Chapter 2: Familiar Among the Foreign
The sweltering heat of the midday sun beamed down the prisoner's back, penetrating the military cadet's small brown jacket. The red hairs atop his head singed at the heat and sweat trickled its way down to the brim of his facemask, which did little to aid the prisoner as its dark hue only further soaked in the sunlight. Being able to wipe off the sweat collecting on his forehead was not possible, with both hands behind his straightened back, standing at attention. Not to mention he wouldn't be able to as long as the bald man screaming his heart out was in view.
"Cadet Armin Arlert, why is a runt like you here?!" The bald man in a military uniform, who earlier introduced himself as the commandant Keith Sadies, screamed at the much shorter soldier with long blonde hair.
"To help humanity overcome the titans!" Armin responded with a scream to match the commandant, but the strain on his vocal cords could be heard from a few rows away. The wavering of his voice was caught by the commandant as he fired back with another insult.
"That is delightful to hear! You're gonna be a great light snack for 'em!" Tightly grabbing the top of his head, he cranked it clockwise to turn Armin's entire body around, and he was now facing backwards. "Row three, about face, runt!" The commandant continued down the line, screaming and demeaning soldiers that he deemed unworthy. With each target the commandant selected, the prisoner noticed a pattern: shaky voices, slim builds, wavering posture. The cadets were simply prey to the wolf of a commandant, and he snarled and bit at every flaw he could spot. It was similar to the guards at prison, flaunting power and intimidation at the prisoners to make them more obedient, establish dominance and a power structure, not dissimilar to that of an alpha to his pups. Only in these cases, the alpha doesn't give a damn what happens to the pups.
Yet, he passed by several people in the next row of cadets, some barely older than the previous. Rocksteady stance, unquivering lips, piercing stares and the subtle strain on each face. No doubt there was an experience behind each feature, the prisoner thought. Maybe a life of battle, constant strife and struggle? Either way, the commandant deemed them worthy enough to not initiate them in his rite of passage.
"Cue ball! You're up next!" The commandant had already made his way to the cadet next to the prisoner. Peering over to the cadets before him, the prisoner noticed a man slumped to the ground clutching at his head, and another whose previous smile had now been replaced with a mouth agape in horror. They didn't have the same features as those previously targeted, from what the prisoner could see. Being able to sniff out weaknesses not from appearances, but from surmising their own thoughts. The commandant was a well-experienced hunter.
"You have it backwards, Connie Springer." The commandant seethed after picking up the shaved cadet by the head with both hands. The cadet's body swung while being held a foot or two from the ground, but he still maintained his incorrect salute, with his right fist behind him and his left fist on the right side of his chest. "That was the first thing you were taught," the commandant continued to reprimand him, "This salute represents the resolve in your heart to fight those bent on the systematic destruction of our people. Is your heart on your right side?!"
In contrast to the commandant's fingers gripping and digging into the blundering cadet's head, his face maintains a tempered composure. That is, until his eyes met with the prisoner's.
"What the hell are you looking at, maggot?" The commandant growled without turning his head. The dropping of the buzzcut cadet was as if the commandant rang a bell, all eyes-both from the front and back rows-were now on the masked prisoner. With each step the commandant approached the prisoner, his scowl spread further until now his once composed face was that of seething rage. Unlike the other cadets, the prisoner maintained his eye contact until the commandant was now in front of him and looking down at him, with the prisoner not bothering to look straight ahead. "Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"
His question was answered with silence. Only the breeze of the wind could be heard, as well as the tension itself. It didn't take long for the commandant to realize no answer was coming from the masked cadet, and it did little to lighten his mood.
"Are you deaf, maggot?! Or are you stupid?!" The growl had now become a roar, louder than it was for any of the previous cadets. There was no verbal reply, only the same intensified glare and the exhalation of air through his covered nostrils came from the prisoner. Unexpectedly from the prisoner, the commandant's face twisted into a crooked grin at his response. The prisoner had fallen for his trap.
"Oh, I guess you aren't deaf, just really stupid." The commandant slightly chuckled to himself as he straightened up his posture. He slowly circled the prisoner as he continued, "I was waiting for someone like you to try and act tough, thinking they can size me up. That way I can watch them squirm as I break them down."
At the commandant's final word, a sudden pain had struck behind the prisoner's knees, causing them to buckle and the prisoner to fall. On instinct, the prisoner caught the fall with his arms, but the shock of the pain prevented further action. The sound of footsteps approached from behind him as they made their way in front of his head. With his head down on the ground, the only thing in view was the brown, worn leather boots of the commandant, covered in dirt and mud. The prisoner tried to follow his gaze up the commandant's figure to his face, only to have the back of his head stomped back down to its original position.
"I didn't say to look up, maggot!" The commandant's angry screaming had returned, and he continued without moving his foot from the back of the prisoner's head, "Now let this be an example to all of you titan fodder! When I tell you to do something, you do it! When I ask you a question, you answer! If you do something I didn't tell you to, then you will be punished for insubordination! Is that understood?!"
"Sir, yes sir!" Was the resounding answer from all the cadets. All except the prisoner.
"Hm? Still wanna act tough, maggot?" The prisoner's silence didn't go unnoticed. The weight upon the back of the prisoner's cranium grew heavy, and more clumps of mud were digging into his hair and scalp. But suddenly the weight was gone, and the commandant's foot was no longer planted on his head. Still, the commandant's overwhelming presence and intimidation prevented the prisoner from raising his head to check. The commandant then swiftly kicked at his arms and legs, moving them shoulder-length apart.
"I'm sure someone as dumb as you knows what this is." The commandant said as he made his way back to the front of the prisoner. "I'm feeling a little generous today, since it's only day one. So, you get to do push ups until I feel that you know how to take orders. You will only go up when I tell you, and you will only go down when I tell you. Perfect for tough guys like you.
"Now up!" At the beck and call of the commandant's voice, the prisoner outstretched his legs and firmly planted his hands to the ground, raising his body up in a slant while maintaining a straight back and legs. Getting into proper form took ease, and maintaining the stance itself was not too strenuous for the prisoner. If anything, the sweltering heat of the sun on his sweating back was the most irritating.
"Down!" Upon command, the prisoner lowered his body with the bending of his arms, which were now forming a 90-degree angle about his elbow. Normally the first push up isn't too bad, but now that he was unable to go up as he wanted, the prisoner was forced to maintain the strained position. Already after 15 seconds of holding position, the muscles in arms, chest, and core were beginning to ache. "When you come up, I expect you to count how many push ups you've done!"
There was silence placed by the commandant, as if he were expecting the prisoner to respond in affirmation. In his expectancy, the commandant kept his silence, and now nearly several minutes have passed as the prisoner held position. What were initially droplets were now streams of sweating pouring from his head to the ground below, moistening it into many small puddles of mud. Behind his mask, the prisoner gritted his teeth so hard he thought he could feel them crack from the pressure. His arms were quivering, begging to have some relief. His chest felt like it had been punched repeatedly. Nearly at wit's end, his body was slowly starting to lower even further, nearing the ground.
"Up!" The commandant's command was a saving grace, and the prisoner was quick to obey the order as he straightened himself with a grunt followed by heavy panting. Amidst the prisoner's few seconds of throat-burning panting, the commandant's anger was heard again. "Count, maggot!" There was no answer again. "Are you so dumb that you can't count, maggot? Or do you have some sort of disability? Down!" There was only a moment's hesitation before the prisoner complied, and now the strain upon his upper body muscles had returned. He could only hope that the commandant's "Up" would come soon.
"Yes sir, he does. He's not able to talk." A female voice a few rows behind answered the commandant's question. A familiar voice that had a strangely foreign tone to the prisoner.
"Who is speaking out of line-" The commandant stopped himself as he looked around for the girl who answered, spotting a peculiar sight. Breaking the silence was only the sounds of vigorous chewing, followed by a loud crunch, as if someone had taken a bite out of something. Upon hearing these noises, the prisoner's confusion and deciphering the voice had now been solved, and he couldn't stop himself from grinning sheepishly. "Hey you. What do you think you're doing?" The commandant had returned to a low growl at the sight of his new prey, and he left the prisoner who had been forced to maintain his lowered position. Yet even through the pain, his attention was focused on the scene befalling behind him as he looked over his shoulder to view it.
It was a young girl with long reddish-brown hair kept in a ponytail that reached to the base of her neck. Despite the focus she maintained in not making eye contact with the approaching commandant, the female cadet took another chomp at the peeled potato in her hand. While the other cadets next to her nearly gasped in shock at the audacity of her feeding, the prisoner couldn't help but shake his head in amusement at its familiarity. Oh Sasha, never change… he thought to himself.
"Both of you maggots are officially on my shit list! Just who the hell are you?!" The commandant erupted with fury, taking the chewing cadet by surprise to where the piece of potato she was chewing on nearly clogged her throat. Thankfully she managed to swallow the chunk in a loud gulp, and immediately salute the commandant, with her partially eaten potato still in her right hand.
"Sasha Braus from Dauper Village, at your service! Reporting for duty, sir!" The potato-eating girl responded sharply, yet still in a strange tone that was unfamiliar to the prisoner. Trying to recollect his memories proved impossible to the prisoner however, as it took most of his will and concentration to both maintain his lowered position while watching Sasha get screamed at by the commandant.
"Sasha Braus, huh?" In his typical pattern, the commandant's soft-spoken growl returned, in preparation to pounce at the right opportunity. "And what is that you're clutching in your right hand?"
"A steamed potato. It sat there in the mess hall, begging to be eaten, sir."
"The theft. I understand. But here… why eat it here of all places?" The commandant's question seemed more genuine rather than rhetorical.
"It looked delicious, and it was getting cold, so I gave it shelter in my stomach, sir." Sasha's response would, to others, seem sarcastic and mocking, but for the prisoner he could tell it was a genuine lack of tact.
"Why? I can't comprehend. Why would you eat that potato?" The commandant's confusion was only growing in understanding Sasha's bizarre actions. His confusion began to spread to Sasha as well, as she absentmindedly spoke her thoughts.
"Are you asking me why people eat potatoes? I'm surprised you don't know, sir." The blurting of the last statement further amplified the shock on many of the onlooking cadets' faces, and a gust of silence passed the air at her lack of decorum.
I… I can't… the prisoner could barely contain his laughter, and the strength to hold it in had now exhausted the bent arms holding his position. With a snicker that was further resounded in the silence left by Sasha, the prisoner fell flat on his face as the rest of his body slumped to the side on the dirt. Now many eyes were staring at him with looks of astonishment and disbelief, and the prisoner could surmise everyone's thoughts being, 'How could this shitshow get any worse?'
Thankfully, Sasha came up with a master plan, as she tore her potato in half with a crispy snap. Looking at the torn piece wistfully, she brought it forth to the commandant's unchanged face. "Here sir, have half." Sasha offered.
"'Have half'? Really?" The commandant's tone shifted to one of fake excitement as he took the piece and looked at it in confusion. Though his tone didn't seem to resonate with Sasha, as her crumb-covered mouth formed an anxious smile while the commandant continued to look at the piece before turning his attention back at the prisoner. Despite the prisoner's form now reduced to a crumbled, panting mess, the commandant's expression didn't change, nor did he reprimand him immediately. Instead, he looked back at the torn potato piece in his hand, and he continued without averting his gaze from the potato, "Actually, I have something for you and your little boyfriend, Cadet Sasha Braus."
The commandant released his grip from the potato piece, and Sasha's smile quickly contorted to an agape look of distress. Stopping herself from moving to catch the potato, she could only watch as the potato piece she offered was slowly discarded. Watching the whole scene unfold, the prisoner laid in recovery of his upper body, unable to lift himself up off the ground. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, knowing these last few moments would be the only solace he gets before facing what the commandant had in store for them.
Unable to hold it in any longer, the prisoner quickly lowered his mask to release the vomit suppressed in his throat, spraying the dirt at his feet with the putrid bile. Wheezing in the cold air inflamed his sore throat, but he used the inhaled air to help expel the remnants of barf from his nostrils. Still, the pain in his throat was nothing compared to his legs, where a simple breeze would be enough to befall him straight into his freshly made puddle of gastric fluid. Thankfully, the cabin porch in front of the prisoner was enough to leverage his weight as he leaned upon it with most of his upper body.
Despite the crackling of the bonfire next to him, the prisoner's ears keenly sensed the pitter-patter of someone approaching. The pace was slow, and carried a moderate amount of weight in them, comparable to that of a deer. Cautious, though curious, as if they had found a bush with berries. Upon instinct, the prisoner swiftly wiped the remaining spit from his lips with his sleeve and put his facemask back on. He turned around slowly to not scare the approacher, but they were barely out of sight from the bonfire's range. All he could see was the body of Sasha Braus, who had collapsed from the intensive punishment they both endured of 'running until you die', as the commandant put it. At first she seemed serene, almost vulnerable in her tired state, but immediately after that thought was in the prisoner's head, her nose caught a whiff of something, and she pounced at the direction the footsteps were. During Sasha's leap, the prisoner caught a glimpse of someone falling back from it, as if Sasha had grabbed something from them.
With a sigh and slight shake of the head, the prisoner pushed himself off the porch and began walking his way towards Sasha. Although one might think that, with the amount of running they had to do, his feet would be inflicted with pain at each step, they actually have surpassed pain into no feeling at all. Complete numbness. It was the only thing that allowed the prisoner to complete his punishment and approach Sasha, who has now taken on the appearance of a starved beast, with her legs and arms on the ground and holding a loaf of bread in her mouth. As he neared Sasha, she whipped her head at him and snarled, like an animal protecting their meal. Without even a flinch, the prisoner used his hand to chop Sasha on the top of her head, effectively snapping her out of her beast-like trance.
"It's bread!" She exclaimed, presenting the bitten loaf to the prisoner in extravagant fashion.
It is indeed bread. The prisoner thought to himself, nodding in affirmation with a sheepish expression.
"I'm sorry there isn't more, that's all I could take. Sorry but you'll both have to share it." A female voice apologized from behind the two. Her words danced through the air in a delicate grace, until they reached the two's ears in a beautiful sound. It was soft and nice, very different from the gruff and scratchy noises that boomed out of the commandant's mouth. Both Sasha and the prisoner turned their heads toward the elegant voice, and the prisoner realized it was the person that had approached him. "Hey hang on, you both should drink a little water first."
The prisoner's preconceived thoughts of the approacher's appearance hit the bullseye. The girl's white and delicate hands held a snakeskin of water, keeping it close to her tiny frame and bosom. Her golden blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes were illuminated even further as the bonfire served as a backdrop. Similar to her features, the approacher's clothes retained the same elegance as they were no longer the typical cadet uniform, but now a white silk blouse and a long red skirt. Her ethereal figure was very reminiscent of a young doe, a model of innocence and fragility.
What is someone like her doing here? The prisoner wondered. In the-relatively speaking-same vein as the prisoner, Sasha promptly rushed in front of the sitting doe and sang her praises, leaving behind the bread she was hellbent on protecting.
"You! You're a goddess, aren't you?!" Sasha shouted in pure awe placing both her hands on the doe's shoulders. While the doe stumbled on her words, the prisoner spared her the embarrassment of answering by sitting with them, poking Sasha and displaying her the bread she dropped. With a sparkle in her eye, and drool leaking from her mouth, she made a reach for it, before another cadet approached the group and called out to them, "Hey, just what are you three up to?"
When the voice's face came into the bonfire's light, it revealed a tall tanned woman wearing-what the prisoner now assumed to be-the cadet's nightwear. This cadet's stance, the prisoner remembered her being one of the several cadets the commandant skipped earlier. Now paired with her unwavering voice, it seemed foreign to the prisoner. All he could do to tighten his guard, considering the state of his body, was shoot an analyzing glare. It seemed she noticed his staring and fired back with a similar one. The prisoner's glare didn't last long though, as Sasha had swiped the loaf from his hand, causing him to now become distracted with Sasha's antics.
With a feigned vindictive look from the prisoner, Sasha stopped consuming the loaf and offered it back to the masked man, putting on an embarrassed grin with both of her cheeks bloated with food she was still chewing. Although his defeated sigh contradicted his amused expression, the prisoner took a small chunk from the bread. The ravenous cadet greedily continued devouring the loaf, nearly choking on it as she inhaled larger and larger chunks.
"I see. So you're trying to be nice, huh?" The tanned woman replied with a subtle disgust to the doe. The prisoner realized he missed parts of their conversation but was able to detect the cynicism behind the tanned woman's words.
"Eh?" Was all the blonde doe could reply with, before Sasha made a resounding gulp as she swallowed the last of her food and collapsed upon the doe's lap. The prisoner had half a mind to prod at her now unconscious body with his foot but couldn't even get past extending his leg halfway.
I know I took a little, but that's it? The prisoner lamented in his thoughts.
"What's the point in breaking the rules for Potato Girl and the Masked Moron?" The tanned cadet questioned the doe. Upon hearing the monikers, he looked at the sleeping Sasha and down at his own facemask. "That mindless act of kindness gets you absolutely nowhere." If there were any doubts about her cynicism in the prisoner's mind, there sure wasn't any now.
Only silence served as a response, and a piercing glare at the tanned cadet from both the doe and the masked prisoner. The tanned girl gives a sigh of defeat and throws a "Whatever," to the wind before bending down to Sasha. "Let's just get her to bed already," the tanned girl stated in a grunt as she lifted the snoring Potato Girl on her back, and then she turned her attention to the masked prisoner saying, "Can't do much for you though. Girls and guys sleep in different cabins after all."
"I'm confused, are you being nice?" The doe asked the tanned girl, clear irritation in her voice at the sudden hypocrisy.
"I'm helping her so that she'll owe me one in the future." With a smirk, the tanned cadet looked at the unaware Sasha's sleeping face slyly and muttered, "I intend to make use of her stupidity."
At the snarky statement, the masked prisoner jolted to his feet, only to sprain his legs and begin his collapse. The blonde doe managed to catch him on his descent and carefully placed him on his knee asking, "Are you all right," with her soft voice. With the lack of being able to say anything, all the masked prisoner could do was growl and grit his teeth behind his mask.
"Oh don't worry, I'll find use for you too. You don't seem as dumb, but I'm sure you'll do whatever I want as long as she's under my thumb." The tanned girl sinisterly remarked. The statement only made the masked prisoner's face harden, and the built-up exhaustion had prevented him from retaliating. The tanned girl must have noticed it as well, as she made her cue to leave with a, "Be seeing you two."
After the tanned girl had left with Sasha in tow, the prisoner managed to regain his footing as he properly stood up on his own. The small blonde doe straightened herself up as well and faced the masked man.
"Sorry about that. I'm not sure what's wrong with her." She apologized yet again in her soft tone. It was alluring, enough to captivate anyone who listened. In his trance, the masked man shook his head as if to say, 'It's okay.' "Oh! I forgot to give this to you too," the doe exclaimed in shock as she noticed the snakeskin of water in her hands, "Here have some. I'm sure you're thirsty after all that running."
The masked prisoner accepted the water and noticed the full weight of it. Suddenly the masked prisoner felt the dryness of his parched throat, and the full snakeskin of water was hypnotizing him to drink it. Out of nowhere, the grumbling of his stomach interrupted the trance, as both him and the doe gave their undivided attention to the sudden noise.
"Oh, you didn't eat much of the bread, did you? You gave most of it to Potato- I mean Sasha, right?" The blonde doe asked, catching herself before saying the mocking moniker.
The masked prisoner gave an embarrassed nod, the blushes on his cheek showing through his mask.
"Sorry, there wasn't any more left in the mess hall, and I didn't think anyone was going to give any either." The blonde doe apologized once more. Almost each time she spoke it was in an apology, with the same sweet voice that could lull a rabid wolf. Its delicate nature and soft tone was comforting, but maybe too comforting. As if it were hiding something, like a trap intended for prey. The sight of this delicate doe was no more than a farce, thought the masked prisoner. A chill ran up his spine as his illusion was broken, the realization shaking him to his core.
"Uh…" The blonde cadet muttered, staring at the snakeskin that the masked prisoner was holding. Realizing she was wondering why he hadn't started drinking, the masked prisoner began to bring the tip of the container to his mouth. He put his fingers to his facemask, about to lower it to begin quenching his thirst, before he noticed that the blonde cadet was watching him. He could see the curiosity in her eyes as she watched with bated breath. She'll be able to know what's behind the mask, why he wasn't able to talk. Normally he would have lowered the mask around someone like her, kind and caring, but there was still that tingling feeling. The reason to keep his guard up. So he stopped his fingers from reaching the mask, as he made eye contact with the staring blonde cadet. Upon meeting his gaze for a mere second, she became aware of her own staring, and bashfully looked away.
"Ah, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare!" Again another apology, but this one seemed genuine, the masked prisoner thought. In her embarrassment, the blonde cadet scurried away towards what was presumably the girl's cabin.
Now alone, he could finally quell the dryness in his mouth and throat, with the sweet nectar of life. He put down the cloth covering his face and placed the opening of the snakeskin to his lips. With a slight raise, water came pouring into his parted lips, slaking his thirst with each gulp. Oh how it felt so heavenly, like a wave of rejuvenation filling his body. Yet, it wasn't as sweet as he remembered, but not because it was most likely well water in a leathery container. It barely tasted of anything at all. All he wished was to be able to taste it the same as before. In his satiated thirst, the masked prisoner could only feel saddened, as the tongue he once used for talking and tasting, was gone.