Wanted to write something that might take time to finish.
AU where Our Man makes it back home and then deals with Marley and the world.
So here it is.
The massive hand of the titan swiped down, its shadow blotting out the sun for a moment. He barely dodged, throwing himself to the side as dirt and debris exploded around him. Gritting his teeth, he drew his blades from his sheaths and dove forward. The titan loomed, massive and mindless, but his movements were faster, sharper. In a flash, his blades slashed at its heels, severing the tendons with a clean, precise motion. The titan roared, its guttural cry shaking the air as it crumpled, and he didn't hesitate.
Using the momentum of his leap, he ran along the titan's spine. He clenched his jaw, gathering every ounce of strength he had. With one final, explosive swing, he brought the blades down into the nape of the titan's neck. A burst of steam and the nauseating stench of evaporating flesh followed. He jumped clear just as the titan's body dissolved into nothingness, leaving only a faint smear of blood and viscera on the earth.
Clicking his tongue in frustration, he adjusted the green scout cloak draped over his shoulders, its edges tattered from months of wear and battle. He glanced around, his senses on high alert. The forest was still, save for the sound of his Palomino's hooves crunching softly through the underbrush as it approached. The horse nudged him with its muzzle, as if to ask if the threat had passed. He patted its muscular neck absently, his mind racing.
It would have been easier if he'd had functioning ODM gear. The maneuvering apparatus had been his lifeline once, but now it was a deadweight, the gas canisters long depleted and the mechanisms worn down. His horse had been his salvation, carrying him through countless close calls like this one.
How long had it been since he'd fought alongside someone else? Days? Weeks? He'd stopped counting. His solitude stretched on endlessly, a cruel reminder of the scout regiment he'd been forced to leave behind.
He tightened his grip on the reins and mounted his horse. The Palomino whickered softly, its golden coat shining even in the dappled sunlight filtering through the giant trees. The horse seemed untouched by the horrors they'd endured, a testament to its strength and resilience. Together, they moved through the forest, weaving between towering trunks and over tangled roots.
Miche's voice echoed in his mind. Always trust your senses. I trust my nose; you trust your ears. Titans are loud; they give themselves away.
He owed his life to Miche's training. His senses were sharper than ever, allowing him to pick up the faintest rustle of leaves or the distant creak of wood. Yet the forest had been unnervingly quiet. Maybe, just maybe, he could finally leave it behind without stumbling into another horde like always.
Anxiety bubbled beneath his stoic exterior. Being away from the regiment meant he had a lot to explain. Commander Erwin would demand answers if he made it back. If. The thought lingered as he pressed his horse onward.
The forest began to thin, and soon he reached his hideout, a hidden alcove veiled by hanging vines and a shallow cave carved into the rocky terrain. He dismounted and retrieved his meager belongings, wrapping his scout cloak more tightly around his shoulders. Climbing down into the hideout, he checked for signs of disturbance. Finding none, he mounted his horse again and rode out, leaving the oppressive canopy of trees behind for the open plains.
Hours passed as he crossed the wide, empty expanse of grass. He kept his head on a swivel, wary of any movement. Titans rarely wandered these parts, but that didn't mean they were absent. Yet, to his surprise, the plains were eerily quiet. Not a single titan in sight.
The sight of the 23rd Expedition castle ruins on the horizon filled him with cautious hope. The crumbling stone walls rose against the skyline, a grim reminder of the scouts who had perished here. He dismounted and began to search, picking his way through the overgrown debris. His goal was clear — find a functional ODM gear, or at least parts that could be salvaged.
The deeper he ventured into the ruins, the more desolation he found. Rotten flesh and skeletons lay in heaps, the grim remains of those regurgitated by titans after failing to fully digest them. He forced himself to look away, his focus shifting to the scattered remnants of equipment. At last, he found an abandoned set of ODM gear, its components rusted but not beyond repair.
Setting to work, he examined the housing winch and grapple mechanisms, testing their integrity. The turbine that powered the retraction system was damaged, its gas cylinders corroded. Yet, he managed to salvage a few usable parts. With a bit of luck, he could cobble together a functional set.
By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, he'd built a small fire in a sheltered corner of the ruins. The warm glow of the flames flickered over his tired features as he roasted a rabbit he'd caught earlier. The stew bubbled in his mess tin, its aroma mingling with the crisp night air. He ate slowly, savoring the rare comfort of a hot meal.
As he ate, he continued working on the ODM gear, his hands deftly disassembling and reassembling the intricate parts. The blades were still sharp, and the main housing winch seemed operational. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he wasn't utterly at the mercy of the titans.
His thoughts drifted to the walls, to the safety that lay beyond them. He hadn't seen another human face in what felt like an eternity. The regiment would be waiting for him… if they hadn't written him off as dead. His chest tightened at the thought of reuniting with them. He owed Commander Erwin an explanation. He owed all of them an explanation.
The fire crackled softly as he lay back on his sleeping mat, the stars above a distant, unchanging canopy. The forest had been a prison, the plains a labyrinth, and the ruins a graveyard. Yet, somehow, he had survived. He closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling him into a restless sleep.
Tomorrow, he would press on.
Tomorrow, he would find his way back.
The soft light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the ruined walls. He stirred awake, his body aching from the toll of endless battles and restless nights. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His breath puffed in the chill morning air as he surveyed his surroundings.
The castle ruins remained as desolate as before, the faint scent of smoke from his extinguished fire lingering in the air. He stood and stretched, then set to work searching through the ruins once more. His persistence paid off when, buried under a pile of debris, he unearthed an old musket. The weapon was battered and rusted in places, but functional enough. He checked the mechanism and pocketed a handful of ammunition that had been stored nearby. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.
Satisfied with his findings, he packed up his meager belongings and mounted his Palomino. The horse snorted, eager to move. He guided it forward, leaving the ruins behind and venturing deeper into the wilderness. Eventually, the towering forms of another massive forest emerged on the horizon. The sight of the colossal trees sent an uneasy ripple through him, and memories came rushing back — the fight with the Female Titan.
He clenched his jaw, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest. If he had been faster, more decisive, could he have helped Captain Levi and the others? Could he have saved Petra and the others? No matter how many times he replayed the events in his mind, the answer never changed. He'd done his best, and his best hadn't been enough. Still, he had been trusted by Commander Erwin, Hange, and Captain Levi to protect the scouts under his watch. And he had done so, even at a great personal cost. Without him, many more might have fallen to the titans the Female Titan called.
He shook the thoughts away, focusing on the present. The forest loomed closer, its quiet unnerving. He strained his ears, listening for the telltale thuds of approaching titans, but heard nothing. It should have been a relief, but instead, it filled him with dread. Titans didn't just disappear. Perhaps Eren had used his powers to kill them? It was a comforting thought, but one he couldn't dwell on now.
His goal was Shiganshina. If he could make it there, he might find proper ODM gear, refuel, and finally return to the safety of the walls. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.
The open plains stretched out before him, and as he approached Shiganshina, a curious sight caught his eye. A caravan of wagons trundled along the road ahead. His heart leapt… could they be scouts? He urged his horse into a gallop, closing the distance swiftly. Drawing near, he saw the drivers weren't soldiers but merchants. Still, the sight of human activity after so long in isolation brought a surge of hope.
He matched pace with one of the wagon drivers, who was startled at his sudden appearance. The man's expression quickly shifted to one of recognition as he noticed the Wings of Freedom emblem on his battered green cloak.
"What's happening here?" He asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.
"What do you mean, sir?" The merchant tilted his head, then smiled. "Ah, you've been away, haven't you? The Scouts have retaken Shiganshina! The walls are secure again!"
His jaw slackened. The words didn't register at first. Shiganshina, retaken? The walls, safe?
The rest of the caravan noticed him and began chattering excitedly, recounting the events of the Battle of Shiganshina District. They spoke of the Scouts' daring efforts, the sacrifices made, and the final triumph. It was almost too much to take in.
One of the women in the caravan turned to him, her gaze curious. "What happened to you?"
"I was left behind," He admitted, his tone flat. "I acted as bait so my comrades could escape. I guess… I missed a lot news since months ago."
Laughter rippled through the group, and one traveler clapped him on the back. "You must have been surprised, then!"
He nodded, though a flicker of unease tugged at him. The merchants seemed jubilant, but his instincts screamed a warning. His ears pricked, and he straightened in his saddle. Standing on his saddle without moving an inch. A faint sound reached him —a low rumble, almost imperceptible but unmistakable.
"Stop the caravan," He said sharply.
"What's wrong?" a merchant asked, alarmed.
"It's a titan." His voice was cold, his expression grim.
"That's impossible!"
"We should listen," another merchant urged, fear creeping into his tone.
Before anyone could protest further, he fired his ODM gear. The grapples latched onto the gate, and he launched himself forward. Twisting mid-air, he scanned the surroundings, his eyes narrowing as a titan erupted from a fallen building nearby. It was a smaller one, but no less dangerous.
The hiss of gas from a set of ODM gear caught his ears, faint but growing closer. He didn't wait. Firing his grapples again, he swung toward the titan, his boots skimming the ridge of a roof. With a deft twist of his body, he landed on the wall of a crumbling house, then launched himself once more. His blades flashed as he spun, slicing clean through the titan's nape. The beast evaporated in a hiss of steam, and he landed lightly on its dissolving neck, his stance steady and blades held in reverse.
From the corner of his eye, he saw other soldiers approaching. Their ODM gear brought them swiftly to his side, their movements curious and cautious. As they drew closer, recognition dawned on their faces.
"Yo, Jean," He said with a tired smile, lowering his blades.
Jean's face lit up with a mix of disbelief and joy. "Kare! You're alive!"
Before he could say more, Sasha's voice rang out. "KAREEEEEEE, YOU'RE ALIVE!"
She tackled him with surprising force, Conny right behind her. The two of them knocked him flat, tears streaming down their faces as they clung to him like children who hadn't seen their big brother who had left to buy milk.
"Guys, I can't breathe," Kare managed, though he couldn't hide his smile and tears as well.
"Jean's crying," Sasha teased.
Jean rolled his eyes but wiped away a tear himself. "S-shut up! It's tears of joy, obviously," he muttered defensively, earning a laugh from Sasha.
As the group helped Kare to his feet, three more figures arrived. Mikasa's sharp eyes softened when she saw him. Armin's face lit up with relief, and Eren… Eren looked exhausted, but gave a genuine smile.
"You're alive," Eren said simply, his voice carrying both surprise and gratitude.
"I am." Kare's tone was steady, but his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. "I'm going to need a sitrep, though."
Armin nodded, his expression earnest. "A lot has happened. But first, welcome back, Kare."
Kare looked around at his friends, at the faces he had feared he might never see again. A grin broke across his face. "Thanks. It's good to be back."
"Somehow, I knew you'd make it," Mikasa added, her tone softer than usual.
Kare smiled, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
He had a lot of catching up to do, but for the first time in months, he was finally back home.
Karera no (which means Their) shorten to Kare
Freund which is Friend.
So I'm going with 'Kare Freund' (their friend) since referring to him only as Our Man/Our Friend, is hard.