You had a heart once.

First, back in the Old World, it was soft, gullible - curious and giving. Growing up had made it jaded and more selfish.

In this new world, it found a new reason to resonate and beat. First it had done so to satiate the gentleness of your parents, so kind and loving. And then it met your sister. And it knew innocence again. It learned how to love without expectations, how to give without motives. You loved her.

And you had lost her.

You fell to your knees for the second time in this new life.

Your reason for living lost once more.

The titans smiled down at you, childlike and not unlike a newborn grinning for the first time. As if you were the answer and cause to their happiness. And perhaps you were, you were after all, providing them another meal? Could you accept this end?

Would the world accept this second conclusion and finally let you go?

Perhaps a dark, sleepless slumber awaited you.

But did you deserve that?

You had given your all to your younger sister here, and hoped that kindness was enough to earn your final rest.

"Oi!"

Your body coiled around another's at a blinding speed as a lanky arm whisked you through the air, away from death. Cheated again from the end it seemed.

You forced yourself to breathe out and looked blankly at the person that picked you up. A rusty box of iron and dulled pair of swords swarmed your vision. Somewhere in the haze of your brain, you realized a member of the Garrison had saved you.

He spoke, maybe even yelled at you, but the weight of your losses dulled your senses. In the end, you supposed he had realized that a corpse was in front of him and instead of arguing, he dragged your beating carcass towards those damned gates again.

Belatedly and ironically, as the doors finally closed down before you - you realized that there would be no body to bury your sister. To show for your efforts - to bring closure to your parents.

Oh.

Your parents.

Again, a Garrison soldier is upon you, talking to unlistening ears, gesturing to your arms. You finally drag your gaze towards the location of where his fingers are pointing and realize you are missing the victimized insignia of the conscripts.

Oh -

In the final stretch, Grandpa Arlet had torn something off of his arm and shoved it into your pocket. You pulled the fabric out for the soldier to inspect. He doesn't seem satisfied, but the emptiness in your disposition forced some guilt out which he used to ignore the lack of identification numbers on the patch. He then pointed towards a long line of poor dilapidated buildings and specifically, towards one abundant with undernourished children. You moved there, unfeeling until you saw him.

Bright blond hair, sky-awed eyes - Grandpa Arlet had spoken of a grandchild once, and through the hazy memory of your old world, you quickly recognised whose attention you had caught.

You tried to look away quickly, feelings surfacing up too fast for you to control at the recollection of his name - of the loss of your sister, but it wasn't fast enough. Armin had caught your gaze. Had seen the worn-out fabric in your hand.

Kind, he was too kind.

Like his grandfather, he approached you.

And like the child your mind was trapped in, you broke and cried. And apologized. Through the tears, you had managed to tell him what happened. What he had lost. That you had almost made his death in vain.

You expected anger, fists - but the old man had never described his grandchild as a fiery boy. You wished he was though, because as his arms wrapped around you, you felt more indebted to the man that tried to give you and your sister a chance at life again. At a life you had almost thrown away.

You ignored the two shadows lingering at the corner as you and Armin continued to mourn, but eventually, he had pulled away - not without keeping one hand wrapped around yours, to introduce you to them.

Mikasa Ackerman and Eren Jaeger.

It was he, Eren, who glared at you with the contempt that you were expecting from Armin. However, you were surprised to notice that the hatred wasn't directed at you, but at the circumstances. He told you to stand up then, to move on - the fault was not yours but in the titans. In the fear that the government had instilled upon them, and in the resources that had been lost to their invasion. He had told you then to fight and maybe the old you would have stirred at his words but now…

You supposed you had been coddled by ignorance, had grown soft, but you weren't regretful of that. In another life you would have been invigorated by his flames, but having a chance to grow up innocent and happy - you were grateful for that opportunity. And bitter that it had been stripped away. You wished you could find purpose in your losses like Eren, but - you couldn't. It was too soon.

Armin's hand squeezed over yours once more, forcing you to choke back another sob. Your sister had been your anchor beyond those walls, bringing you back to reality, and now - someone had somehow replaced her role already. You shrinked back from the younger boy's hold, excusing yourself for a new place of solace. Fortunately, Armin respected your need for space and didn't follow.

The next time you see the iconic trio again, you had withered more into the sunken cheeks of self-neglect and mourning. Looking at them from the shadows of an awning, showered in sunlight, further solidified your place in this new world once more. You were no longer in a fever dream, long past the immunity of hope, and realized that to continue on living here - was to move on and - and do what?

You had a good memory. The Old World wasn't some blurry echo of television scenes, but a clear movie of experiences you could easily filter through as needed. Events were stark in your head - knowledge a precarious thing you cradled closely to your chest - as long as no one inquired about specific details, the color of someone's hair, the placement of an old book, you would have been able to tell them the history as recounted by your textbooks, plots as written by the various novels and shows you had consumed, and the churning feeling of how nothing ever felt enough back then. And now.

You supposed nothing would ever be enough.

However, the only thing holding back your memory of this anime - this new world, was the rest of the plot. You had been one of the initial viewers who fell off the bandwagon during the prolonged hiatuses and were not able to pull any information beyond the first season. Which was damning in all its rights because you had glimpsed enough spoilers to know that only more carnage and death lay in the future.

Could you die again?

Could you complacently accept the end again?

You had been saved from death's clutches twice already, but luck and fortune were not your friends. Never had been, and rarely would they be.

If you stuck with Armin and his friends, would you be granted some armor against imminent death? Or would you just put yourself at a higher risk of dying?

Your untrimmed nails drew blood from your clenched fists, drawing your attention back to the trio in front of you. So many possibilities, so many options..

But for what?

You had essentially lost everything, hadn't you? Your sister was dead, your parents - you didn't even know where they were or if they would even look at you again after what had happened. You wouldn't blame them if they had wished for your younger sibling than yourself. She had always been more vibrant than you.

Belatedly, you realized someone was calling your name again and looked up to see blue eyes once more.

"H-how's everything?" Eren and Mikasa had hung back, trying to look as distracted as possible to provide you two some semblance of privacy. You looked down at Armin, frowning at how a younger child could have more fortitude than you.

You looked off to the side. "Fine." The lie should have ended the conversation, but Armin had seen something in you already and pushed on. He mentioned more rations being dispersed at a site further in the compound, (blatantly, he avoided mentioning the reason why - the cull had been successful, it appeared), and invited you to come over.

"I don't know what you've been through," the lilt in his voice was toning down. "But my grandpa," he paused, as if wondering whether he should use that ultimatum that you both somehow knew you wouldn't ignore. "- he saw something in you." He died for you. "So please, come eat with us." Don't let his death be in vain.

You sighed, which signaled to Armin that you would listen to him. He tentatively smiled and reached for both your fists, uncurling them and pulling them towards his friends. They had long given up the pretense of not eavesdropping, Eren more blatant than Mikasa, but they regarded your intrusion with equally guarded eyes; the latter more than the former.

Eren was as brash as all the main protagonists were and openly voiced his suspicions of you.

Mikasa had shoved an elbow into him then, and perhaps you would have cracked a grin but you only remained silent as Armin pacified him.

Your days were often like this, spent in the shadows of the trio. You marveled at the fire they kindled amongst themselves to plow through this world and wondered if one day, you would be able to contribute. As of you now, you were just a visitor basking in its charitable warmth, but perhaps one day…

You shook your head. So many what if's had overtaken your brain, but no action or plan had been born out of any of them. If it hadn't been for Armin, you would have succumbed to your losses and entrapped yourself in the pits of starvation and depression. You had seen bodies like that around the complex, breathing but not really there; cheeks and bones highlighted from self-inflicted famine. You had seen yourself in their cold bones, and were tempted to join their reclusive pile, but Armin had taken one look at you then and fervently dragged you away.

Ultimately, it had been for naught.

Once the repercussions of the cull were fully felt and worked through by the legislation, the Military Police had begun its rampage among the barracks. They separated families where age denounced one member as unfit for hard duty, and shuffled undocumented individuals towards gun barrels. More death, more loss - more food, more space. Two sides of the same coin.

You stared at the police that had corralled your group into the courtyard. In actuality, they had only wanted you, but Armin's protests had earned Eren's own obscene protests and Mikasa's smoldering protection. These children who you had barely attempted to befriend..

You chided their actions quietly, much to Armin and Eren's chagrin and met the Military Police with your vacant eyes. If they wanted you, if no one had truly claimed you out there…

Again, your sister's face flashed in your head; Grandpa Arlet's beseeching smile…

And from a different world, a deafening conclusion delivered by dispassionate voices.

You had always aspired for more in your previous world, adapted to the blows and rejections that came your way. But when met with a certain, inevitable finality - both here and back then, your fiery spirit had always dissipated. In the end, you always had more dreams than accomplishments.

You cursed.

Armin and the others widened their eyes at your reprimand as the police narrowed theirs.

You could have always been better.

You had to stop living in the possibilités.

You looked back at the man in front of you and announced your name and your probable living relations. Perhaps your parents had documented your and your sister's status as one of the missing. Perhaps they had thrown a small caution of hope into the implausible and had a place waiting for you to fill on one of those long lists of missing people. Perhaps they hadn't buried you yet…

"You're really going to kill a kid?" You hardly had the stature of one, realizing that with the continued support of Armin and increasing availability of food you were beginning to fill out your lanky limbs - but pleading on the side of compassion and humanity never hurt anyone.

Unfortunately, the Military Police were just as cold and unfeeling as you had been moments ago. They ushered you into the role of tending to the farms with Armin and the others, but promised that they would return once they had checked all the records.

"-and we will check," Eren rolled his eyes that night as you three munched over the dinner's ration. As expected of him, he was ruminating and mimicking the afternoon's encounter with the guards. He eyed you. Of the three, he was the one whose trust you had the least. Initially, you thought it would be Mikasa that would be the hardest to get along with, but it had been Eren instead.

You couldn't blame him.

You were hardly making any attempts to be friends at all. But something in his poorly concealed glances told you there was something more contributing to his distrust. You didn't dwell on it too much.

"What are you planning?" he asked.

You cocked your head to the side in question and he waved a careless hand in the air; Mikasa skillfully ducking under his blind movements. "We're joining the Training Corps next year." His announcement declared, he stared at you, as if waiting for one of either polar reactions, but having known this beforehand already you could only nod.

The Training Corps and then the Survey Corps. The cursed Wings of Freedom.

Would you join them as well? Did you have a choice?

You always had a choice, but now, faced with finally accepting your decision - you faltered.

You had died once already. Pathetically, in your opinion. But this time…

You didn't want to wait for imminent death again. You didn't want to helplessly watch an old man beat at the grave's door with a broken shovel. You didn't want to see a loved one go unprotected again. You didn't want to be helpless in the face of death. You would fight this time.

You already made the first step towards that path when you refuted the police..

Armin sadly smiled as he saw the resolve take place in your eyes. He broke off a piece of his rationed bread, reasoning that you needed more weight to become a soldier. Across from him, Mikasa further hid her face into her scarf as Eren grinned at your quiet resolution.

"We'll show them."