murder spreading through the hall.
"Just leave him alone. Can't you see he's injured?" The person in front of me speaks. Until now, I've been too shocked to look up and see who it is.
Oh, it's him alright. Just like the infamous Mikasa incident, Freckled Jesus is here to save my sorry ass.
"You know what he can do, though. Don't you remember what that thing did to you?" Another voice calls. Thanks, calling me a 'thing' is such a mature thing to say. What are you, five? This is university.
I take a few steps back. Maybe I can just leave and it'll all be over.
"I think he should be expelled, not you." The same voice continues.
What?
Why are they expelling Marco? He's a star student, or so I'm told.
"No, expel both of them. They're all the same." Yet another voice argues. Am I missing something here?
Suddenly it clicks.
Now I have a reason to be angry. Why didn't I ever think of this? I'm a complete and utter fucking idiot. One year ago, I attacked Marco Bodt on a full moon. He lost an eye. If it went to that extent... There must've been more than just scratching involved.
I didn't just leave him maimed.
I cursed him.
I guess nobody had the heart to tell me I did this. Either that, or they assumed I'd worked it out.
Does this mean he was.. No, he couldn't be, could he? I just can't imagine him... No.
On the night where I was attacked, it wasn't a full moon. The werewolf in question must've been conscious of what they were doing.
Would this guy have the heart to take revenge like that? Why now? Why would he target Erwin Smith, too? Does this mean the third victim was Reiner?
I stare up at Marco. He's turned his head to look at me. I can't see what kind of expression he has from this angle, but I'm guessing he feels pretty saddened.
"Just let me sort this out. Go back to whatever it is you were doing." He instructs the crowd, and believe it or not, they follow his order, as if he;s some sort of saint. Even the people who argued against him leave us.
He turns to face me and holds out a hand. I take it wearily and he helps me up. I'm speechless, and I think he can see that.
"Are you alright?" He asks me. I don't like being this close to him. That eye patch makes me feel guilty. The scars patterned across his face and arm look so much worse this close. I nod in reply, cradling my broken arm. He notices the cast, and immediately his expression changes from concern to guilt, and then... confusion?
"I don't remember doing it," He claims, "But if it's true... I'm so sorry."
He sounds genuinely guilty. It feels wrong, though. Surely he would remember something - there's no way he couldn't have been conscious if it wasn't a full moon.
I'm still dumbstruck. Do I ask him what happened? Do I ask him about what I did to him? ...Do I ask him if he knew the person who left the note?
Before I can ask him anything, he speaks up again.
"I'm sorry, I'll catch up with you later." He taps my shoulder and walks off. I wonder if he's leaving now because he feels guilty, or because he can see I'm feeling upset. Or maybe he just wants some alone time. Maybe he just has nothing else he wants to say and feels too awkward to just walk away. Honestly, that's worse because now I'm left here, standing awkwardly, on my own, as a werewolf with a broken arm.
A few people are still staring. Most of them are trying to ignore me. Obviously the black haired girl is one of the few whose gaze hasn't left me.
I'm too stupefied to move properly, and I lazily lean myself against the wall. I peer around the room, and out of the corner, I recognise something.
In someone's bag, I can see the corner of some fabric sticking out. It's green, the same green as the cloak of the person I was chasing. They obviously shoved it into that bag in a hurry.
The bag is sat next to a short, blonde girl. Annie Leonhardt. She, as always, is accompanied by the one and only Bertholdt Hoover.
Something here's suspicious. It's starting to make sense, though. Was Bertholdt going to tell me Marco did it? Was luring me in here and making a scene his backup plan?
I only have one thing to say.
Why?