The cabin feels unusually tense.
Today's the day of the operation. Around me, recruits scurry about, gathering their gear, while others line up for what might be their last shower. I'm seated on the edge of my bed, my only worry at the moment is whether my hair will remain intact as Petra, with more haste than necessary, attempts to fashion it into a crown braid. Her hands fumble more than once.
"You're doing it again," I note.
"Sorry, I'm just..." Petra's voice trails off, but when her eyes meet mine in the mirror, they speak volumes.
"You're worried," I state flatly.
"Aren't you?" Petra pauses, the braid half-finished. "You were in Shiganshina; you've seen it. The way they eat people."
I notice her hands trembling slightly as she tries to focus on the task. "How many times do I have to tell you?" I stare at her sharply. "You've trained for this. You're ready."
"But not everyone is," Petra says quietly. "I keep thinking about all those who won't make it back."
I scoff lightly, thinking of the complaints I'd received from the warriors concerning the work conditions. Soon enough, I'd pull them out of there, one way or another. "Trust me, the government's doing them a favor. Anything is better than being exploited and underfed in those fields. Even death."
Petra's face falls. "How can you even say that?" I catch a glimpse of judgment in her eyes. "At least they're surviving. Isn't that enough?"
"Surviving isn't living. Especially not under those circumstances. You're not living a life that's yours if other bastards are pulling the strings," I reply, doubting I'm in any right to talk about serving a government that doesn't give a damn about me. Then again, I'd rather aid the devil I know than the one I don't. I've seen enough to assert that a nation can oppress anyone to survive. Even its own people.
She resumes the braid, though her hands are steadier now. "You always have a way of seeing things so... differently, Isla," she comments, though she doesn't know the half of it. But it's Petra. I could voice out a plan to murder someone, and the worst she'd do is scold me, then return to giggling over guys whose names I can't recall.
Petra finishes the hairstyle, her fingers lingering for a moment on my shoulder. "Tada!" She beams, admiring her handiwork. "Now, let me just go grab something, and then we're good to go!" She bolts toward the bathroom, and I know what "grabbing something" stands for in Petra's language.
I'm about to check on her when Oruo barges in, his right hand covering his eyes, the other arm extended like a blind man navigating unfamiliar terrain. "Heads up, anyone naked, sound the alarm now!" he declares.
"Bet you wouldn't give any heads-up if Petra wasn't sharing a room," I toss over my shoulder as I pick up my gear.
His reaction is immediate. His hand drops from his eyes, and he spins around to retort but is stopped short by Gunther behind him. "Are you incapable of following a simple task?" He turns to me. "Come on, Captain Levi sent this fool to get you two. We're leaving," he surveys the room, "Where's the redhead?"
The bathroom bursts open. "I'm here!" Petra exclaims before wiping her mouth and dragging me up with her other hand. "Don't look at me like that, I wasn't throwing up," she mutters.
I casually shrug as I follow my new unit. "Your words, not mine."
Counting down the amount of soldiers present feels like counting the stars in the sky. Before me, a sea of bodies stretches out, each individual mounted on horseback, forming an unbroken chain that spans the horizon along Wall Rose. A staggering twenty percent of this civilization think they'll return to a welcome home after successfully retaking Maria.
An hour of riding passes without encountering any titans, and for some reason, I'd rather that they stop hiding anytime now so I can stop stressing about keeping my guard up through the incessant chatter around me.
"Still not a titan in sight," Oruo grumbles beside me.
Eld furrows a brow. "Is that supposed to be a complaint?"
"He's that eager to be titan breakfast," Gunther snorts.
"He's not wrong to complain," I find myself siding with Oruo for a change. "It's more alarming that none of the bastards showed up yet."
The unit comprising us is nestled at the heart of the crowd. Technically, it plays in our favor. If any threat surfaces, we'd be the last people it'd reach.
I can't even call this mess a formation. The commander was right.
"We're nearing the forest," Levi's voice cuts through. I hadn't spoken to him since that disagreement. Considering how overly tense he is, I can tell his attitude toward the responsibility he bears over our survival hasn't changed.
Don't come crying to me when your friends are lying dead on the ground.
No. They won't die. And I don't cry.
"Finally! Some action," Oruo grins at the thought of months of training coming to fruition.
"No."
Our attentions collectively pivot to the captain.
"You're not here to pick fights," he instructs bluntly. "That's your first order. When we get there, you stay hidden in the trees. Don't engage unless absolutely necessary. Let the main force deal with them."
"But.." I gawk at his back. "We're the main force." We're the ones who were extensively trained for a year, who were taught how to kill, how to survive. Not those conscripted refugees. We're needed. They're not. And then, his words sink in. "Oh."
"Yeah," his jaw clenches, and something tells me this wasn't his plan. "Oh."
"Wait, you mean we're just going to sit back while everyone else..." Oruo's voice fades as well as any enthusiasm previously etched on his face as he grasps what's coming. I knew the majority didn't stand a chance. But the thought of leveraging their deaths to survive went over my head. I have to give it to him. Erwin is smart. Ruthless but smart.
"Captain, with all due respect, we are the most experienced out here. These people—" Petra's protest dies in her throat.
"Petra," my hands tighten around the reins, "They're already done for."
The fate of most is sealed, with or without our help. Still, the idea of standing by while others lay down their lives in a battle they cannot hope to win feels like a betrayal of everything we've been trained for. Survival is a privilege that is earned, not handed. I don't care about any of these people, yet what I'm preparing myself for is forming knots in my stomach.
If that's the only way to guarantee our team's survival, so be it.
"And what about after? When there's no one left to use as a shield? What do we do then?", Gunther asks on everyone's behalf.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, as soon as we're in, switch to ODM gear, and don't come down." Levi responds.
"And you?" The question slips out. "Where will you be?"
"On the front lines," he shoots over his shoulder. "If there happen to be any survivors, we can't have them spread the word that I didn't fight alongside them," he explains.
Humanity's strongest not being in the field would definitely raise questions and paint a tarnished picture of the scouts. But still.
I grip the bridge of my nose, desperate to rid myself of the growing headache when the conversation only fades in the background as the unit asks Levi for more directives.
Since when has their survival started to matter to me? When did I stop referring to them as devils? Their existence threatens the world, and yet I'm still here praying they get to see the next dusk. Now, I've gone as far as hating the idea of being rid of the biggest threat, the one person who could drive a blade through my heart should he find out the truth.
A hand placed on my shoulder snaps me out of my thoughts. "Isla," Petra's voice resonates. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." I swallow.
"I get it, you know. I'm scared too, we'll make it through." She leans closer. "You can talk to me."
"I'm fine," I snap harshly, immediately regretting the loss of composure I've rarely experienced before. Then, all heads suddenly whip to the right, the sound of screams too loud to ignore.
In the distance, mounted soldiers fall off their horses like dominoes in a straight line. My eyes slowly lift toward the source. And there I see it. The titans have finally decided to show up.
"What is that thing?!" Oruo chokes out next to me.
"If you paid attention in class, you'd know," I retort, my focus still on the horrifying sight before us.
A 20-meter abnormal barrels through the ranks of people at a horrifying speed. Each step it takes sends bodies flying, horses and humans alike. But it's not alone. Other titans follow from every direction, each contributing to a unique horde of screams now blending together. Some grab soldiers straight off their horses, biting down with crunches I'm thankfully too far to hear.
I turn to Levi, but he's not yelling out any orders. He stands perfectly still, his palm outstretched as a drop of rain hits it. I look up in disbelief at our luck. It's like the universe is laughing at us. When I look back at his face, shock is etched all over it.
"Look out!" Petra yells, her voice barely audible over the din of panic.
Oruo curses loudly, "Where did those shits come from?!"
Eld's voice is tight with urgency, "Doesn't matter, we need to—"
But his words are cut off as a surge of soldiers pushes through our ranks. They're yelling, pleading, "Move! Let us through!"
In the confusion, Petra's grip slips from my arm. "Petra!" I shout, trying to reach for her, but she's swallowed up by the crowd.
Gunther tries to rally us, "Form up! We can't get separated!"
It's too late. The relentless rush of bodies tears our unit apart before we know it. I'm shoved forward, then to the side, as everyone scrambles for safety, their survival instincts kicking into overdrive.
I fight against the tide, trying to spot any familiar face.
From somewhere to my left, I catch a snippet of Eld's shout, "...Find us!" but it's carried away on the wind.
The forest is close, but there's no way for them to reach it on horseback with the crowd completely still, either waiting to get crushed or preparing for a fight. I grab the opportunity at hand and make a split-second decision. Dismounting feels like stepping off a cliff into an abyss, but I know it's the only way to navigate through the panicked mass and find them. "Stay," I whisper to my horse.
Struggling to keep my footing, I push against the flow, but it's like battling a river's current. I do my best not to glance up at the soldiers sent flying to their deaths or grabbed off their horses to end up as titan fodder. They're getting close.
I finally spot them—Petra, Oruo, Eld, and Gunther, huddled together. Petra acts quickly, pulling me onto her horse with a force that nearly knocks the wind out of me. The others are cramped on another horse, looking equally disheveled. It seems I wasn't the only one thinking on my feet; the horses had become a liability.
"Where's Levi? Captain Levi?" I gasp, scanning the chaos for any sign of him.
Eld shakes his head. "No idea. We're so fucked."
I look around, desperation clawing at my insides. The open field offers no cover, no strategic advantage. We're exposed, vulnerable. The realization hits like a punch to the gut—there's no way through this. Not with the horses, not on foot.
Petra, her face pale, looks around wildly. "We can't stay here. We need to move!"
"Look around. It's an open field. There's nowhere to run, and with the crowd like this, we can't even use our gear properly," Eld points out the glaring problem.
"So, what's the plan? We can't just stand here and wait to be picked off," Oruo rebukes.
"We can fight our way out," Petra suggests, though she's aware of the odds herself.
"Have you seen how many there are?" Gunther spits. "These useless refugees aren't doing anything except cry, and without Captain Levi, we're all fucked."
"Listen," I intervene, my voice quiet but intense enough to silence them. "We can't pass through with the horses, and running is a death sentence." My throat twists in knots. "We... we use them. The refugees."
Silence falls, heavy and condemning.
"Uh—" Oruo is the first to break it. "She's joking. She does that a lot."
"No, she's not," Petra affirms, knowing me too well to detect any bluff.
The idea turns my stomach upside down, but the alternative is much worse.
"What?" Gunther finally explodes, his gaze a mixture of disbelief and horror. "You've lost your damn mind!"
Petra's eyes glisten with tears. "You want us to use them as... as what? Sacrifices?"
"Fuck this, we are not sacrificing them," I snap, anger flaring. "They're already dead, and you guys know it! I'm saying we use the situation as originally planned. The ODM gear needs anchors, and there's nothing else out here. It's that, or we stand here and die with them!"
They all look at me as if I've morphed into the very monsters we're running from. A devil. It seems that wherever I go, Marley or Paradis, that reputation clings to me.
I can't bring myself to make eye contact.
"It's our only chance," I manage, desperation lending force to my words. "You can't always choose the morally right course of action and expect to survive. You can't have both. Make a choice."
Oruo swallows hard. "This is messed up, Isla. Really messed up."
"She's right," Eld's face hardens. "This is our only chance."
No one else speaks, but their eyes acknowledge the truth in what I'm saying. But we don't have time to wait for them to be okay with it because truth be told, they may never be.
"Okay," I say, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "Cloaks up. Don't look down and expose your face to anyone in case they happen to survive."
They slowly nod and do as I say before waiting for me to act, a direct hint that I'm in charge.
One by one, we launch into the air, the mechanical whirr barely audible over the cacophony of screams. The first launch is the hardest. The sharp metal finds its mark, and the screams of pain are drowned out. I propel myself forward, trying to focus on the trees ahead, the designated meeting point. Each pull rips out their flesh, forcing them down as we're forced up in the air.
Don't look down. Don't look down.
Petra reaches me first, her eyes avoiding mine. Oruo follows while Eld and Gunther land next to us.
I look at each of my team members as my back hits the trunk in exhaustion, settling for a seated position. They do the same.
No words are spoken; none are needed. And in the quiet of the forest, surrounded by only the remnants of my conscience, I remember each hook I launched hitting two people each of the seven times.
I've killed 14 people today, trading their lives for another breath.
And I don't regret any of it.
Time blurs.
Before I realize it, the quiet symphony of snores from my friends fills the air. Everything around me had slowed, the adrenaline of earlier giving way to a bone-deep tiredness. But it doesn't stop me from perceiving the rustle behind me. In one fluid motion, I'm on my feet, blade drawn and ready as I pin the intruder to the trunk with the blade positioned at their throat.
The standoff lasts only a heartbeat.
"Where the hell were you?" I breathe out. Carefully, I lower the blade, stepping back to give him space.
"The fight ended two hours ago," Levi informs me calmly. "I was looking for you."
Bullshit. He would've found us in less than ten minutes.
Our eyes lock. "How many badges did you collect?"
He looks me over. "I'm glad you're okay."
My body stiffens as he makes that comment, "How many badges did you collect?" I reiterate my question.
"You should be asking me how many I didn't collect," he bites the inside of his cheek. "From what I've counted, there are around 122 survivors including you. As for the badges, I stopped at 56. My pocket doesn't have unlimited space."
My eyes flicker as I count in my head. 122 out of... 250,000 refugees. "I see."
The instant I see the hurt in his eyes, my words fall out before I even realize it. "I'm sorry."
He scans my face. "You survived. It's all that matters."
I frown. "If I were to tell you how, you wouldn't be so proud."
"You don't have to. I've seen enough."
I let out a breath.
Of course. He's been walking through the aftermath in the past hours. The marks on the bodies must've stood out. I reluctantly make eye contact with him. There is no judgment in his expression. No anger nor resentment. It's disarming, the way his eyes offer a mirror as if I'm seeing my reflection and it isn't marred by the horrors I've committed.
Seconds pass but that's more than enough to make the eye contact feel like too long. "Wake the others," he breaks it. "We're heading back."
We are now back within the safety of the walls.
That failure of a mission didn't only test my limits but also solidified my place within the ranks of the Survey Corps. Recognition of my skills came in a form I hadn't anticipated—I am now a full-fledged member of Levi's squad, marking the first time he's assembled a squad since being promoted to Captain by Erwin.
They call us the Special Operations Squad.
The aftermath, however, transported us all to a different kind of battlefield. Conversations have been sparse since we got back and moved to a new base of operations in Trost District unless it was to discuss regiment-related matters and get sent off to sleep by Erwin's long speeches because that's apparently a thing too now.
Meetings.
Even though no one's really talking about it, I can tell everyone is struggling with the mission's fallout, trying to make sense of it all. The only person taking it all in quite easily in comparison to everyone else is Eld, which leads me to a chessboard, facing him as my opponent.
"You're getting better," Eld comments.
"This game's shit," I remark as I move my knight.
With a confident gesture, he moves his bishop, cornering my king. "You're shit. Check."
Just as I'm about to let out an annoyed sigh, the door to the lounge swings open. A messenger, breathless from haste, steps inside, scanning the room until his eyes land on me.
"Isla Hart," he announces, holding out a sealed envelope. "This is for you."
I push myself up from my seat to shut myself inside my room and unfold it.
"We are enrolling in the 104th training corps. -Annie"