Towards That Scenery
Chapter One
Eren watched the bald, grim-faced instructor stalk away from his latest victim's crumpled form. Yellow sick dirtied the ground where the cadet had puked it up after one Keith Shadis saw fit to bury his fist in their stomach. As they struggled back to their feet, their face showed a look of utmost regret. It declared their intention to drop out for all to see.
Eren approved. Nobody wanted to be seen as a coward, but to enlist with that as your only reason? And to admit as much openly?
No. Someone like that would only be a hinderance down the line. Better that the idiot be carted off to pick stones and scatter shit across the fields in the wastelands.
"And?" the instructor barked, ceasing his prowl to home in on a new cadet. "Who the hell are you?"
It was Armin's turn, then. Eren wondered what he would say.
Armin stood ramrod straight and slammed his fist against his chest. "Armin Arlert! From Shiganshina, Sir!"
Instructor Shadis sneered and leaned in.
Something about the way he loomed over Armin set his teeth on edge, the man seeming all the larger against his friend's petite form.
"What alliteration-loving dipshit chose your name, Cadet? Your father?"
"My grandfather, Sir!"
"And tell me, Arlert, why are you here?"
"Sir! To protect humanity, Sir!"
Eren's lips thinned.
"That's a good answer," Instructor Shadis said. "As titan bait, you should be of at least some use. Rejoice, Arlert!"
"Sir! Thank you, Sir!"
With that, the instructor ordered the third line of cadets to perform an about-face and began hunting for his next victim.
Armin turned.
Eren looked sharply away before their eyes could meet.
Shadis swiveled mid-step and made a stomping beeline for him.
Apparently, his little distraction had not gone unnoticed.
By now Eren had a good idea of the kind of reprimand he was likely to receive. His pulse sped.
"Well, well," Shadis rumbled, looming over him from close enough that Eren could smell his oniony breath, "aren't you a carefree little shit! Tell me, Cadet, which part of 'Keep your eyes straight' did you not understand?"
"Sir—"
"Shut your mouth. It's obvious by that insolent look in your eye. You aren't mentally deficient, you're just too good for my orders. Isn't that right?"
"Sir, no, Sir!"
A white flash of pain blossomed into existence in the center of Eren's forehead. It was accompanied by an oozing rivulet which snaked hotly down his face, splitting at his nose to decorate his mouth in vertical carmine streaks. He staggered with the blow and only just kept his feet.
"Are you correcting me?"
"No," he seethed, the taste of his punishment seeping past his lips.
"No what?"
"No, Sir!"
"What is your name, Cadet?"
"Eren Yeager, Sir! From Shiganshina!"
"...Yeager, huh. And? Why are you here?"
A drop of fresh blood fell from his eyebrow, staining the sclera in his right eye a volatile red as it diffused like paint from an artist's brush.
"Sir. To kill my enemies, Sir."
Instructor Shadis studied him for a long moment, then, without a word to indicate what he thought of his answer, turned and strode away.
Eren returned shaky hands to the small of his back and drew in long, centering breaths, doing his best to ignore the coppery stench of his blood on the crisp January air.
Quit it he thought, flashing a hidden look at Armin whose vibrant blues burned into him with naked worry, mentally commanding him to face forward lest he taste the same punishment. You know this isn't enough to hurt me.
He couldn't imagine Mikasa continuing to behave if she had to watch one of them get brained for a second time. They were lucky that annoyingly protective girl had shown such restraint to this point.
Whether at his silent behest or because he'd reached the same conclusions, Armin obeyed and trained his eyes forward.
"What about you?" Instructor Shadis hollered from two rows over, drawing Eren's attention. "Who the hell are you and why are you standing in front of me?"
The cadet before Shadis now was taller than average, with a long but not ugly face and fussily-cut brown hair that was short at the sides and longer on top.
"Jean Kirstein, from Trost District, Sir! I enlisted to join the Military Police and live behind Wall Sina, Sir!"
Eren's attention sharpened. He repeated the name in his head. Jean Kirstein. The MP wannabe, from Trost.
A familiar thunk sounded and the cadet was sent crumpling to the ground, a fellow victim of the instructor's rock-hard skull. He writhed in the dirt, kicking up small puffs of dust with each pained gasp.
"A worm who can't even handle that has less than no chance of making it into the Military Police. Get up or give up, Cadet!"
With that Instructor Shadis stalked off, not lingering to watch as Jean slowly reclaimed his feet. He shot a dark scowl Eren's way as he did so.
Eren watched from the corner of his eye. As much as he wanted to return it with a look that showed his own contempt, he had more important things to focus on, namely the other cadets and their responses to Instructor Shadis' questions.
There was Marco Bott, a naïve kid with a kind and freckled face who wanted to 'devote himself to the king', of all things. Next was the buzz-cut Connie Springer who didn't even get to talk before his punishment started, incurring Shadis' wrath with a faulty salute.
Eren thought it would be impossible to leave a worse first impression and was swiftly proven wrong by a brunette girl with a pony tail.
Sasha Braus proved to be a girl who could eat food she herself admitted was stolen right in the face of a military officer, right in the middle of an official ceremony, all without an ounce of guilt, fear, or basic common sense to be found. He couldn't tell if she was a supreme idiot or merely insane, and mentally labeled her an insane idiot just to be safe.
The bizarre interaction between cadet and instructor ended with her being ordered to run laps till she collapsed and to have her dinner withheld for the night. By the look in her eye as the second half of her punishment was doled out, one might have thought she'd been sentenced to hang.
From there it was largely more of the same: Instructor Shadis would stop before a cadet, ask their name and motive for joining, berate and or strike them, then move on to repeat the process all over again.
Eren tried to keep track of everyone's answers, but with the sheer number of cadets present found it impossible.
Still, a few stood out.
The rare cadets the instructor passed by without comment, of whom Mikasa was included. The serious-faced Reiner Braun, who grimly declared his intention to save the world. A cutesy blonde girl who drew so much attention she got three other cadets in trouble for gawking. These and a couple more he managed to commit to memory. The rest he entrusted to Armin and Mikasa.
Eventually the Induction Ceremony reached its end, and after a few hours of drilling they were all released for supper, minus Sasha—or 'Potato Girl', as she'd already been dubbed by some of the other cadets.
Eren made for the washroom, intent on finally rinsing the grisly mess that was his face, sick of the tacky filth sticking to his skin and gumming up his hair.
Before he managed more than a couple steps he was seized by a vice wrapping itself around his upper arm.
He winced in the hold and spoke without looking back.
"Let go, Mikasa. I'm fine."
The grip tightened.
Eren turned with a quiet sigh. And he'd done such a good job avoiding her these past few hours.
The murderous gleam in her steely grey eyes was made all the more intimidating for being framed within the shadows of her unique, inky black hair.
"He'll pay for this."
Low and dull, it was hard for Eren to tell by her tone how serious she was.
He searched for the words that would mollify his... adopted sister? Childhood friend? Coconspirator? These days you could add 'self-appointed mother' to the list of categories Eren thought Mikasa might slot into, on those rare occasions he bothered to think about it at all.
Mikasa was Mikasa and sorting her beyond that got more annoying each time he revisited the subject.
"Mikasa," a new voice chimed in. "You really shouldn't say that, especially not where someone else might hear you."
Eren flashed a relieved look at Armin as he approached from the other side. He was by far the best talker among them. He'd make her see sense.
Rather than Mikasa, his blonde friend's next words were directed at him.
"We should take you to the medic though, Eren. You need to have that cut treated."
Eren probed the slice on his forehead with a finger. His brow furrowed.
"This? It's fine. I just want to go wash up already. Besides," he grunted, finally yanking his arm free from Mikasa's grasp, "we've got a bigger problem right here. Say you were kidding, Mikasa."
"He hurt you," she explained patiently.
Eren pled with his eyes for Armin's help.
"Don't look at me! It's your fault for gawking and getting head-butted in the first place. You convince her."
Mikasa showed them both a dry look, apparently unpleased at being talked around.
Eren hoped the fact that she could get annoyed with them in the first place meant she wasn't as serious as she sounded.
"Now for real Eren, let's get you to the medic. That's more of a gash than a cut you have there. It sticks out."
"Armin, it's fine—"
"No," he said deliberately, an odd pleading tightness in the corners of his eyes. "It isn't. A laceration of that size and depth will take two to four weeks before it's totally healed. Okay?"
Ah. Eren understood now.
He opened his mouth to articulate as much.
The words choked in his throat.
Something cold twitched near the base of his skull.
The sun fell from the sky, plunging him into the depths of a moonless, starless night, the sky of which was nevertheless alit by endless branching bands of ethereal light, which shone hauntingly down upon the pale and featureless expanse below.
He tried desperately to look around, but before he could so much as twitch his eye his vision swam and everything blurred to a haze of pure indistinction, within which the whole of the world reorganized itself in a mad swirl of light and motion and color until finally he was returned to a state of being capable of description.
In the instant before an explosion of excruciating, stabbing pain ripped through his chest, Eren registered the familiar dark alleyway in which he now stood.
Then a bullet blasted bits of his heart out his back, and the screaming began.
He slid a trembling hand up the thin fabric of his shirt with great calmness, dimly aware of the gristly, thudding squelch which sounded again and again from farther down the alley. He found the bullet hole waiting where his heart ought to be and slipped a curious finger deep inside.
It was warm and beating.
Sobbing distracted him. He looked to its origin and found Armin laying prone atop filthy cobblestones, reaching towards him with an outstretched hand, his nose smashed and broken, a river of tears flowing down his face as he screamed his name.
His calm became a drop of water in a scalding hot pan. He staggered back, crashing into a brick wall, looking around for Mikasa in a dazed panic and finding her shivering beside a queer lump at the back of the alley, the usual shagginess gone from her hair which clung now to her ashen face, matted slick with someone else's splatter. A horrible, broken look shone in her eye as she turned to face him, clutching in one hand the pocket knife Armin's grandpa had left behind, its handle splintered and its blade coated in drippy black redness.
He opened his mouth to apologize.
The sun rose. His shredded heart mended. The world fell out of focus and reoriented itself once more into the Training Corps Drilling Yard. The pain in his chest dulled, becoming phantasmal.
"Eren?" Armin asked, stepping closer. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he said, burying his hands deep in his pockets to hide their shaking.
"Eren," Mikasa whispered, "you're crying."
He swiped quickly with his sleeve.
"... I Tripped," he admitted, wincing against their horrified expressions. "But it's okay. I'm fine."
"Eren," Mikasa ached.
"I said I'm fine. Let's just... go see the medic, okay?"
His words started forceful, but quickly softened after they made his friends wince.
"Okay," Armin agreed quietly.
Mikasa chewed her lip, then acquiesced with a nod.
Eren said nothing when the two of them shared a quick, fraught look with each other, nor did he protest as they steered him away, Mikasa with her arm around his waist and Armin close by his side.
Drained, hollow, he let them lead, feeling like one of those winter squashes he and Mikasa used to scrape clean as they helped his mom prepare pies for the solstice.
His grip on Mikasa's shoulder tightened. What he wouldn't do to taste one of those, just one more time.
Twenty minutes later the three of them finally joined their cohort in the mess hall, he now with a clean face, a changed shirt, and a series of bandages wrapped around his forehead.
They attached to what remained of the dinner line and secured meals of dark brown stew and loaved bread, the salty, herby scents of which had Eren's mouth watering in short order.
Finding seats proved to be a pain as none of the benches spread around the mess hall had more than one or two spaces open. Splitting up was the obvious solution, but one Mikasa and Armin both shot down when he brought it up.
Damn hungry and sick of being coddled, Eren was about to walk off anyway when that freckled guy from earlier waved them over, neatly making space for them at his bench with some gentle prodding.
"Thanks," Eren mumbled as he slid into the seat, a little embarrassed to have had their dithering noticed.
Armin and Mikasa automatically bookending him didn't help the feeling.
"You're welcome," the boy said, kindly. He nodded at Eren's bandaged forehead. "I figured you'd be late getting that taken care of. It was kind of scary, watching you march around looking like that." He smiled at Armin and Mikasa. "You guys helped him to the medic, I'm guessing."
"Yes... though it's more like we were making sure he actually went," Armin admitted.
"I don't need babysitting," Eren grumbled, and jammed a spoonful of dark broth in his mouth. It was oily and a bit thin but nice and hot and salty. It soaked easily into the bread and worked wonders on his empty stomach.
Marco smiled. "I'm relieved. To tell you the truth, I've been a bit nervous, since I heard people here can sometimes be cruel. Seeing you all watch out for each other made me happy. I'm Marco, by the way. Marco Bott. From Jiane Village, not too far from here. These guys," he gestured around the table, "are mostly locals too."
There was a short-haired blonde guy who introduced himself as Thomas Wagner, the buzz cut kid who'd given a bad salute—Connie Springer—as well as two others: a dark-haired girl named Pieck Finger and, most notably, the long-faced Jean Kirstein.
The MP wannabe.
Eren hadn't forgotten that scowl he'd shown either, and didn't bother keeping his thoughts off his face.
By the tensing in the taller teen's jaw, his feelings did not go unnoticed.
Armin bumped him beneath the table.
"I'm Eren," he said, directing his attention back to Marco for now. "These are my friends, Armin and Mikasa."
"Nice to meet you," Armin said with a polite smile.
Mikasa just nodded.
The girl, Pieck, pushed some bits of potato around in her soup. "Earlier, did you say you were from..." She trailed off, staring down at her uneaten supper.
Eren's face tightened. "Yeah. Shiganshina. All three of us."
"Woah!" went Connie and Thomas in unison, drawing the attention of cadets from the surrounding tables.
"Shiganshina!" Connie said, leaning closer. "But then, does that mean?"
Thomas completed the thought. "Were you all, you know, there? That day?"
The words repeated in his head. That day. That day. That day.
Though he had learned there was no such thing as being ready, when it happened this time, Eren was at least expecting it.
The chilled twitch.
That otherworldly scenery.
Reality's reorientation.
Suddenly he was there, back two years in the past, watching it unfold all over again in real time with equal awareness as he'd possessed in the mess hall.
The events took place precisely as he remembered them. From start to finish, incapable of changing even the smallest detail, trapped here in his head Eren was forced to again witness that day.
The skinless face formed in bands and bundles of red fibers, looking down on them with a lipless grin the size of his childhood home, kicking open an unhealable wound.
Them. The titans. The dumb, monstrous glee etched on their faces. The way they bumbled in and slaughtered the city that raised him, brutalizing people he'd known all his life, tearing them to pieces along invisible human lines. Sometimes swallowing them whole, sometimes masticating them into a fine pulp. Spilling their blood and their gore across cobbles he'd raced down with Armin and Mikasa a hundred times before.
His mother's screams, so, so unlike the shouts and laughs he was always hearing from her, sharp and wailing and stuck so deep in his head he knew in the marrow of his bones that the day when he could forget them would never come.
Hannes' death gurgles.
The sight of Mikasa bleeding and bleeding and bleeding from her belly.
The way she looked at him as she told him to leave her behind.
The way she looked at him when he refused.
Death's stench clinging to that titan as it tore into him. The pain of first his skin, then his flesh and sinew, and finally his bones all shattering and shearing as the better half of his hand was ripped off and eaten in front of him.
Running and hiding and watching and feeling everything again; the fear and the agony and the anguish, but more than any of those the black, boiling hatred which sludged thickly through his veins to saturate every fiber of his being...
The unreality melted away.
There were godly streaks in the sky and a cold wriggling in the back of his neck.
Then he was in the mess hall once again.
His breaths came fast and shallow as his heart pounded in his ears. He slammed the palm of his hand against his lips as the acrid taste of bile rose to the back of his tongue. Stinging in the corners of his eyes alerted him to the unshed tears clinging there. They threatened to spill over when finally he noticed the many gaping faces of the cadets staring at him.
He swiped furiously with his shirtsleeve and stared down at his supper, willing his body to calm.
Beneath the table, Mikasa placed her hand on his knee. It was warm and reassuring.
He pushed it away.
"Yes," Armin mumbled.
Eren tried to recall what he was talking about.
"Then, you saw them?" Thomas asked, sounding apprehensive.
"I got out with my family right away... I was lucky. The only ones I saw were the Colossal and the Armored Titans."
Was that what they'd been talking about? The titans?
"What were they like?"
Armin fidgeted. "The Colossal Titan was big enough to look over Wall Maria. It... didn't have any skin."
Connie's eyebrows climbed up his face. "You mean someone cut it off?"
"It wasn't bleeding. I think that's just the way it looks."
"And the Armored Titan?"
"I was already on a boat in the canal. It was too far away to tell. All I saw was it smash through the gate."
"Holy shit, man. That's..." Connie trailed off.
"So none of you saw them?" Thomas asked. "The, uh, regular ones?"
"Well..." Armin hedged, glancing his way. "That isn't—"
"We didn't make it out till the last boat," Eren said. "Me and Mikasa. We saw them."
Those listening were quiet.
Marco, Pieck, and Thomas looked intensely uncomfortable, with Connie and Jean not seeming much better.
"Do they really..." Connie said hesitantly.
Marco shot him a look.
"Ah, I mean, what are they like?"
Eren's jaw clenched. "There's no point telling you right now. They'll have lessons. Wait for those."
"But those'll just be someone from the Garrison reading out of a book I bet!" a cadet whose name he didn't even know called from the next table over. "You've seen them, right? You probably know more than them anyway."
"I said—"
"Aw, c'mon man! Give us something. I—ow! What was that for?"
Eren watched a girl with tied-up blonde hair and a prominent nose bring her elbow back from the cadet's ribs.
He became aware of the fact that a sizable portion of the mess hall was now looking in his direction.
He should keep his mouth shut. They'd already drawn more attention than planned.
He looked out upon a sea of ignorance. Fury roiled in the pit of his stomach.
"Fine," he said quietly. "You won't like it, but I'll tell you. What we learned that day." A minute flinch from the blonde girl drew Eren's eye. He stared through her. "The truth they showed us. We have to wipe them out," he murmured. "All of them. Soon. No matter what. After what happened... I became convinced of it."
The mess hall fell into an uneasy hush.
"Wipe them out?" Connie asked, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead. "You don't mean you plan on joining the Survey Corps, do you?"
Eren held him beneath a frigid stare. "It's that or stand around in line waiting for your turn to die."
Connie scowled but said nothing.
When it seemed nobody else had anything to say either, at least for the time being, Eren picked his spoon back up. He didn't know that he'd be able to keep it down, but the painful hunger from earlier had reappeared with a vengeance.
The bite made it halfway to his mouth when Jean cut in from across the table, loudly and with annoyance written across his face, "But looking at it that way, wouldn't joining the Survey Corps be like skipping the line?"
Eren set his spoon down and glared.
"What?" Jean asked.
"You should shut your mouth."
"Why? So you can call everyone stupid again?"
Eren lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. "Hiding behind walls you know can't protect you is worse than stupid. It's insane."
Jean clicked his tongue. "Right, right, and going outside to fight them's the only thing that makes sense. I heard you the first time. Look, if the big one or the armored one showed up right now the same thing probably would happen. I get that. If you were just talking about hunting those two down then maybe I could see it." His eyes narrowed. "But I don't see why I have to sit here and take insults from a guy who spouts off childish stuff like 'If you don't join the Survey Corps with me you're crazy or you're stupid'."
Eren sneered across the table. "Jean, right? I remember you. You're the one who wants to join the Military Police and hide in the interior."
"Yeah, that's right, and I'm not too full of myself to admit it."
"Are you bragging about being a coward?"
Jean glanced around the room and seemed to become acutely aware of the many cadet onlookers. His glare darkened. "Call me what you want. I have enough pride to be honest with myself, that's all. It's better than talking tough when you're clearly terrified." He blew a dramatic sigh. "I'd hoped maybe as fellow head-butt-ees we might be able to be friendly, but you're the type people find hard to be around, aren't you? Sorry you had to hear it from me, but it's better someone tells you straight."
Eren slowly got to his feet. He'd been worn thin, forced to relive the two worst events of his life back-to-back. He felt sick to his achingly empty stomach and wanted nothing more than to choke down his pittance of gruel and go to sleep. It had, in short, been a shit day, and unlike earlier with the instructor there was no need for him to take any more of it lying down. Least of all from a long-faced son of a bitch like this.
"Fine," he said, rising to his feet. "Thanks for letting me know. Now let me return the favor." He leaned forward, braced himself with his arms, and spat out, "You are a pig. Do you understand? A pig so deep in love with its pen that even after wolves have broken in it still can't fathom fighting back. The type that squeezes into the farthest corner, thinks to itself 'at least now I'll be eaten last', and is proud to have had the thought. Jean, the only thing I'm terrified of is how fucking ignorant people like you are."
"BASTARD!" Jean shot to his feet and slammed his hands down on the tabletop. "That's it! I swear I'll make you eat those words! Come on! You and me! Right now!"
Adrenaline surged through Eren's veins. His hands balled to fists and shook at his sides. He wondered how good they'd feel smashing into the taller boy's face.
Whispers and a new wave of attention swept over the mess hall. They registered as little more than a buzz.
He stepped back over the bench and moved deliberately around the table, his eyes never leaving Jean's, begrudgingly impressed to find him at least man enough to back up his words and do the same.
As they drew closer it became obvious how much taller than him Jean really was.
That was fine. The losers who used to mess with Armin had all been bigger than him, too. Outsized, outnumbered, whatever. He didn't give a shit.
He raised his fists, guided by nothing more than fighting instinct.
Jean did the same.
The hushed spell over the mess hall broke as it became clear neither would back down. Cheers, jeers, and calls for them to stop poured in from all directions.
"Hell yeah! Get him!"
"Guys, don't! You're comrades now, aren't you?"
"Punch him right in the face!"
"No, no, body shots only, or Instructor Shadis will see!"
"Bring the prick down a peg or two for me!"
"Go on, man! Put your money where your mouth is!"
"Guys, come on," Marco said, now on his feet as well. "Let's all just calm down, okay?"
"Marco's right, Eren," Armin said. "This isn't why we joined up. Let it go."
"No."
"Eren," Mikasa said, cupping one of his hands between her own. "Don't."
"Let go, Mikasa."
"You're still hurt."
"I'm fine. Now get off me."
"At least let me help—"
Eren bared his teeth and ripped his hand free of her grip. That was the last fucking thing he wanted.
Of all people, it was Jean who saved him any further humiliation, cutting off anything else she might have said with a roar of Bastard! and a lunge towards him.
Eren darted in with a snarl of his own but had already lost the initiative.
The first punch was light, like a slap, and it caught him both by surprise and flush on the nose. The second was anything but, crashing into his chin at full force and sending him reeling.
Eren tripped back. His hip slammed painfully into the half-vacated bench and sent unfinished bowls of soup clattering to the ground as the whole thing shrieked against the floor.
"Eren!" his friends cried out together.
He ignored them, blinking away reflexive tears.
That bastard.
That bastard.
He would pay.
"Come on, asshole," Jean said, yanking him by his shoulder. "I'm not done with you!"
Eren spun into him and just managed to duck as another strong punch winged towards his face.
Peering up through dark tresses, he relished Jean's look of shock for a split second, loaded power into his legs, then rammed his fist as deep as he could into the soft flesh of the boy's belly.
He'd been right. Hitting him felt amazing.
He pulled back to do it again but found himself caught round the hips in a lock.
Jean grunted and drove him forward.
Eren rained down sharp elbows that stabbed at the back of the boy's head but couldn't keep his balance.
They fell.
Everything flashed white as his head bounced off the floor with a hollow crack!
He was still blinking away stars when the next blow landed, slamming him in his gasping mouth and snapping his head to the side. His teeth sliced into his lip, opening a wound that gushed hot blood.
The room turned red.
He raged up like an alley cat pinned beneath a pack of strays, wriggling around, swinging wild punches at whatever part of Jean he could reach. Untrained, unthinking, flat on his back, Eren missed more than he hit and only for half as hard as usual when he did connect, all while Jean continued to pummel down on him, a desperate grimace frozen on his face as though he could not believe Eren hadn't begged off yet.
Something occurred to him, then, as another of Jean's punches smashed into his cheek.
He was losing.
His blood boiled at the realization.
He couldn't lose! Not in front of Armin and Mikasa and everyone else. Not after he'd gone on about killing his enemies and fighting the titans. Not to a willfully ignorant bastard like this, who had given up on the real fight before it even started.
Not to someone who reminded him so keenly of his own cowardly father.
The thought was punctuated by another blow crashing into his face.
Eren decided enough was enough.
He bared bloody teeth and thrashed with all his might, bucking his hips and clawing at Jean's shirt with the goal of prying the taller boy off.
Jean lost his balance and pitched forward, though he retained his top position.
He began to sit back up.
Eren didn't let him.
Jean might have been taller, and stronger, and maybe even smarter than him, but there was at least one area Eren knew he had the long-faced fucker beat.
Threading his fingers through the lengthier part of Jean's fancy boy hair, Eren grabbed harsh fistfuls, reared his head back like a ram, then slammed their heads together.
Then he did it again.
Then again.
Each time, Eren enunciated his savagery with an angry, screaming roar.
The sickening sight of their heads bashing together was made worse by their drooling, mixing blood, which soaked through his bandages and poured from a cut on the bridge of his opponent's nose.
Eren wrenched Jean's head back, intending to slam his skull against it for a fourth time, when the fact that he'd gone limp finally registered. Squinting through hot tears he caught sight of Jean's eyes, half-lidded and aimless.
The ragged sound of his panting filled the now-quiet mess hall.
Jean's head fell to his chest as Eren released his grip. He rolled the unconscious boy off him and sat up.
The room spun and spun. He closed his eyes and waited for it to stop.
A few seconds later, rustling and groaning from beside him drew his attention. He cracked open an eye.
Jean was awake, blinking through a wince at what Eren hoped was a headache at least as bad as his own.
He watched the other boy take sight of him and put the pieces together. Watched his breath hitch. Watched him slam his fist into the floor. Watched red-pink tears run down his broken nose to join the splotches on the wood below.
"Fuck," he whimpered. "Fuck!"
Eren said nothing. The blinding hot rage that'd overtaken him was draining away, leaving him empty.
He turned away.
Two blurry figures he recognized as Armin and Mikasa broke from the crowd.
He sniffed to clear his nose, wiped his eyes and his split lips on his shirt sleeve, and took their offered hands.
Supporting his weight, they led him towards the far door.
He let them.
"Eren!"
He paused and turned back.
Jean rose on wobbly legs, one arm slung over a concerned looking Marco's shoulders.
"This doesn't mean anything," he said. "Not that I'm wrong, and not that you're right, either. I'm still gonna make you take back what you said. Don't forget it."
"Fine," Eren said. "I won't."
He turned and staggered from the mess hall with the aid of his friends.
They walked a while in silence.
The training grounds were fairly large and populated by a series of wooden structures, with the mess hall and the academic building being the largest, the officers' quarters being the smallest, and the cadet bunking cabins—which were divided first by class number and then along gender lines—falling somewhere in the middle. Most of these were organized in a semicircular fashion around the drilling yard, with a forest for practicing omnidirectional maneuvering on the southern side and a large barren area which served as a shooting range to the north. The drilling yard had played host to the Induction Ceremony earlier, though it now boasted but a single cadet, Sasha, who was still limping along when they passed.
The whole compound was situated in a small valley, with short cliffs boxing them in on all sides save the forested south. The looming rock faces reminded Eren of the walls and gave him the same unpleasant feeling of being caged in as the great white monoliths.
The knowledge that these, at least, were temporary, helped.
A large palisade topped with barbed wire ran along the tops of the cliffs and down their sloping sides. It continued on a few hundred meters into the forest, which itself stretched for many miles to the southwest, encircling a lake that lay at the base of several majestic mountains.
Wooden watchtowers stood vigil at regular intervals around the compound's perimeter, with larger variations situated in its corners and by its perpetually guarded gates.
Lantern light shone out in warm flickering oranges through cabin windows and from the tops of the watchtowers, with regularly placed standing torches illuminating the compound's footpaths.
They shuffled along, the three of them, taking in the sights and getting their bearings, Eren having long since recovered his footing and walking now unaided.
Eventually their feet led them to the tree line of the enclosed part of the forest. They paused at the edge.
"We shouldn't go too far," Armin said. "We'll be lucky to just get chewed out if we're not in our bunks by the final bell."
Eren shrugged. "It's loud. I'm sure we'd be fine... but maybe you're right."
Mikasa nodded.
She and Armin turned to head back, then stopped when they noticed Eren wasn't following, choosing instead to dig at a small stone in the dirt with the toe of his boot.
He freed it, studied its oblong shape a moment, then sent it towards Mikasa with a soft kick. It came to a stop in the dirt at her feet.
"Let's talk."
She hesitated, looking from the rock to him.
"We should head back. You need to get your cuts cleaned and dressed, then rest for the night, Eren. This can wait till tomorrow."
"I'm fine."
"Are you?" Armin asked. "That was a lot of head trauma for a single day. Even for you," he tacked on, smiling uncertainly.
Eren grinned. "Scrapes and bruises aside, I'm good."
He met his friend's eye meaningfully.
Armin nodded in understanding.
"I wish you had listened to me" Mikasa said. "You're so impulsive when you get angry."
"I meant let's talk about what we said we would" Eren sniped.
Honestly, as if she was any better!
"Fine." Mikasa sent the stone rolling towards Armin. "Nobody stood out as cute or ugly to me."
Eren blew his ire away with a snort, then nodded. That made sense. It was only their first day here, after all.
Armin chewed his lip, drawing their attention.
"Instructor Shadis, well, I'm not sure, but I thought it seemed like he might have recognized you, Eren."
Eren had noticed no such thing, but trusted Armin's judgement.
"Do you think he's..."
"No. I overheard some of the officers talking. He's been in the military longer than we've been alive, and even used to command the Survey Corps. I'd say there's no chance he's cute or ugly. I might even be wrong about him recognizing you," Armin said, "but I don't think I am. He seemed surprised when you told him your name."
"Maybe he knew Dr. Yeager?" Mikasa hedged. "If he was with the scouts then he must have passed through Shiganshina over the years."
Armin nodded. "That was my guess, too."
Eren's face screwed up in thought, eyes closed. "Commander of the Survey Corps..."
His eyes snapped open and sought out Mikasa's.
"That day," he said. "Leading the scouts back in. That was him, two years ago. I didn't recognize him without his hair."
"Are you sure?" Armin asked.
"I am."
How could he not be? He'd just watched the man return from his failed expedition a few hours ago.
"I remember now." Mikasa slowly reached across her waist and clutched her elbow. "He gave that lady her son's arm..."
"That's awful," Armin said. "I'd planned to go through the records to verify it just to be sure, but I guess there's no point if you both remember him."
Eren frowned. Something was niggling at the back of his head. "I'm not sure, but," he struggled, "I feel like, maybe, that wasn't the first time I saw him."
He winced as a sudden twinge shot up the base of his skull.
"Eren?"
He blinked it away and waved off his friends' concern.
"I'm fine. Forget it. Anything else, Armin?"
He didn't push, though it looked like he wanted to.
"Not really," he said, kicking the stone his way. "Nobody stuck out as cute or ugly to me either. Keep in mind that if there are cute people here, they're probably in the classes ahead of us."
"The 102nd and the 103rd right?" Eren asked. He sent the stone to Mikasa and tsked in annoyance when it bounced up and to the left, the damn lopsided thing. She of course had no problem covering his gaffe, springing to the side with the grace of a deer to catch his wayward pass on the side of her shoe—mid-air, no less. "Nice," he admitted with a grumble. "Anyway, are we sure they train here? I didn't see them all day."
"Yes," Mikasa said, bouncing the rock on her foot. "Their schedules are just staggered to be ahead of ours. Finding the time to watch them might be difficult."
"How do you know?"
She shrugged. "I bumped into a girl from the 102nd in the restroom while you were getting your head wrapped."
"In the medic's office? What was she there for?"
Faint heat showed on Mikasa's cheeks. "She was there because her... stomach hurt," she said, looking away.
"Did she seem cute?" asked Armin.
"We didn't speak much, but no, not as far as I could tell."
Eren sighed. "Guess that makes sense. What about dreamers?"
Mikasa shook her head and sent the stone to Armin in an easy arc.
"Crap," he said as he fumbled it. He shook his head. "I'm not really sure. Most everyone looked like they thought you were crazy earlier, when you mentioned joining the Survey Corps."
He struggled to balance the stone on his boot, waving off Mikasa's help when she offered to show him how. After some trying, he managed, and sent it Eren's way.
He caught it, albeit painfully with his ankle. "What about that big blonde guy?"
"Reiner?"
"Yeah. Said he enlisted to 'save the world'. Seemed serious, too."
"Perhaps. But even if he is, it's too early to approach him, or any potential dreamers, really. We'll be here for a long time; let's take things slowly and be careful."
Mikasa jerked, then trained an angry, betrayed look at Armin.
"Three years is not a long time."
Armin recoiled. "I—I didn't," he stammered, "that wasn't—" His shoulders sagged. "...No," he said finally, "you're right. Forgive me, Mikasa. It certainly is not."
The anger crumbled from her face. She scrubbed a palm across her eyes. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"It's okay. I know how you feel. It's how I feel, too."
Eren looked from Mikasa's wet eyes to the wretched expression on Armin's face. His need to comfort them was overwhelming.
He clenched his jaw and shoved the feeling as deep down as he could.
"It's spilled milk," he forced out harshly, glaring at the both of them. "We have other shit to worry about. And anyway, I won't regret something I decided on for myself."
"Eren..."
"Forget it," he said, kicking the stone deep into the woods, never to be seen again. "Let's just head back. I want to wash up before bed. These goddamn bandages are sticking to my face."
He stalked away.
Armin and Mikasa hesitated.
Eren could imagine the kind of look they were probably sharing behind his back.
Before he could make it too far, they ran and caught up with him.
They walked side by side back to the compound, quiet again.
After splitting to bathe (a quick if painful affair), he and Armin bade Mikasa goodnight and retired to their year's bunk, stepping inside just as the final bell sounded.
He got more than his fair share of cautious looks from the other boys, especially as he drew close to where Jean could be seen talking with Marco. The boy had a bandage wrapped around his nose and a black eye to match his own but seemed otherwise okay.
When he walked straight past and Jean merely huffed and looked away, the tension in the cabin eased.
It was rather long, the cabin, and built wide enough to accommodate the two columns of double wide bunk beds running its length, which were themselves furnished with a pair of mattresses on both their top and bottom levels.
Eren heard some of the boys raising a stink over having to sleep next to each other, but after sharing a single bed with both Armin and Mikasa these past two years in the labor camps, having a mattress of his own which was merely butted up against another was nothing short of a luxury.
He did spare a brief moment worrying about Mikasa strangling her bunkmate—she was a notoriously clingy sleeper—but quickly brushed it aside.
He and Armin were de facto assigned to the top beds of a bunk in the middle of the room, as all the rest had long since been claimed.
They decided who would get which with a quick game of rock-paper-scissors. Eren got stuck with the one pressed against the cabin's wall and feigned ire at the outcome. In truth, he was grateful for the added privacy. He had been plagued by nightmares for two long years now and had the mortifying tendency to awaken from them in dramatic fashion.
With the divvying done they climbed up, quietly listened to the rest of the cadets joke around for a few minutes, and finally, after Instructor Shadis stopped by to threaten them all if they didn't get to sleep soon, bedded down for the night.
Sleep did not come easily despite his exhaustion. More than the cuts and bruises, it was Eren's dread that kept him awake.
Tripping during the day almost always meant a night filled with terror, come sundown.
Despite this, when finally sleep did claim him, Eren's dreams were filled not with horror, but with walking.
Away from an endless, sparkling lake.
Over sandy dunes.
Across lush, rolling hills.
Through a forest of trees which dwarfed even the walls.
On and on for days, often from a height he was only fleetingly familiar with, till finally he came upon a sight equally alien and familiar.
Familiar, because he had lived within those towering ivory walls for all his life.
Alien, because for the first time, he was looking upon them from the outside.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for reading the first chapter of TTS. My goals for this story are to improve my writing ability and express my admiration for the source material. Please leave any feedback you have as a review. I cannot say when the next chapter will be posted, so favorite and follow to be alerted, if you like. Till next time!