It's on Ao3 now WOOO
SUMMARY: After reaching an agreement with Annie, you're sent on your first mission in order to prove your worth.
A/N : One of the longest chapters I've ever written! That' not a high bar though. Hope you enjoy! My writing's still kinda cheeks so I'd appreciate any comments.
Seven files lay sprawled across your desk, each containing vital information on both your comrades and your upcoming mission. In preparation for tomorrow’s assignment, Theo Maggath tasked you with memorizing the details of all six titans.
The first file to catch your attention is about the Female Titan. The file goes into detail about the titan’s strengths and weaknesses.
“..possessing extreme versatility, the Female Titan offers the user both mobility, offense, and endurance in the form of its hardening ability. While a versatile all-rounder, it suffers from a lack of ranged abilities, rendering it ineffective in long distance fights. This titan was granted to Annie Leonhart, for her combat prowess..”
You can’t help but appreciate their decision to assign Leonhart as the Female’s user. While you don’t know her personally, your short interaction was enough to confirm what you’ve read about her combat skills.
Leonhart seemed cold, but her cooperation with Reiner at the very least told you that she was willing to work with others. She is undoubtedly a powerful asset to the team.
Next, is the Armored Titan.
“..specializing in hardening, it covers itself in plated segments of hardened skin acting akin to armor, hence the name. While incredibly durable, its heavy armor often hinders mobility. This titan was assigned to Reiner Braun for his perseverance..”
From what you’ve gathered, Reiner didn’t seem to fit the file’s description of him. Not in the slightest. Though seeing as part of the file includes a detailed description of his qualities from one of the other Warriors, namely one Marcel Galliard, you decide to trust their words. Besides, they trained with him for years while you’ve barely even met him.
As for the titan, it seems akin to the Warhammer. It possesses superior hardening but, in return, is only limited to using it as armor while yours can be fashioned into weapons. You wonder if you could personally ask Reiner for help seeing as you have some trouble.
The next file covers the Jaw Titan.
“..a quadrupedal titan that sacrifices defense for an immaculate offense. It boasts sharp claws and a powerful jaw that makes tearing through steel incredibly easy. It is capable of rending through enemy forces if a sufficient window is provided. Marcel Galliard was chosen for his quick wits..”
While one of the weakest in terms of durability, the Jaw’s stature allows it to sprint across fields and jump from building to building with minimal effort. Paired with a proper strategy, there was no doubt that it was one of the most valuable titans.
The inheritor, Marcel, felt fit despite what little you know about him. While you never interacted much, he seemed to be cunning. It didn’t take much for you to agree with the file’s description of his quick thinking and decision-making skills.
Then, a more mysterious entry. The Beast Titan. You grab the file and wipe a layer of dust off of the cover.
“..The Beast is a particularly large humanoid titan, it’s large lanky arms allow it to throw objects at high speeds with the power to mimic a powerful artillery barrage. In addition to its powerful throwing power, it seems to have some sort of control over certain titans. Research still in progress. Assigned to Zeke Yeager after personal training with the previous Beast Titan, Tom Ksaver.”
The dust tells you that the file’s much older than the rest. That and, according to the dates within, Zeke received his titan before the rest. As for the contents, the Beast is similar to the Jaw in terms of trading endurance for power.
While severely lacking any defenses, its control over titans and long-range capabilities essentially made it a portable artillery barrage and command center in one terrifying package. The very thought of having to face the Beast Titan and it’s throwing power made you shiver.
The Cart Titan’s file is next.
“..It’s notable stamina allows the user to stay transformed for long periods of time. Additionally, the quadruped can be equipped with various attachments depending on the situation. While not as physically capable as the other titans, it still possesses noteworthy speed and strength. Pieck Finger was chosen for her resourcefulness and decision making skills.”
This one piques your interest quite a bit. Clearly, this titan is not meant for direct combat. It has no means of self-defense extremely exceeds your regular titan. Despite that, it is still a humongous asset to the team, allowing the transportation of resources. In the file it also states that some sort of artillery was in the works as well. You take note of the past tense used in the file.
It seems like good coordination and proper teamwork is necessary to bring out her full potential in any scenario. With this in mind you intend to get to know Pieck Finger well.
From your minimal interactions with the Warriors, Pieck was the friendliest. You can definitely see why this was assigned to her. Though you wonder what it must be like to be transformed for several days at a time.
Finally, there’s the Colossal Titan.
“A fearsome titan, standing at 60 meters, its transformation alone releases enough heat and energy to mimic a large bomb. While incredibly slow, its size and stature can cause large damage with even an act as simple as walking. Labelled as a ‘God of Destruction’, it should almost never be used within Marleyan territory and allies should be notified of its deployment beforehand. Berdholdt Hoover was chosen for his superior intellect and loyal nature to Marley.”
This one is, by far, the most notorious titan. Its towering size, frightening appearance, and destructive abilities rightfully earned it the title of “God of Destruction.” Even the body heat it generates is enough to be weaponized.
You can’t help but feel sympathy for Berdholdt. The thought of having to stare down at the cataclysmic carnage you can cause by just transforming must be heavy on their consciousness. Having to bear such a large burden and being aware that, at all times, they can kill anyone in their vicinity must be stressful too. You hope they’re taking it well, and make a mental note to check on them when you get the chance.
The last folder on your desk is a briefing on your very first mission. Pieck and Zeke will be sent towards a southern enemy nation---and you were chosen to come with. Almost immediately you picked up on their idea.
Both the Cart and the Beast are lacking in close combat, meaning they plan to test your capabilities as what you could only assume to be a vanguard. The enemy was described as fragile; easy to defeat, a perfect mission to gauge how you’ll work with some of the Warriors.
While the ultimate goal is to topple the nation, the mission you were chosen for is to cripple one of their most populated bases.
“Alongside the three warriors, an early version of the Cart Titan’s battle armor is to be tested. The soldiers designated to the turrets will be no more than placeholders, and are subject to change once a dedicated unit is formed”
The nation remains unnamed in the file.
You feel thankful that your two teammates are the ones that seem to be the best with communication. Though that meant that good coordination and cooperation is an absolute must. If you get on their good side, there’s no doubt that it would make it easier to get closer with the rest of the Warriors.
With a contemplative breath, you steel yourself against your nerves, mentally preparing to leave for your unknown enemy, who’s completely unaware and unprepared for your encroaching attack.
And, for the first time, you feel something far more personal than remorse for Berdholdt Hoover.
⊰══════════⊱
It was the dead of night when you departed. The low hum of the jeep and the cold air lulled you into a sense of tranquility, one that is completely broken whenever you remember your destination.
The carriage’s walls of steel did little to help with the already suffocating atmosphere. It wouldn’t be long until you had to put on a performance that determined your future. As you nervously fidget with your hands, you notice in your peripheral that the other two are oddly still. Their breathing was rhythmic, and they seemed almost zoned out. Without context, you wouldn’t be able to guess that these two were on their way to cripple a government.
They only “seemed” zoned out because as soon as you catch yourself staring, both their eyes dart towards you like cats noticing a spectator.
In a panic you straighten your posture and swivel, now staring at the back of the jeep in the hopes that they didn’t notice.
“Nervous?” A soft voice asks. You feel yourself jolt as you turn to properly meet Pieck’s gaze. You nervously expected an eerie deadpan stare but are pleasantly surprised when you’re instead met with a warm gaze.
“Just wondering, is all.”
“About?” She slouches, propping her chin up on her hand and taking on a much more relaxed position.
You raise your eyebrows; while you knew they weren’t emotionless machines, you never expected one of the Warriors to take interest in your emotions, let alone your thoughts. You smile, hoping to return some of the kindness the girl was showing. The warmth was very much appreciated.
“Our plan, mainly.” You respond, leaning back in an attempt to match her new relaxed posture. “Considering the lack of instructions past our arrival, I’m assuming they’re trying to test how we—or, rather, how I handle missions without directions.”
Pieck nods along thoughtfully, acknowledging your thought process.
“..Have you ever killed someone?” Zeke suddenly chimes in. His tone is ice-cold, in direct contrast to Pieck’s.
“..No.”
He leans forward and turns to face you. His glasses reflect what little moonlight there is, masking his expression as he further presses you.
“We all possess a power that can end the lives of thousands within moments.”
“Right--”
“The men and women you will kill in the name of Marley are those with lives. Lives that ultimately led up to the moment they found themselves on the receiving end of our assault.
He extends his arm, pointing a finger at you.
“Of your assault.”
You squirm in your seat, what was Zeke trying to do? Scare you off of the mission? Make you feel uncomfortable? What was his goal?
“Your point being..?” You pry, trying not to show any signs of unease.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m telling you this not to get under your skin, Tybur. I’m telling you this because you are leaving this mission with blood on your hands, whether it is you that does the killing or us. People will die by your hands today.”
Your chest tightens, he was right. Your goal is to wipe an entire base, packed to the brim with soldiers from an enemy state. There was no way you’d come out of it clean.
“You need to be prepared to take lives in the name of Marley. And some of those lives will be far from guilty; some of which will be no different from ours. At our core, we are only souls that wish to serve our country.”
He takes off his glasses, revealing an expression that you could’ve never guessed. He wasn’t angry, or spiteful. Far from it. His brows were furrowed but his eyes held no malice. He was mournful.
“You need to come to terms with that truth if you plan on staying with us. Otherwise-”
He wipes his glasses, delicately placing them on his face.
“You should scram.”
He turns his head and lays back in his seat, offering nothing but a cold shoulder and putting an end to your conversation.
Zeke once again had a point; it was one that you couldn’t just disregard. Marley often butts heads with other nations, whether it be for resources or military dominance, it was safe to say that the constant conflict shows no signs of stopping. The thought of having to murder in the name of your country bugged you ever since you received your abilities.
A quiet sigh escapes your lips as you contemplate Zeke’s words.
“You should scram.”
They weren’t sharp, but their impact carried meaning. If you couldn’t take one mission, how would you handle fighting against whole nations?
You jolt as a light pat lands on your back. Pieck now wore an understanding smile, surprising you a second time and managing to calm your nerves. You needed to thank this girl properly someday. Words couldn’t express how much you appreciated the warmth she brought. For now, you smile back and settle down. This would be a long trip.
⊰══════════⊱
The vehicle comes to a halt and you follow the rest of the Warriors as they hop out. The jeep had dropped you off near a cliffside overlooking the base, just as the file had said. You hear the engine sputter before shutting down, the second jeep carrying the Cart’s armor following suite.
Zeke groans as he stretches, before adjusting his glasses and putting his hand on both Pieck and your shoulder. “I’ll double check our range from the target to see if we’re out of sight, in the meantime you two should familiarize yourselves with both the temporary unit and with each other.”
Before long Zeke is barely visible, and you are left with Pieck and the soldiers that drove you to your destination.
“Well,” you chime up, hoping to carry the energy Zeke had brought in after the dead silent (and, quite frankly, extremely awkward) road trip.
“My name is Y/N Tybur, a pleasure to work with you all.”
Pieck smiles as she places a hand on her chest.
“Pieck Finger, I hope this mission goes well for all of us.”
In spite of the very ominous task ahead, the girl seems to be calm. Her breathing and expression no different from in the van. It’s obvious that they’ve gone through similar missions before.
“Therese Gils, I will be one of the gunmen for the Cart Titan’s armor.” One of the soldiers says before giving us a warm smile. Gils is an older soldier by the looks of it. His face is more aged compared to the rest. Quite notably his hair, which is combed neatly into a combover, seems to have hints of grey creeping up from the once black stems.
“Edda Huber, at your service!” Another soldier exclaims, jumping out of the second jeep’s front seat. She adjusts her helmet before grinning and throwing an arm over Therese’s shoulder. “I’ll be the second gunman for the armor. We’ll be in your care, Pink!”
“Pieck.” She corrects with a grin.
“Ah, whoops-”
The front seat for our jeep opens as the driver steps out, revealing a tall man with short blond hair. “Ah, introductions?” He clears his throat and adjusts his collar before saluting.
“Conrad Hubber, I will be remaining here and keeping an eye on the situation in case we need backup. I am also in charge of communication. It is a pleasure to work with you-”
“No need to be so tense ‘Rad.” Edda snickers, teasing the blondie for his stiffness. “Drop the flat tone and relax, they don’t bite. Not us, at least.”
“I’m sorry,” she continues “he gets tense with unfamiliar faces.” Edda places a hand on both our shoulders before facing Conrad.
“Pieck. Y/N. They will be our shifters for this mission. Got it?”
Conrad nods, “Understood, thank you.”
“Ugh, there you go again with that formal tone-”
Rusting leaves cuts the conversation short as you all shift your attention to it. Conrad immediately draws his service pistol, checking its safety before approaching.
“It’s me!” Zeke yells before emerging from the shrubbery, swatting off twigs and clingy foliage. “I was forced to take an alternative route since I wanted to scout the perimeter. Now, is everyone here?”
You and Pieck breathe out a sigh of relief as you all lower your guards, moving closer and huddling around Zeke.
⊰══════════⊱
“The structure is just about as the file described. The base is in a rectangular shape, with thick wall surrounding all sides. I spotted no heavy artillery, meaning long range attacks are viable. To the east is the main barracks, since it’s night it’s safe to assume a large portion of them are resting.”
You nod along, creating a mental image of the barracks as you try to follow Zeke’s description.
“Scattered atop the walls are their main defenses. Turrets. Not heavy and it’ll take them a while to arm them, but still capable of dealing notable damage. Nothing else of the base is noteworthy, the rest of the buildings seem to be either storage or garages for vehicles.”
“The terrain is completely flat past the cliff.” Zeke continues, clearing his throat. “The cliff itself is steep, but we can manage a climb down. That is all, any ideas?”
“..We need to focus on the walls.” Pieck states, “After we get rid of them, the rest of the base should fall without issue.”
“Precisely, Pieck!” Zeke exclaims as he extends a finger at Pieck, his stern face completely betraying his loud tone. “Absolutely right.”
“How do you propose we do that?” Therese chimes in, Edda’s hand now once again wrapped around their shoulder.
“We could have Pieck run across the wall, is it thick enough for the Cart to comfortably sprint-”
“No,” you cut off “that will without a doubt attract both their attention and fire towards Pieck. That gives them a clean shot on Pieck, and we don’t know the armor’s effectiveness just yet.”
“Do you have any alternatives?” Zeke asks, back to his regular tone.
“I can infiltrate them. How large is the base give or take?”
Zeke raises an eyebrow; there’s no doubt that he’s conspicuous, but decides to indulge your plan nonetheless. “Nothing beyond your average base, possibly smaller. Roughly 10km long and 5km wide.”
You nod “I can, at the very least, draw their fire and destroy as much as I can. While that happens, you can toss a cluster of rocks at the barracks. I’ll stall for as long as you need, you just need to make sure that the barracks is completely leveled.”
“I’ll transform beforehand and enter after Y/N starts their assault.” Pieck adds, “Both Zeke and I will focus on the troops on the ground, while you focus on the turrets on the wall. Were you able to spot how many there were?” Pieck’s tone is much softer compared to Zeke’s, you can’t help but feel like she gets along with the rest of the Warriors well.
Zeke nods aggressively, making sure to express his approval of Pieck’s contribution. You wonder what it would take to get that level of approval..
“Ten, four on each side then two on the front and the back. With our positioning right now, we’re at it’s east side.”
“Then Y/N and I will start on the right. They will run clockwise along the wall and I’ll focus on the troops in our immediate surrounding as soon as I arrive. Once the barracks are dealt with, start assisting us by focusing your fire on the side opposite to us.”
Zeke takes a while to ponder, furrowing his brows and scratching his chin as he lets out a quiet “Hmm..”After a moment he nods. “Alright, then that’s our plan. Any objections?”
The group takes a moment to look amongst each other. After hearing none, Zeke hums in approval.
“Good, but there’s just one issue-” Zeke adds
Both Zeke and Pieck turn to you.
“Tybur, how do you plan on infiltrating them?”
⊰══════════⊱
Your genius plan felt a little less “genius” with every step you took in the freezing dark. The cold wind was much colder now that your only allies were sitting atop a cliff while you were all alone, walking towards the enemy in nothing but some loose old clothing the soldiers found in the back of the jeep. You had to take off your uniform in order to sell your role as the “weak and abandoned child.” Something the wind made you deeply regret.
“Some great plan this was..” You mutter to nobody in particular, “ ‘It’ll be a great plan guys! I’ll just walk there bare naked and pretend to be a civilian in need!’ I swear all plans sound better in hindsight-”
Suddenly, a blinding light illuminates your body and you raise both hands. “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE HERE?” a booming voice yells, with a hint of an accent you can’t quite pin. You were caught by surprise, the lights only scanned the immediate exterior of the wall. The soldier positioned must have been keen eyed. You let down your guard.
“I-I’m lost! My m-mother abandoned me, I’ve been seeking food and shelter for an entire day!” you yell at the top of your lungs, hoping with your entire heart that they’ll buy your act. You grit your teeth and push fake tears out your eyes.
Silence falls, a part of you thought that you should transform here and now. If they saw through your guise there was no doubt that they’d spray you with bullets-
A gate creaks open as a yellow light comes pouring out. From inside, a soldier in a white uniform exits and your body tenses as you see his stern expression. They’re tall, and will no doubt put up a fight. You slowly lower your arm as you prepare to reach for your knife.
“Come in! Quick! It is cold, young one! It would be a shame if a child dies in front of our lovely base. No?” The soldier chimes, his expression suddenly warming up as he gestures for you to enter. Your arms fall and you breathe a sigh of relief, wiping away your fake tears as you accept the man’s offer.
“While I have yet to see it for myself, I can imagine the corpse of a young one is not good decoration!” The solider lets out a hearty laugh as he leads the both of you further down the tunnel. The interior of the walls are thick. You have no doubt that, had you decided to transform and attack from the outside, you’d struggle to even reach the outermost buildings.
“How far have you traveled, young one?” The solider in white asks, his voice echoing down the tunnel.
“Not too far.” You reply, making sure to keep your posture small. “My mother had abandoned me because she discovered my father was cheating. She wanted both of us gone..”
His shoulders sag and he turns his head just enough to glance at you.
“That is tragic. You have my sympathy.”
His face is aged and his voice is gravely, he is by no means a regular soldier. While grey strands and a wrinkled face tell you he’s old, his physique and stature betrays that description. He’s full of vitality, and fit to boot.
You continue walking, by this time you’ve reached the interior of the base. Looking up you can clearly see the wall that stood between the base and the outside. Glancing at the other troops, you notice their uniforms are differently colored. White doesn’t seem to be a common color amongst them; meaning you were probably being guided by a high ranking official, which confirms your suspicions.
“Ah!”
The soldier straightens his posture, stopping to turn your way.
“You must be hungry! Come, young one. We have plenty of food and water. While you may not stay permanently, you may stay at the barracks for now. They’re-”
“Yes, at the East.” You finish his sentence, stopping a moment too late before realizing your mistake. Both your eyes widen and your heart sinks as he turns to you with his eyebrow raised.
“How do you-”
You take a sharp breath and dash backwards, grabbing your knife and slashing your palm. Yellow thunder crackles then crashes down on the entrance, sending a thunderous crash throughout the base.
⊰══════════⊱
Your heartbeat rang in your ears. You didn’t know what to do first. A part of you was set to check on the soldier, to check if he’s alright, if he’s alive. But there was no time. Glancing around you already saw soldiers beginning to draw their weapons. Before you knew it alarms had already sounded, no doubt waking up the troops in the barracks. You were running out of time.
The Warhammer’s height rendered the wall just shoulder height to you. As you scanned the turrets, there was nobody currently at manning them---meaning you had some time to destroy them before they opened fire.
You open your palm, trying to drown out the sounds of the alarms as you manifest your hammer. Wasting no time, you slammed it down on the wall and began running as fast as you can---each stop bringing a thunderous crash as you began sprinting towards the turrets.
Each turret was thick, no doubt made with steel. Every time you reached one, your sprint would come to an abrupt stop, forcing you to slam your hammer down on the turret.
Soon after your second turret the sound of rocks crashing down rang through the base, Zeke was began his assault as well. It wouldn’t be long until Pieck made it here, and you had only gone through two.
Steeling your nerves, you pick up the pace. You let out a roar and watch as your hammer shrinks and bends, its thick and blunt head shrinking in favor of a sharp and lengthy blade. Your hammer needed you to stop and swing at the turrets, you figured a sword would only need you to slice off the barrels.
Locking onto the next turret, you take your weapon off the wall and aim your strike. With one quick motion the weapon makes quick work of the target, slicing off the barrel and saving you a tremendous amount of effort.
Not long after, you hear the footfall of the Cart Titan. It’s only when you hear it jump and cling onto the opposite side of the wall do you realize just how close Pieck had gotten.
“Three out of ten, Tybur.” Her voice catches you off guard, you forgot the file mentioned a distorted voice.
“Get a hold of yourself and pick up the pace. I’ll cover you, run.”
As if on queue, the soldiers begin firing. Your surprise attack caught them off guard but they had finally began their defense. You watch as Pieck leaps off the wall, crushing a handful of soldiers before lowering her side and letting her turrets finish the job.
Facing forward, your eyes lock onto the next turret. You break out into a mad sprint, determined not to waste any more time. Only issue is, you’re nearing your limit. Each swing needed more and more effort, it wasn’t long before you’d give out.
There were only 3 remaining turrets, two of which were positioned on the very edge of the base.
“You can do this, only a few more-“
An ear deafening shot rings through the air. You watch as the shot whizzes past, barely grazing your left arm and destroying the wall behind you. Steam pours out as your arm begins to regenerate. The turrets were finally up and running, you ran out of time.
Your hardening was sloppy at best. While sturdy, your weapons were barely at the length other Warhammers could use; you were aware of that. You were frustrated with your weakness, but you have to work with what you’ve got.
Closing your eyes, you picture the hardened armor that coated Reiner’s titan. Hard, jagged, yet almost indestructible. Immovable.
Another shot fires from the turret and your arm raises in response. Just as you feel the impact of the bullet you swat it away. Your eyes open to assess the damage only to find that, in it’s place, a white shield was attached to your arm. Spotless and damage free. In one quick motion you leap forward and strike at the turret, watching in satisfaction as your weapon make quick work of the metal contraption.
“One more stretch” you remind yourself. Just two more and it would all be over. You break out into a sprint toward the last few turrets. As you approach you reel your arm back and-
“TYBUR!”
The Cart yells out, it’s distorted voice catching you off guard for the second time today. Glancing towards her, you see her focus has returned to the ground troops. For a moment you wonder if she’s asking for assistance, until you catch something in your peripheral.
You immediately crouch down, scrambling to place your arm above your head as a hail of stone comes crashing down. Much to your surprise, the rocks actually hurt worse than the turret’s fire. Each rock carried enough force to pierce your arm, even with your regeneration you barely had enough stamina as is to hold yourself upright
Your arm begins to hiss and crack and there’s sinking feeling in your chest as you feel your shield give way to the barrage. In no time at all it had dismantled your defenses and began making quick work of what was underneath. There is no escaping it.
Finally on Ao3
SUMMARY: After the spar, Willy shares a word with you about your upcoming plans.
A/N : WHOOPS I'm both absurdly late and I forgot to post it on tumblr. I had both this and chapter 4 ready since last year but a buncha stuff happened so I never got around to posting it cough
My gf says that my writing for chapter 3 and 4 improved so I hope it's more enjoyable!!
Your entire body's sore to the bone. Even if someone lit your pants on fire the only thing you'd be able to do is lay down and hope, which meant that there was no escaping Willy's wrath.
"What. In the world-"
"Listen Will-"
"-Not done!" He interrupts, stopping for a moment to glare at you before resuming his back and forth pacing. Immediately after the sparring you blacked out. The only thing you remember is Willy running toward your rag-dolled body before coming to. Next thing you know, Willy's giving you a lecturing.
"What could've possibly influenced you to go ballistic like that?!" You stop for a moment, choosing your next words wisely.
"Well, you said to prove yourself as the Warhammer so-"
"You went and tried to prove yourself, AS the Warhammer." You nod, looking away as a wave of exasperation washes over his scowl.
He sighs and takes a seat on the grass. Usually Willy is the type of person to be very serious about his appearance, stopping to avoid even the smallest of creases and stains on his suit. Watching him haphazardly sit cross legged on the field tells you that you've given him a shock to remember.
"Well the idea of the sparring match was to have the Warriors figure out who you are as a person so, I suppose this will suffice. You'll earn points for memorability, if nothing else." He jokes, but his wording catch your attention.
"Points?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.
His eyes shift to the right, landing on the Warriors off in the distance. All of them seem to be relaxing in their own way.
Zeke and Marcel are engaged in conversation, both of them heartily taking turns speaking. Reiner and Bertholdt and facing away from you, with Reiner curled into a ball and Bertholdt lightly tapping his back. Annie’s attention is held by a butterfly, and Pieck is laying down on the grass.
"The Warriors have been working together for a while now. Even if they were competing against each other to be chosen, they still know each other better than they do you." His gaze returns to you.
"To them, you're an outlier."
He was right. You've never worked with them a day in your life. Unless you count accidentally breaking Reiner's jaw as "work".
“Look-“
He sighs and immediately you feel your chest tighten. You recognize that tone. Every time he’s had to deliver bad news he sighs and his voice lowers and-
His shoulders sag. The final telltale sign of bad news.
"Whether or not you get to work with them is actually their call."
"I thought I was already enlisted as-"
“Technically, you are. But, as I said, they’ve been working together for a while now. You, on the other hand, haven’t even spoken to them outside of the sparring. Meaning having you with them during missions could jeopardize whatever teamwork they have currently.”
Willy lets out another sigh as he glances behind him. By the way he keeps shifting his gaze you can tell he feels a tinge of guilt for springing the news on you.
"When asked they agreed to you joining on one condition, that they'd hold a sparring to see how you do as a soldier. It was originally meant to be basic hand-to-hand combat alongside some questions but it seems you went a different route."
Your heart drops. You needed to show them that you would be useful but all you did was go off script, break a jaw, and get tackled in the blink of an eye.
"I spoke to them while you were out and they agreed to hold a vote. I requested that you speak to them during the voting process. That should net you one last chance to win them over."
No time for wallowing, you think.
“When will the decision be made?”
“Today. In the next room over.”
Almost instinctually you pull yourself together, clearing your throat and pushing past the fatigue. You feel your head threaten to split open as you stand upright, but comfort comes last right now. If there’s one thing your family has taught you, it’s how to look and act proper when needed.
“..It’ll be in a few hours, relax.” Willy interrupts. You sigh as a wave of relief courses through you. Before you know it your body thuds against the dirt, squeezing out whatever energy you mustered up.
You decide the ground’s comfy enough to rest on until then. It’s good for your back, after all.
The Bloodshed That Keeps Us Alive || Levi Ackerman x Reader
CHAPTER 3: When Nostalgia Fades; Bloodied and Battered
Read chapter 2 here
Read on Ao3
Summary: When old memories surface from a good night's sleep, it fills you with sentiment that results in a short bonding moment with your cousin; it has you thinking of the past with, for once, somewhat of a positive light compared to the complexities of the present.
Unfortunately, a nice start to the day has to end with some violence after assisting Commandant Shadis with training. A soldier doesn't take a liking to you and Levi may or may not agree---it ends with one bruised ego and two blood-covered high-ranking officers.
Word Count: 6,861
A/N: Chapter 3 is finally up!! I had to split this into 2 chapters because it got too long, but also I saw a great opportunity to half it! From now on I'm going to give Levi's POV their own chapters instead of combining their POVs in a single chapter. It makes more sense to me that way, and it means I can play around more with Levi's perspective without thinking about the length and if the transition is smooth enough between shifts in perspectives.
⋆༺𓆩🛡𓆪༻⋆
In the Underground, there’s a lot that people have to get used to.
Filth, hunger, crime, death.
It’s the stench, though—the one that permeates the air, no matter how much money you waste on air fresheners or cheap perfume; it’s always there. You can cover up everything else for a little while, yes, but the smell that’s so distinctly Underground won’t ever leave, as if it’s permanently burned into your nostrils.
The same images greet you while you walk the same path you always do on the way home. The desperate street vendors, the homeless sleeping off their empty stomachs, the pickpocketing children, and even the beggars who are always at their regular spots knowing that deep down, no one down here as anything to spare.
You’ve seen it all growing up in this sewer. Yet still, the malodor remains, its potency stinging your sinuses just how you remember it did when you were younger. The occasional headaches from it are much easier to handle now that you’re used to it, though it’s still difficult for you to ignore. It’s tolerable at best, and only because you know you can never truly get away from it.
At this point you’re not even sure what you’re smelling anymore. You can be in the cleanest house you can find but you’ll still smell it. Something rotten.
You pull the ragged cloak tighter around your arms as you drag your feet through the dirt. It’s not even cold, the fabric just feels nice. Heat is the usual here because even on colder nights, it’s far too cramped, far too unventilated for it to be anything other than uncomfortably humid.
They aren’t here anymore, you think.
And there isn’t enough energy you can muster up to walk a little faster. For the longest time, coming home felt like an opportunity to recharge, get ready for the next day so you can keep yourself alive. Alive for them. If you’re alive, then you can help them stay alive.
They’re gone now, though.
So, what are you home for now? There’s no goal, no purpose. Your rest would mean staying alive another day just to remember that you’re sense of direction is gone. If so, how come you’re still alive?
You’ve earned enough to follow them, and the desperate part of you that wants to is trying to claw itself out from the crevices of your heart. However, committing yourself to surviving in the Underground is not a feat you can achieve without staining your hands permanently red.
You can follow them—but how much of it is because you want to get away from your crimes?
Before you can wallow any further, the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and your eyes rapidly scan the surrounding area. You swear there’s something out of place but you can’t pinpoint it. As if you know there’s a predator nearby, but it’s camouflaged, and you’re left searching for it before you become its next meal.
There’s a cloaked man several feet away, his stride showed confidence and purpose, and it sticks out like a sore thumb among the sea of despair that lingers in the faces of the crowd. Even the toughest of criminals carry some kind of shame behind their brutish demeanor.
The stranger is tall, wearing a hood that covers half of his face, and even if you didn’t notice that he doesn’t quite belong, the cloak around his shoulder’s would have been enough to ring alarm bells in your head. It doesn’t look old or tattered, not like it was bought 2nd hand or stolen, or even picked up from a trash pile.
He’s up to something. No one in the Underground who’s intent on committing a crime ever feels the need to hide it unless they’re paid mercenaries. Robberies, assault, even murder—these are all common here, and most of the time, the people responsible are dressed normally, often acting on their malicious thoughts on impulse.
Even petty thieves know it’ll be easier to steal if their targets don’t anticipate them.
Whoever is trailing you isn’t from around here.
This prompts you to pull your own hood over your head—something you only do when you’re set on hiding your identity. To hell with looking suspicious, at least the people down here won’t see who’s getting stalked, which means it won’t make you a target once it’s all over.
The less people take interest in you, the better.
Especially because you’ve dealt with enough criminals to know that this man is not a criminal.
You recognize the boots he wears, the rigid posture—the walk of a seasoned soldier.
The Underground is a dangerous place, but most of its residents learn that the best way to live is to tune out every reason to die.
This man looks too wary; clearly not used to the land of the sewers. He’s alert and aware of his surroundings like a wanted felon. Everyone who’s eve lived here knows the dangers like the back of their hand. There’s no need to be hyperaware if it’s already become muscle memory.
He’s one of them, you’re sure. One of the people who took them away—and now their eyes are set on you.
You take a sharp left turn into an alley that leads to a dead end, climbing the walls using the pipes and the bricks that stick out, successfully pushing yourself over to the other side of the wall.
It’s not a big fall but it’s enough to knock the wind out of you despite the good landing.
You don’t wait to catch your breath before you start running again, taking the complicated routes you know to get home, constantly going into dead ends just to put more distance between you and your pursuers.
It’s odd.
You don’t hear anything at all. No ODM hooks hitting the walls, no heavy foot falls.
They don’t seem to be chasing you, but it doesn’t put you at ease just yet. If anything, a part of you is worried they’ve figured out where you live and chose to wait for you there to make their arrest.
Despite this, though, you continue on your way home, ditching the alleys and taking the main roads instead, constantly looking over your shoulder. You figured that going to open areas will even the playing field since the buildings are farther apart than if you were in cramped spaces.
It’s not foolproof, since the Underground is narrow to begin with. “Open roads” just means more time for their ODM hooks to latch onto a wall and time for you to run.
When the trip back to your place ends up being harmless the rest of the way, you try shaking off the weird, prickly feeling on the back of your neck and even out your breathing. You didn’t notice how tense your shoulders were until the keys in your hands start to clink together from the little twitches of your hand, the muscles growing too weak and too strained to properly steady itself.
Inhale, exhale.
The keys click into place after several attempts, and you swing your door open.
⋆༺𓆩🛡𓆪༻⋆
You’re hit with a wave of nostalgia then your feet hit the floor of Erwin’s office. Your mind gifted you with a trip down memory lane in your sleep, and it’s making you slightly sentimental about the man sitting behind his desk.
It feels almost strange to watch him work so diligently—perhaps it’s because it looks eerily like the image that greeted you right before you woke up today. That was when your life truly changed; with a man so devoted to his work that he crawled the depths of the sewers just to hunt down some criminal who’d never seen the sky.
“I hope you don’t mind being excluded in the expedition—the one before the 104th’s graduation.”
Erwin is straight to business as usual, and you hum in acknowledgement as you close the door behind you, situating yourself on the chair in front of his desk. “It’s not really my call,” you sigh. “But can I ask why? I thought you’d want me out there as soon as possible to get experience or something.”
He shakes his head no while he opens a folder, writing what you think are reports. “It’s too soon.” The scratching of pen and pencil is unmistakable in the thick silence of the room, making you lean back into your chair to get comfier. The tension is unfamiliar between you both, especially behind closed doors where you can be a little bit more lenient with your dynamic.
However, since your delightfully attentive cousin’s mind is working on several things at once, you’re happy to wait for him to talk, even if he bares his usual snobbish aura. “If we want your mission to succeed, you must get acquainted with your environment and the 104th.”
You lean back on your chair and pick at the edge of the arm rest. “I don’t think it’s that pertinent to the mission.” Your eyes follow the languid flow of ink that flows from his pen, wondering how much time it has left before it runs out. “The networks, the connections, everything you need—I have,” you remind him. “That’s why I’m here, right?”
He keeps working, not even sparing you a glance, but you know he’s listening despite the absent look in his eyes with every nod of acknowledgement. Sometimes you think that you can ask him the most absurd questions and he’ll agree without a second thought. Maybe you should ask for a personal horse to get you around town—or maybe a custom uniform.
“Erwin,” you call out. Your gaze is fixated on him as you lean forward. “Don’t overthink this. You’ve trained me for expeditions, so let me go on them.”
The pleading tone in your voice is obvious with every electric pulse of excitement that reaches your fingertips. The thought of going outside the Walls has always invigorated you—after all, this is what you’ve been training for. It’s the second part of your mission.
Countless sleepless nights and full-body aches from hours-worth of training after hours-worth of sleuthing and conniving against the military government has all built up to this.
He sets his pen aside along with the documents on the table and finally giving you his full attention. He visibly relaxes as he leans back in his chair, thick eyebrows furrowing as he contemplates your request.
You let his silence take over the room as you wait with bated breath. It’s not unusual for him to deny your wishes but sometimes—most of the time—you’re able to sway him. Though, unfortunately, it’s not usually regarding things involving your jobs or missions.
Despite your fairly close relationship, though, you don’t dare act too unprofessional. He’s still your Commander, but sometimes, maybe more often than that, you miss the friendly, almost familial banter between you both.
Erwin Smith can easily be persuaded if you act like an annoying little sibling sometimes—it’s why you think Hange and him get along so well compared to others.
You think the dream you had might have given you a major hit of nostalgia. Times were undoubtedly simpler back then. The darker tones of life, the vile colours of the sewer-life community, was just easier on the mind. You survive or you don’t.
Above ground, you were thrown into a life full of complexities made up of noblemen and their multitude of affairs, military-run governments, illegal spy-work on your end curtesy of the Survey Corps Commander, etc.
So of course, working with him has been a constant in your life. You found the closest thing to a family with Erwin, unexpectedly so, which means you’ve gained the privilege of pestering him and pushing his buttons whenever you want to get your way.
He rescued you, yes, but by no means did he make your life easier. You hated him at first, associating him with the people who took your people away, but in the end, the mutual benefits of working together won you over. You had no choice but to grow fond of the stern but oddly welcoming man.
You’ve definitely earned the right to annoy him. If not for you, a lot of his plans for the Survey Corps would not have come to fruition.
“No,” he shakes his head, and you slump back down on your chair with a childish huff and an equally childish pout, to which he gives you a look akin to a disappointed dad. “You need to stay here and oversee the graduating soldiers. You may have succeeded in the first part of your mission, but here, I only want you to get along with everyone else.”
To your surprise, he slowly drops the stiff, Commander tone and offers you a small, gentle smile. “You’re not a spy here, Y/N. You’re not pretending to be a member of the Survey Corps. You are one of us. You’re a soldier now. Which means I want you out there when you’re ready and can work well with the rest. You’ll go on expeditions at the same pace as the 104th.”
The finality in his voice is one you recognize and have learned to trust with your life, though you have to admit, you have tested the limits on how well you can try to persuade him into doing what you want.
This particular monologue of his had you unprepared, however. His usual commanding words were accompanied by a softness you rarely see, much less expect him to have when he’s quite literally telling you, as your Commander, that you are not to join the expedition.
Perhaps he may not be saying it purely as your superior. Or maybe that’s the nostalgia talking. Either way, you can’t really argue with it.
With a groan of defeat, you mutter a small ‘fine’ with an expression you think is comparable to a toddler who was denied candy.
“So,” he begins, shifting forwards so he can lean with his elbows on his desk. “You’re more comfortable with Captain Levi than I anticipated.”
It’s a statement, not a question. You’ve known Erwin long enough that the fact that his eyebrows are as expressive as they are right now can only mean he’s prying you for information.
If you ever tell anyone that the Commander loves to dabble in gossip from time to time, well, they’d have a heart attack.
You huff, giving him an exasperated—but very amused—look, hoping that maybe, if he senses the slight embarrassment, he’ll let it go.
He holds his ground, though, and he keeps staring at you with those ridiculously bushy brows of his raised, as if he’s expecting you to lay down all your cards just because he told you to—indirectly, as well.
Erwin taps his desk with his fingers. “He said something about how you were too comfortable challenging his authority.” He waves it off. “But that’s only the censored version.”
You have to admit, seeing him like this in his uniform inside his office? It’s a little…out of place. Usually, his sillier side is saved for outside Survey Corps buildings and duties, since he has a reputation to uphold.
But apparently, childish gossip about you is an exception, so you give into his whims.
“Fineee,” you whine, though your tone remains flat—you’re not trying to give him any more ammunition. “I know Levi.”
His eyebrows twitch in what you think is surprise, but he also nods, as if he was expecting this information. Somehow his focus on you intensifies and his stare becomes more than curious—he’s probably scheming.
You’re quick to clarify things, though, crossing your arms and snorting. “But he doesn’t know me. I’ll tell you more only if you promise not to tell him.” The hint of desperation in your voice is embarrassing—similar to what one would feel if they have to beg their sibling to keep their mouth shut.
Still, not much of a response from him other than a nod and a familiar smirk.
“I’ve known him since Kenny.” It’s barely above a whisper, and you have trouble keeping eye contact. You can’t help but bounce your knee up and down as well when you recall your past. “Kenny knows me, too. And I made a promise to him a long time ago—about Levi.”
Erwin sits up straighter and you know you’ve caught his interest; beyond what he was originally expecting. He’s a clever motherfucker. He’s probably planning something about this now—you wouldn’t be surprised if you and Levi start seeing each other more frequently.
“Hey!” you snap your fingers in front of his face and he chuckles, leaning back on his chair once again. “No telling Levi! It’s not like I expected to see him again after I got out of there.”
He holds his hands up in surrender, though is expression is telling you that he’s more entertained than threatened. “I won’t, I won’t.” Despite the unexpectedly casual conversation, the bravado in his voice remains, still sounding like a Commander. “I always hoped you and Levi would work together,” he hums, staring at his desk thoughtfully. “This might just mean my gamble will pay off.”
When he makes eye contact with you again, there’s a mischievous glint somewhere behind those irises. It almost makes you want to shiver from fear—a plotting Erwin is a disturbing Erwin.
“That stupid gambling addiction of yours,” you mutter. There’s a scowl on your face, though you think it might come off as more of a bratty pout than anything else. It infuriates you how Erwin manages to pull out your childishness. “I think it’s clear your little Captain hates my guts so I’m not sure how right you are about that.”
He snickers, but his eyes soften to a more reassuring smile, giving you a look into that rare warmth that you doubt anybody in the Corps has seen—with the exception of Hange and Levi, maybe. “Has it not benefitted you?”
“Once!” you quip. “It paid off once.”
“And those experiments of yours?” The depth of his voice, when paired with his ridiculous teasing, is the bane of your existence.
“That’s science!” you exclaim, arms waving around the air as if you can’t comprehend the absurdity of his question. “Not gambling!”
You and Erwin get lost in the silliness of the moment, laughing almost uncontrollably; almost, because you’re reminded by the occasional distant footsteps outside to remain professional.
Clearing your throat, you calm your breathing down, relishing in the warmth in your chest from the rare moment of peace before you move on to a different topic. “Oh yeah! Speaking of—I’m working on a new chemical of sorts. For combat.”
The Commander perks up at the news. “For the Survey Corps?”
You nod ambitiously, recalling how far you’ve come at developing it. “I just need one more thing,” you conclude—it’s your turn now to look mischievous.
His eyes narrow, knowing well enough that once your ambition is mixed with that sly, devilish expression, that there’s something you want; something so ludicrous that he’ll have to rethink his position has Commander now that you’re working under him.
You get everything you want—you always do, one way or another.
“Titans.”
For a second, Erwin looks completely horrified by the implications, but the expression doesn’t remain—two cadets knock on his door, announcing that they were ordered to deliver reports to his office.
The Commander lets them in and dismisses you, but not before sending you a wary look, to which you respond by merely winking back, purposely hidden from the two people in the room right as you step out and close the door behind you.
⋆༺𓆩🛡𓆪༻⋆
When you were told that you’d be teaching basic emergency first aid training for the graduating cadets, you were expecting an experience resembling that of trying to prepare for an incoming hurricane.
While many of them are adults who’d volunteered to join the Corps, unfortunately, most of them are children—majority being under 18 years of age.
You’ve been around several types of people due to the nature of your job, but you’ll have to admit that teaching a group of kids first aid would not be something you’d list as one of your expertise.
However, you know the urgency of this class, and as far as you can tell, Erwin has yet to hire anyone with as much medical experience as you—ignoring the fact that you aren’t really a medical doctor.
You’ve dabbled enough in medicine, though, especially emergency medicine. So that has to count for something, right?
Fortunately the class ended up going as well as you had wanted it to. Most people seemed wary of your presence since you’re a new face—some were hell-bent on showing off, some were on the shier side.
But most wanted to learn, which you weren’t surprised by. Everyone knows what happens outside the walls even if they’ve never been.
There had been some bickering here and there, mostly with the younger children, but you learned that if you ignored it or politely acknowledged it, they tend to shut up quickly out of fear—you think that Shadis and Levi may have instilled some trauma.
Speaking of, right now, they’ve moved on to hand-to-hand combat. It’s Shadis’ turn to teach them and you were welcomed to sit in and watch—the retired commander even suggested you join, his words coated with sarcasm since he knows you’ve had your fill of training under Erwin.
There aren’t any other things on your schedule today aside from the first-aid class. Your experiments are obviously waiting for you in your lab, but you decided it was nicer to be around the budding soldiers—plus, you get to see how Keith Shadis teaches, which will serve you well when it’s time for you to head more projects and classes, since Erwin has made it clear that you should share your knowledge with the others.
You have to admit you have a soft spot for the younger ones. They’re too young to be in the business of titan-killing, and you can only imagine what they had to see and go through for them to decide that it’s worth risking their lives to help turn your depressing world around.
If you can help keep them breathing even just a day longer, then you’d be happy. They should be dreaming of their future; not dreading that they won’t get to have one.
That experience is familiar for you, too, except you’ve reached adulthood without ever knowing what you could have dreamt of as a child. Life just sort of…happened to you.
And you’re not sure if it’s worth risking your life for a noble cause at such a young age, or growing up and looking back, realizing that the age where you should have dreamt of building a life has past you.
Of course the former is much more gruesome—you’re clearly one of the luckier ones. However, sometimes you get to thinking: would it feel better to die with a purpose or live without it?
The purpose of your life, for you, shifted a few times throughout the years, but again, it happened to you, and you’re lucky that it kept you going for this long. Long enough to watch the next generation of soldiers, help them train to survive longer—there’s a calmness in knowing you’d be out there with them, too.
“Commandant Shadis, I think their stances can be improved—” Just as you’re about to make some adjustments, especially with how they can use it to easily propel themselves with their ODM, an older Scout approaches.
He stands confidently next to you and Shadis, off to the side but still in front of every cadet, as if trying to make a show of it all. You brace yourself. You’ve seen enough people like him to know what’s to come.
The stranger scoffs. “Stop trying to change things that aren’t broken. People outside the Corps shouldn’t be telling us what to do—especially not some Mitras bitch.”
The Commandant scowls, grumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t make out, but he approaches the man, calling out his name harshly. ‘Scholz’ is his name.
“Did I ever teach you to speak to you superiors that way?!” Shadis barks, pointing a finger at him sternly, looking like he’s about to burst a vein. “Apologise to Representative L/N this instant!”
Suddenly, a voice cuts through the air, the only one who can somehow steal the spotlight from the Commandant despite his lower ranking and quieter voice. “Aside from the name calling, I think Scholz is right.” Levi walks up behind the older Scout. “I don’t think someone who’s never lived outside the richest city should tell the most underfunded government regiment what to do. It could cost us lives.”
Keith Shadis sighs, putting a hand on his forehead in exasperation. He glances at the cadets who are obviously listening intently; those kids barely see anything interesting, so they must find this a good source of entertainment.
There’s the Scout who’s obviously enjoying the attention and validation from his Captain, then there’s Shadis who just wants to do his job, and of course, the newly arrived Levi, who’s stirring the pot for shits and giggles.
You know he has a point to prove, but it’s all unnecessary—he’s being dramatic, you think. Taking it all out of proportion just to cause a scene that’ll get a rise out of you, so that maybe, he can show Erwin and Shadis that you aren’t fit to be here.
All while hiding behind the veil of wanting the best of the cadets. Though, when you think about it more, you doubt he’s actually trying to hide. There’s some truth to their point, that’s for sure.
“Captain Levi, I believe Erwin has told you her credentials—her input is valuable, I’m sure.” While you appreciate the Commandant’s support and approval, you still step forward and place your hand on his arm reassuringly before letting it go with a polite smile and a nod.
“Thank you, Commandant,” you say, then face Levi and Scholz. “But I’m sure Captain Levi has a point to all of this. I’m certain there’s something else you want to say, Captain.”
There’s no bite to your words, but there is a hint of challenge.
And you think Levi catches onto it when the corner of his mouth twitches up in interest. “Spar with Scholz.” He gestures to the man next to him, who looks utterly terrified for a moment before resolving to a smug, slightly wavering smirk. “If Erwin and Shadis are right, then you should kick his ass easily. Use the shit you were trying to teach earlier if you really want to prove yourself.”
Just before the Commandant can argue, you hold up a hand to stop him, silently saying that you’ve got the situation handled. “I think the Captain is right. Why not?” You give Scholz your friendliest smile. “It’s about time I start moving after being idle for so long. What do you think?” you ask the Scout, already starting to do your stretches, both to prepare yourself and to intimidate. Though it does feel a little ridiculous.
In all honesty, you aren’t really trying to show off to Scholz or the cadets. You’ll prove yourself outside the walls; when your skills matter, where they’re needed. Right now, though, you just want to push Levi’s buttons a tiny bit more.
Despite his brave face since he interrupted your conversation with Shadis, Scholz still had it in him to look at the Commandant for permission. The retired Commander, albeit reluctantly, gives him the approval that everyone seems to be waiting for, and Scholz takes a step forward, copying you by showing off his own stretches.
You walk so that you’re about sparring distance from him before you look to Levi. “Are we allowed real hits?”
He shrugs, stepping back to give you and your opponent space, with Shadis doing the same. “If you can manage.”
“Hey, hey, wait—” Suddenly, the Scout is peddling back. “I can’t actually hit a lady; I’ll pull my punches, don’t worry—”
He lets out a loud groan when your fist connects with the side of his face, the impact loud enough that the cadets seem to flinch at the sound. Despite your focus being elsewhere, though, you still hear Levi chuckle.
“No need to pull punches, Scholz,” you quip, but there’s not a lot of time to be smug when he gets up, anger clear on his face, and charges at you. You put your dominant food forward, your hands in front of you and bent at the elbows so you’re protecting the sides of your head. Your palms are open and relaxed with your chin tucked in.
You sidestep quickly, letting the man stumble before you’re stepping back, turning around and sweeping him off his feet with on leg. Instead of pinning him down, you let him regain composure.
It would be sad to get this over with so fast.
When he charges again, you evade just as speedily, but this time he doesn’t stumble. He turns and tries to land a punch that you effectively block with your forearms. Scholz steps to the side when you try to punch back and he grabs your hand, attempting to twist, but you catch him off guard when you kick his stomach roughly.
He manages to plant his feet and lunge forward, grabbing you by your throat. In no time you slam your arms downwards by the crook of his elbows and they bend, his hold notwithstanding the blow—you don’t attack, you let yourself be open to see what he’ll do next.
His leg swings from the side in a roundhouse kick, you duck, then he tries to land two punches. You evade them once again, but on his second hit, you catch his fist once it’s past your face, freezing his whole arm for a split second before you land an elbow strike to his nose.
A sickening crunch is heard and you know you’ve broken it, so for his sake, you decide to end the fight. You grab his arm again and you move so that you’re in front of him, holding his arm outward.
You step forward so your leg is just behind his and you sweep back, toppling him almost on his back, if it isn’t for your hold on his arm and elbow. You turn your body so he’s behind you on your back, his arm slung around your shoulder which you support the joint of with your other hand, then your twist your hip, sending him over your body and down to the ground.
When a loud thud is heard, you walk forward and lean so you’re right above his face, which is upside down from your point of view. You tilt your head at him, then stand straight to face your Captain. “He wasn’t lying. He really can’t hit a lady.”
You can hear victory bells ringing in your head when he has to face away from you, seemingly in disapproval of your disrespectful joke—you see it, though. The slight upward quirk of his mouth. He’s trying not to at least chuckle.
You shake your head slightly in amusement before turning back to your opponent and extending a hand to help him up, but he doesn’t accept. Scholz gets up on his own and dusts himself off, scoffing before walking away with the tips of his ears turning pink and his gait much less confident than it was before.
Levi calls him back, clearly irritated, but you stop him. “It’s fine; they don’t fight humans, anyway.” That’s all you say, sending a sympathetic smile to Scholz’s way despite knowing he won’t see.
Whatever truce you and him had during the fight—the kind where you’re both in agreement of something, which is that Scholz sucks at fighting—it breaks when he looks back at you and crosses his arms. “He’s obviously shit. If we want a better example, you should fight me instead if you want to prove something.”
Shadis immediately says no, but Levi counters it by saying that Erwin would agree, especially if it’s for educational reason. “L/N was right earlier, with their stances. The one she used with Scholz is much better. I’d say she uses it against me.”
You smile politely at the Commandant, not even out of breath. “The Commander would agree, sir.”
As usual, he agrees, but he looks more tired than you’ve seen him, even after yelling at the cadets all day. He doesn’t say anything, just grunts in agreement before waving you off and standing back much farther than he did compared to your spar against Scholz.
It made you grin and look back at Levi, amused. You expected him to smirk but all he gives you is a deadpan look when he gets into position; the stance he uses is exactly like yours, and it seems practiced.
You wonder why he never bothered to adjust the cadet’s stances if he uses the same one you do.
Levi punches twice with the same hand and you manage to block them despite having no warning—all that you got was the quick whooshing sound of his hand moving through the air. With your slight tumble backward, he kicks and you move your arm to block his shin.
Goddamn, you think. His kicks are hard as fuck.
You lunge to punch him but he ducks down and elbows your rib, making you fall to the ground with a grunt. At least you know he’s not holding himself back; you’ll have bruises there tomorrow.
He waits for you to get up but he doesn’t do so for long, since you’re upright quick and punch twice. He ducks, and the split second it takes him to right himself you’re already kicking his stomach.
It lands. But he grabs your ankle as he stumbles and he twists—not wanting to injure yourself, you go with the momentum and let yourself drop. You prop yourself up on your elbow and kick the side of his leg hard enough that he loses balance.
Levi doesn’t fall but it’s enough for you to jump up and tackle him. He spins both of you around so that you’d fall below him but you anticipated it, so you both land on your sides.
He manages to overpower you and now he’s on top, pulling his fist back and landing a punch, but you block it with your arms. You raise your legs and wrap them around his hips, grabbing his shoulders and pushing—using your hips as leverage you manage to roll to the side, effectively pushing him off of you.
Wasting no time you elbow him on his face, but he ducks and punches your stomach twice; the second one landing right where he hit your rib. It sends a spike of pain through you that you can’t conceal as you yell in pain, but you don’t fall.
Instead, you wait for him—he’s about to lunge, and he did, so you evade and once his back is to you, you elbow the back of his ribs and he grunts. Quickly, he turns and punches you in the face—it lands, you’re starting to slow because of the pain on your ribs.
He moves to send you into an arm lock but you manage to counter it and land a hard kick to his other rib, Levi grabs your leg again and succeeds in throwing you down, this time on your stomach.
Huffing, you feel him pin your arms down behind you, thinking you’re about to lose.
But it appears he thinks that you’ve given up; his hold isn’t as tight. You break your arms free and roll on your back, punching the side of his face. You go for another hit but he catches it, his free hand’s knuckles connecting with the side of your face.
It subdues you enough that he’s able to take hold of your wrists and put them above your head—the sudden position makes your stomach drop, memories flashing in your mind, so instinctively, you spit on his face. Levi flinches in disgust and it’s enough of a distraction, so you headbutt him and kick his stomach.
He flies backwards and you move to lunge at him—
“Stop!” Shadis marches towards both of you and orders that you both stand up properly, which you do. “I think they get the point.” The only reason you think he’s not losing his mind right now is because you’re obviously both very respectable in your field.
You rub your wrists so soothe them, meanwhile, Levi curses under his breath as he wipes his face with his shirt.
To your surprise, however, he’s not overly angry at you. You’ve heard he’s a clean freak. Instead, he looks suspicious and even more wary of you than he was before. The expression disappears as quickly as it came, though.
“You were reckless,” he seethed, teeth grinding against each other as he looks at you with piercing eyes. “If I had a weapon, I could’ve killed you if you tried that shit in real life. Playing dirty doesn’t always mean you get out of danger.”
You chuckle humourlessly. “I have tried,” you mutter. Your eyes meet, though your expression is more tired than aggressive. “I haven’t been killed yet,” you shrug.
When you glance at the cadets, their facial expressions are all a mix of being impressed and horrified that they’d just seen a real fight. Despite being soldiers, you’re not sure if they’ve ever been exposed to this level of human violence before, especially with individuals as trained as you and Levi.
While you don’t think your fight was all that show-stopping, you do agree that Levi is incredibly quick—much faster than you, and definitely with a lot more endurance for pain. You can’t imagine how fast he could be on ODM.
You pride yourself in speed and timing when it comes to combat—both with gear and without, so you can commend Levi that he gave you a run for your money. Had Shadis not stopped you both, you swear you would’ve gotten your ass handed to you within a minute.
At least this way you can pretend it’s a stalemate, for no other reason than to make Levi think someone could’ve stood a chance against him. While you doubted it would be reciprocated, you dust yourself off and extend a hand toward the Captain.
Levi stares, but accepts it, and his hand is finally in yours.
His hands are calloused, but still soft. You’re not sure if that’s because his grip is surprisingly gentle of it’s because he probably washes them so much out of habit.
You’re both looking disheveled with blood and bruises spotting your faces, but you can’t help the tired grin on your face. “That was nice, Captain,” you express, completely out of breath but proud you manage to hold your own against him. He’s deserving of his titles, you think. “Technically, we’re at a stalemate, but I would’ve lost had it gone on for longer.”
Oh how easy it is to let go of pettiness sometimes. His hand in yours made you reconsider if you really want him to think you’re on his level—not when he’s so deserving of the unreachable league he’s currently in.
He huffs and lets go of your hand. “You’re filthy; get yourself cleaned up.” That’s all he says before he walks away. “Not bad. But try not to get your spit on me next time.”
The Captain doesn’t even turn around; he knows you’re listening.
Shadis walks up to you, his eyes set on the cadets before they land on you. “Everyone,” he calls out, and you immediately see the budding soldiers straighten their backs and fix their positions—almost by instinct. “Let this teach you never to undermine authority,” he barks.
Despite everything that happened after Scholz left, the Commandant still look pretty hung up on the impudent soldier.
He faces the rest of the future graduates and glances at you from the corner of his eye. “…Unless you’re Representative L/N.” You can sense the hint of humour in his tone, but it’s still mostly serious, which makes you worry that the cadets might take that a little too seriously; you’re not sure if you want that reputation after Scholz.
If that isn’t flattering and embarrassing enough to make your cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink though, then you’re doomed the moment you spot Erwin in the distance with a giddy Hange next to him.
You wouldn’t be reprimanded for egging Levi on.
Worse, you’d be endlessly teased and interrogated. Hange, you can handle, but your cousin—you might need a second to prepare yourself for.
Whatever Erwin thinks he knows about your history with Levi is harmless at best. Deep down, though, he’s a meddler once he sets his mind on something.
And there’s definitely something brewing in that brain of his, especially now that you’ve indirectly proven to him that a potential partnership with Levi would be to the benefit of the Corps.
Summary: There are things you refuse to use your vital instrument for; despite how powerful it might be, reading people's minds are just out of the question.
Sometimes, though, you can't help yourself, and maybe for that reason, a misunderstanding ensues; maybe it's because Zanka struggles with balancing his training with a relationship.
Either way, it shouldn't interfere with anything, right? Especially not when your lives are on the line?
Word Count: 17,910
A/N: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG Y'ALL. I was working on it pretty consistently until I got hospitalized because a two-week asthma attack made me teeter on the edge of respiratory failure. BUT I PROMISE I worked on this fic with an I.V in my hand 🫡.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
No Man’s Land is the kind of place filled with death and debris—lifeless, poisonous, and, most of the time, dangerously silent. The kind that provokes you to call out to someone in hopes of hearing something back to fill the deceiving quiet that spans who knows how many miles.
However, when trash beasts come alive, the vast sea of rubble becomes a violent war zone bursting with light and exploding metal scraps.
Today is no exception.
Team Akuta usually has no problem with taking care of these physics-defying creatures, but when the going gets tough, even the strongest team of Cleaners struggle.
They’re all spread around the mountains of rough, metal-filled terrain, busying themselves with a barrage of trash beasts that seemingly have no send to them. When one gets killed, another one rises up from the bottom of the heap to take its place—sometimes more than one, which gives them no choice but to go against several at the same time.
The problem lies not within their skill-set nor the strength and size of the beasts, but rather within the limitations of their human capabilities. They might all be highly-trained Givers but they also have a respiratory system that needs to breathe every once in a while.
“Where’s this shit coming from?!” Zanka’s voice echoes through the air, reaching for no one in particular, yet unsurprisingly, Enjin as yet to lose his usual conversationalist mood.
“We’ve seen worse!” he shouts back slamming his Umbreaker right in the middle of a trash beasts head. It crumbles easily, shaking the surrounding piles of rubble, the broken parts of the once-living creature raining down with sharp thuds on the ground.
From several feet away, Riyo grunts as she cuts the head off of another, using it as a leverage to jump and attack a different beast. “Are you sure about that, Enjin?!” she groans. She’s not usually one to complain, having enough stamina to singlehandedly take down multiple without breaking a sweat.
This mission, though, is testing not just her, but the rest of Team Akuta.
It’s made obvious by the big metal tail whipping towards Tomme and Follo, who have no other choice but to run seeing that it’s absolutely impossible for any one of the Cleaners to get to them fast enough.
There had been no one to watch over the Supporters due to the sheer amount of powerful trash beasts that’s been overwhelming them for longer than they can keep up with.
Luckily, right before the monstrous hunk of rubble manages to make contact, it explodes into a million pieces, making Tomme and Follo duck behind their arms to brace themselves for the oncoming storm of fragmented junk that would’ve caused its own set of physical damage.
The scraps, however, bounced off of an invisible force field that rippled upon impact mere inches away from the two, creating a resonant, booming noise while their surroundings warp for a moment, clearing up with the end of the pseudo-trash-storm.
You land in front of them, mask on your face and your headphones secured over your ears. The protective barrier disappears just as you approach them. “You guys alright?”
Before they could respond, the unmistakable sound of Enjin’s voice echoes through No Man’s Land. “You’re late!!!”
“You know I have a tight schedule,” you yell back, using your jinki to jump into the air, landing right on top of a trash beast. “Besides, I went here straight after my mission with Team Child!!”
As the monster tries to shake you off, you kneel down and hold on tight. The beast screeches, feeling the vibrations travel from your hand, increasingly getting louder the more you concentrated.
You can hear clanking and rattling as it shakes from the inside out, it’s stability getting compromised. After just a few seconds, it explodes into a thousand pieces—you’re second kill within ten minutes of arriving at the scene.
Over your shoulder, you see Riyo just as you land gracefully back on the ground. “Zanka?” you ask, and she points to where your boyfriend is, holding his Lovely Assistaff as he fights off a beast on his own.
You can’t stop the smile that grows on your lips and the red-haired Giver rolls her eyes. “Gross,” she mutters, but you know she meant for you to hear it. You only roll your eyes; of course, even in the middle of a fight, she still finds the time to judge you and your love life.
The rest of the trash beasts get cleared shortly after your arrival, as your vital instrument is powerful enough to withstand even the most exhaustive activities. Because your talents are good for both long and short ranged fights, you can take out several trash beasts in a matter of minutes.
Most Givers have to be very agile and physically combative because of the way their jinkis work, however, due to the nature of your headphones and the way you can use it to manipulate soundwaves, it doesn’t require you to move around as much as the others.
In No Man’s Land, where there’s an abundance of noise from trash beasts and the Cleaners, the more sound you can amplify and use against your opponents; as long as you never run out of it, you can fuel your instrument—and in the off chance you have to fight in complete silence, you can always make sound.
It’s not without cost, however, as soon after the intensive back-to-back missions, you’re energy has depleted to the point where you collapse on your hands and knees, completely out of breath. Your headphones might be a force to reckon with but it still required a large amount of control and concentration on your end.
Two consecutive missions were not the plan for this week. But when Guita and Dear asked you to come with them because they missed you, well, how could you say no to that?
Bro was nice enough to insist that you don’t have to come with due to your schedule at No Man’s Land with your team, but you simply could not fathom the pleading eyes of your two favourite Givers, even though Dear may have looked a little less enthused than Guita. You know he loves you. He’s just grumpy.
In the end, Bro appreciated the help. It must not be easy having to wrangle up to kids—once the fighting is done, they revert back to their unfocused, child-like selves as if they never fought beasts twenty times their size.
When you see a flash of blue in the corner of your eye, you straighten up and immediately dust yourself off, calling out excitedly. “Zanka!” You waste no time engulfing him in your arms when you practically throw yourself at him. “I missed you,” you mumble, snuggling into the crook of his neck, feeling all the tension leave your body when his arms snake around your waist.
Despite the chunky masks on your face, everything feels warm and comfortable.
One of his hands rests itself on the back of your head as he caresses your hair softly, squeezing you a little tighter for the briefest of moments as he hides his face in your tresses—god forbid anyone sees Zanka all soft for anyone, even if half his face is literally covered.
“I missed ya too, princess.” He pulls away, brushing off some dust you got on your face. “But ya look like shit.”
Though the mask covered it, he recognizes those eyes you make when you pout and he shushes you before you can argue otherwise. “I told you not to take back-to-back missions,” he grumbles, though his tone is gentle.
The pout on your face is immediate, but Zanka hushes you before you could argue otherwise.
A wave of exhaustion washes over you, and after several hours of constant fighting, the day finally takes is toll. Your eyes are now too heavy to keep open and instinctively, you lean your head against his chest.
The thumping of his heart is enough to lull you to sleep faster than your boyfriend can steady you in his arms.
Enjin clicks his tongue as Team Akuta gathers around, getting ready to head back. “I’d hate to break up your canoodling but if you stay there here too long, you two won’t be able to get a room other than the infirmary.”
When the snickering from his team members echo around him, Zanka’s cheeks turn a slight shade of pink, and he realizes he has to wake you up a little to offer a piggy back ride once they start walking; you sleepily agree but make no further movements.
It dawns on your boyfriend that you’re completely drained—too drained that you won’t be able to cling onto him during the journey to the car, so, he decides that he’s got enough energy to carry you in his arms until the low humming of the engine can give you better rest.
As you drifted off into a deeper sleep, several voices can be heard inside your head, overlapping each other in a cacophony of sound you couldn’t identify. Your hand leaves its gentle hold on Zanka’s collar and, with an annoyed scrunch of your nose, take off your headphones, leaving them hanging on your neck at a weird angle.
Your consciousness escapes you quickly as soon as the talking stops and a deep calmness wash over your body—all you can hear now are the muffled sounds of your teammates discussing whatever.
Before you’re completely out, you hear a soft mutter—
“You’re one badass princess, princess”
And then a pair of soft lips are on your temple.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The next few days went by uneventfully, with Enjin ordering a halt to any future missions for you after having to be carried back to HQ. Despite this, though, you watched them train, begrudgingly staying on the sidelines despite feeling perfectly fine.
You and Riyo just got back from getting some snacks while Zanka had been training Rudo for about an hour. It didn’t take long before you noticed that he started getting that crazy look in his eyes every time he trains the kid.
The Spherite, while a fast learner, is held back by his severe impatience. You can’t help but laugh at the thought that Enjin made the worst decision making Zanka train him, as he’s the complete opposite.
He’s known to be one of the hardest working Cleaners and possibly the most disciplined, but even his patience seems to run thin every time Rudo loses control of his temper.
Rudo gets triggered by everything; Zanka gets triggered by everything Rudo does.
As bad as you feel for their struggles, you do understand Enjin. It’s entertaining to see them butt heads. They’re both very skilled and would have made a great duo had their personalities been compatible at any level. Clearly they just need to learn a thing or two from each other, seeing as Zanka can get a little too uptight sometimes.
“You know, learning how Rudo thinks would help us out a whole lot.” Riyo stands beside you, watching the same shit show you are—she doesn’t even spare you a glance.
You sigh, leaning back on the wall behind you and crossing your arms. “You know I don’t do that. Not unless it’s necessary,” you said just as Zanka and Rudo strike each other with their vital instruments.
Your red-headed friend shrugs, finally looking at you with a smirk on her face right as Rudo gets bonked on the head by Lovely Assistaff. “I’d say it’s pretty needed now, don’t you think?” She points at your boyfriend who’s red with frustration—you can imagine smoke coming out of his ears at this point. “I think Zanka would benefit from it a lot,” she giggles.
“Oh, he absolutely would,” you laugh, gazing at the pair fondly. “But it’s a slippery slope. What’ll stop me from using Ayane to read people’s minds over and over again?” Your hand reaches for the headphones around your neck, gently tracing the soft padding.
“Absolutely nothing,” she quips. The mischief in her voice isn’t something she hides, either. “That’s kind of the point of your jinki.” Riyo huffs, leaning back as well, her gaze going back to the training grounds. She knows that this isn’t something to argue about. It’s a losing battle. “But I do think your restraint is very honourable.”
You can hear the smile in her voice that turns into full on laughter when Rudo decides to use another plunger against Zanka just to get on his nerves. There’s no helping the loud cackle that escape you, too, when they both start to run around with their arms flailing. Why does Rudo even have a plunger in his collection of junk?
Deciding to watch a little closer, you and Riyo make your way towards them, where Enjin stood by. You have an inkling that he may be responsible for a certain bathroom appliance added to the Spherite’s training trash pile.
Some part of you believes that maybe Enjin loves to mess with your boyfriend so he can loosen up a little—that, in your opinion, is valid. You would approach it differently, of course, if it were you.
When the blond man sees you approach, he hollers towards Zanka and whistles to get his attention—he gets no response, since his laser focus is practically impenetrable sometimes. Despite this, though, Enjin seems to get more enticed.
“Lover boy! Better step up now that your girlfriend’s watching,” he teases, waving his hands in the air and pointing at you in the most exaggerated way possible.
For only a second, Zanka’s eyes flicker towards you, while the overwhelmed, clearly agitated Rudo had just finished turning some scrap fan blades into multiple spinning dagger-sized weapons that he sends flying towards your boyfriend.
You knew that Zanka wouldn’t be able to respond in time so you decided to step in, putting your headphones on as you rush in front of him, your foot stomping on the ground just as Ayane starts to glow. The vibrations seem to shake the entire building, using the loud boom to create an invisible rippling wall in front of you, effectively stopping the blades just a few inches away from your face.
“Rudo!” you shout, your voice piercing the ears of everyone present. The temporary force field disappears and the blades clank onto the ground, your headphones losing their bright incandescence.
The thundering sound of your footfalls are difficult to miss when you approach the new member of your team. His eyes are still red and his hands are tightly balled into fists; he stares you down with gritted teeth. The white-haired boy doesn’t seem afraid at all, and if anything, he looks particularly aggressive, which tells you that he might have gotten carried away once again.
He lifts his hand to do god knows what, but you don’t have the chance to find out since you quickly grab his wrist and send soundwaves down his arm. It shakes him awake, the deep bass thumping in his chest the way a loud speaker would, but tenfold.
His eyes lose their glow and he flinches at your grip.
“Stand down, Rudo,” you command. “You almost hurt Zanka. If you can’t control yourself here then you won’t survive out there, you little runt.”
The training grounds have been effectively silenced, but it’s Rudo who has an especially guilty look on his face, his shoulders going stiff. “I’m sorry…” he mumbles, not quite finding the confidence to speak any louder when you have yet to let him go.
You loosen your grip and drop you hand back to your side. “Don’t apologise to me, apologise to Zanka,” you scold. Everything about him tells you that he didn’t, and still doesn’t, mean any harm, but with how fast your heart is beating and the sound of blood rushing in your ears—it made you more cautious than what’s necessary.
This is Rudo; just Rudo.
But he almost hurt Zanka.
The white-haired boy looks sheepishly behind you, his eyes sometimes flicking to Riyo and Enjin shamefully. When his gaze is finally steady on his teacher, he mumbles quietly, but genuinely: “I’m s-sorry, Zanka…”
Enjin breaks the tension by clapping his hands once, taking big strides towards you and Rudo before swinging an arm around your shoulders—with the way he’s smiling, you can tell he means well, but you’re not quite sure if his silliness is what Zanka needs right now.
“Maybe it’s you who needs to apologise, Y/N.” He grins as he squeezes you momentarily, ruffling your hair with his other hand and pointing his thumb at your boyfriend, who’s still sitting on the ground, a frustrated look on his face. “I think lover boy over there got a bit distracted when he noticed ya,” he teases.
Enjin spins you both around, still tightly holding onto you as you now face the agitated Zanka. With a dramatic sigh, as if he’s been lovestruck, Enjin smirks at both of you. “That’s what you get with puppy love.”
The defeated boy on the floor doesn’t react, instead, he gets up with a huff, dusts himself off, and walks away without a single word.
“Hey! Zanka—” you elbow Enjin’s ribs before he can finish speaking, knowing he’s about to add more quips just to mess around.
You grab his wrist and get out of his hold. “You know how he gets, Enjin. You’re not helping,” you chide, smacking his shoulder. He dramatically flinches and gasps.
“You’d hit your boss?!” he retorts, both hands coming up to chest over his heart. “I’m heartbroken—”
He immediately stops his playfulness when you activate your jinki for a second, the glow enough for him to know you’re being serious, though you don’t actually mean for it to be a threat; just menacing enough to get the message across.
Your main worry is that Zanka might still hear—he feels terrible enough. About what, you’re not entirely sure, but you don’t want to make it worse. Before you leave to go find your boyfriend, though, you can’t help but let a small grin slip through your thin veil of annoyance towards Enjin, who seems relieved when he sees you’re not actually pissed.
The man is scared shitless of you sometimes despite being insanely strong in his own right, and of course, being several years older. There’s mutual respect between both of you—he never likes seeing you upset, especially if you’re the cause.
And, sure, he’ll never admit it, but sometimes he thinks that if you two are ever in a physical fight, you might just kick his ass.
Meanwhile, this entire time, Riyo seemed pretty content with standing on the sidelines and watching the show, though you do appreciate the reassuring look she sends you before you turn around and head inside.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
It’s dinner time already and Zanka still hasn’t left his room. You never had the opportunity to speak with him right after what happened during training—his door was locked, and he didn’t answer when you knocked or called for him.
Figuring he needed some space to calm down and recuperate, you spent most of your time in the common area, talking with anyone who was there with you, but mostly spending your time playing with Guita and Dear.
You’ve been spending a lot of time with Team Child lately due to your ordered rest; Zanka was laser focused on training as usual, and you didn’t want to take him away from it since you know how important it is for him to see his own progress.
However, you’ve waited long enough, and you think that you’ve given him ample time to practice whatever new technique he’s been working on. You can excuse him being holed up in his room because he’s upset about how training went—for some reason—but you’re not about to let him skip dinner.
With a bowl of beef noodle soup in your hand, you let yourself into his room using the key he’d given you a while back. It’s not something you use often because you never needed to.
Sometimes you actually think he has some type of x-ray vision when he opens the door for you before you can even knock.
This time, though, he didn’t answer you at all after five minutes of calling out for him.
Once you get the door open, Zanka is in the process of sitting up, his feet planting themselves firmly on the floor with a soft thud. He’s not looking at you, his eyes steady on the floor with his elbows on his knees; a visible look of irritation on his face.
When you sit next to him on the bed, something you’ve done a thousand times before, you leave a little bit of space between you two, the bowl of beef noodle soup safely in your hands, getting a little too hot for your comfort.
But it’s tolerable when all of your attention is on him.
There’s a lot of tension in the room—one you can’t quite decipher. Most of it is coming from him. Whatever you could have done to get this kind of rigidity from him is beyond you.
It feels personal, like he’s upset at you specifically.
And it feels unnerving when most of the time, he seeks you out for comfort whenever something is distressing him, instead of pushing you out like he does with most of the others.
“You should eat,” you mumble, holding the bowl out to him. It’s not nearly enough to break the ice despite the increasing temperature on your hands.
Zanka scoffs, his head recoiling as if the mere thought of food disgusts him. “I’ll get my own food.”
Suddenly, the heat from the soup seems to singe your hands, but you only hold onto it tighter, lowering it onto your lap to give your burning skin a break. Your fingers dance along the rim of the bowl, thumbs fidgeting against the ceramic while you contemplate your next words.
You ignore the urge to scoot away from him. “Did I do something wrong?”
Despite not coming up with anything you could’ve done, you still brace yourself for the answer.
He shakes his head, shoulders slumping slightly as he lets out a tired huff. “No,” he replies—his gaze could burn through the floor if it isn’t for the exhausted haze that seems to dance in his eyes. “It’s my fault. I got distracted.”
Taken aback, you move closer to him, his sleeve barely brushing your arm as the soup sloshes around, miraculously staying inside its container. “Zanka, dear, Enjin was just kidding. You know that, right?”
Your voice was gentle, as gentle as it gets with Zanka, knowing how much he looks up to his mentor. Especially now that you know what’s causing this behaviour. Sometimes the blond goof takes it a bit too far, but this wasn’t something you expected would stick with him.
He still won’t look at you, even when he shakes his head dejectedly and you have to ball your hand into a fist as you try to resist brushing the fallen strands of his hair away from his face.
The silence in the room maintains its equilibrium, not a single sound bursting the tense bubble in the room.
You look down at the soup in your hands. “Do you blame me for distracting you?”
It’s the only conclusion you could come up with, with how he’s acting like you’d burn him if you get too close; he got distracted by you, and if there’s anything you know about Zanka, he’ll stay away from anything he thinks is holding him back or standing in the way of his goal of becoming stronger.
The heat from the bowl seems to get worse, the prickling sensation on your hands now extending to your thighs where the bottom of the bowl makes contact, through the fabric of your clothes, as the sting reaches your legs.
“Am I holding you back?” It’s a simple question, but it’s one that makes you feel like there’s a stone stuck in your throat, your voice sounding more distant and strained than it’s ever been around him.
There’s only silence, and you find yourself counting to three.
And at the third second, the heat becomes unbearable.
You stand abruptly, so fast that a few drops of hot soup lands on your wrists, making your hand shake despite their steady hold on the bowl.
Placing it on his desk, you internally plead of him not to wait until it gets cold—he deserves a hot meal after training for so long.
Before you leave his room, you turn to look at him one more time, seeing that he hasn’t moved much since you let yourself in. The weight around your neck is suddenly feeling heavier that it usually is—your fingers twitch at your sides, tempted to wear your headphones and find out what he’s actually thinking.
Just a week ago he was carrying you back to HQ after an exhausting back-to-back mission. Now he won’t even look at you.
When did it go wrong?
You’re so close to finding out but as you glance at the bowl of beef noodle soup on his desk, the palms of your hands start to tingle; this time, because of the absence of the warmth you cradled so carefully just a second ago.
Now is not the time to use your jinki—not now especially.
You trust Zanka. He’ll come to you when he’s ready. It would be a betrayal to suddenly start invading his privacy when he clearly needs it the most. Your feet move before you can stop them.
The cold metal door knob prickles your skin when you twist it. “Please eat, Zanka.”
The soup stays still, getting colder by the minute as the door shuts, barely making a sound.
The following days are about as cold as Zanka’s room that night.
Meal times got a little bit lonelier despite the full cafeteria most days—the other Cleaners noticed, of course, but they never brought it up aside from the occasional check-ins.
You try not to show the sorrow that follows you around, try to ignore the emptiness that you feel in your chest when Zanka exits the room right when you enter, coincidentally having something come up that he needs to handle.
It’s obvious your teammates wanted to ask, since it isn’t the usual for the pair of you not to be seen together at least once a day—but still, no one dared to ask, partially due to the fact that it’s none of their business, and because you have enough mental fortitude to smile through it all, believing that everything will be fine in due time.
It’s a frail mask. Solid enough not to crumble whenever Zanka heads straight to his room after missions or acts like you aren’t even there when he talks to your teammates, but fragile enough to tell you’re hiding behind friendly smiles and sweets shared between the Team Child and Rudo.
Speaking of Rudo, you can tell he feels guilty. He joins in whenever Dear and Guita plays whatever games are available in the common room. He makes more jokes in an attempt to get you to laugh a genuine laugh, gets into petty fights with Dear over candy, encourages Guita to talk about her favourite monsters—the other two enjoy it just as much as you do, and you’re happy to see them get along.
They’ve been your pick-me-ups aside from eating out with Enjin as you try to find new food places—hidden gems among popular restaurants—and learning new hairstyles with Riyo that you struggle with more than she does, so it turns mostly into her tying your hair however she wants. You’ve also been hanging out with Tamsy, Delmon, and Bro more.
Though you’ve always been close to most of the Cleaners, it’s nice to spend a little bit more time with them—and you’ll hold on to that silver lining until your knuckles turn white.
But sometimes, no matter how hard you hope that he’ll come back to you, your trust seems to waver, and you’re caught in a moment of weakness when you find a zoned out Zanka staring at a bowl of beef noodle soup while he’s surrounded by your friends at the cafeteria.
He hasn’t noticed you yet, neither have the other.
It’s not as crowded at it usually is, so, with shaking hands, you lift your headphones up to your ears as you make sure their view of you is obstructed by the door. Your jinki glows and your heart is pounding so much so that you doubt you’d hear anything through the ear-aching thumps.
“I can’t avoid her forever. If I leave her, I won’t be distracted anymore.”
Ayane’s glow disappears as quickly as the tears form in your eyes.
You’ve lost your appetite.
You walk away from the cafeteria with your chest feeling empty, and instead of the fluttering in your chest that he used to bring you, there’s a burning in your stomach as bile threatens to crawl up your throat before you can even make it to your room.
The sob that almost escapes you is muffled by your hand—you don’t want anyone to ask questions. If they do, it’ll egg Zanka on to do what he feels like is right for him, and you’ll never know the real reason why everything suddenly went to shit.
He’ll come to you when he comes to you.
The least he can do for you now is tell you why without having to beg him to.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
It’s a month into receiving the cold shoulder from Zanka when you overhear his conversation with Semiu—there’s been another Spherite, kidnapped this time, by a trash beast. A merchant called it in and he’s supposed to lead a team of Supporters, where the only other Giver is Rudo.
Fuck no, you think.
You’re well aware that they’re both reliable Cleaners, and the Supporters are more than capable of helping, but there’s a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Just hearing the report—there’s obviously something wrong, which Zanka might have caught had he not been so inside his head recently.
Why would a trash beast kidnap someone?
And aside from that, there’s the obvious possibility of your boyfriend and the only other Spherite in the land to butt heads to the point of sabotaging the mission. Any mission should never be affected by personal feelings in an ideal world—and yes, you might be a little hypocritical here—so telling the two most unpredictably incompatible duo to answer the shadiest report you’ve ever heard is plain moronic.
When you approach them, you try to seme as calm as possible, hiding the anxiety that lingers in your mind at the thought of Zanka being the only experienced Giver on a mission you find so suspicious.
“Hey, Semiu,” you call out, waving as you lean both of your hands on her desk. “I’ll come with. I’ve been—”
She holds a hand up to you before she even turns to face you. “Enjin says you’re not allowed to go.”
You’re left speechless for a moment as you let the information sink in. Of course Enjin wouldn’t let you go. Despite being the next best Cleaner to. Your vital instrument combined with your field experience makes you an invaluable asset who should be deployed in suspicious missions—you can protect them and yourself, you know it.
When you try to reason with her, it’s Zanka who interrupts you this time.
“Tch.” His arms are crossed and he’s scowling at you, and suddenly the few feet of distance between you both feels like miles. “If Enjin thinks I can lead this mission, then I can. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Zanka!” you shout, feeling immediate regret at raising your voice. It hurts to know that this is how he thinks of you—someone who doesn’t trust him, someone who thinks he’s not capable enough to be on his own. “You know that’s not why I want to go. There’s something wrong about this—”
“So what?” he interjects, taking a step closer as if to challenge you. “I can handle it.”
There’s a finality in his voice that’s amplified by the fact that this is the first time in a month that he’s actually able to look you in the eyes for more than a second. This seems to dawn on everybody as well; they’re all quiet, staring like they’re waiting for something to happen—if the ticking time bomb that is the tension between you and Zanka is about to come to its precipice.
“I know you can, but—”
“But what, Y/N? Do you—”
“Can you stop interrupting me, you asshole?!”
Semiu clears her throat before you and Zanka start to say anything you might regret. She turns her chair completely in your direction. “Enjin wants you to rest,” she says sternly, but there’s kindness in her eyes, almost like she doesn’t want to be the one to tell you. “You’re one of our best and you’re overworked. You can’t go on every mission.” Her voice gets softer in the end and she looks at you with more warmth than you can see in you boyfriend.
Zanka turns from angry to smug, and he doesn’t even say goodbye when he leaves with his team, walking right through the doors without so much as a wave.
You groan in frustration and defeat as you slump down on the corner of Semiu’s desk. Despite the ugly, public fight you just had, your eyes can’t help but linger at the door, watching it swing shut and obstruct your view of Zanka.
“I agree with Enjin,” Semiu mutters, her chair squeaking as she turns around to face the wall behind her, looking at her nails idly. “It’d be a shame if you manage to sneak away.”
And she doesn’t need to tell you twice.
Without a second thought, you’re immediately out the door, lucky enough to spot them in the distance right away. They haven’t gotten far. You can’t get close, anyway, because you don’t want any of them getting an inkling that someone’s following, or else you’ll be a distraction to Zanka for real this time—and maybe the rest of his team if you end up fighting again.
The journey to the caller’s location is fairly peaceful. You don’t even see Zanka and Rudo argue as much as you expected them to, but there’s still that voice at thebakc of your head, almost screaming at you to force them to turn back around.
It’s definitely an unconventional call, and there’s a spark of irritation you feel in your chest when you think about how Cleaners were sent to answer it without questioning how or why a trash beast would even kidnap anyone, let alone a Spherite.
Rudo is the only one you’ve ever seen alive—he’s basically a miracle; a glitch that you’re now still trying to remedy since his presence ruffled a lot of feathers. That’s not even mentioning the fact that he wants to go back up to the Sphere.
What are the chances that another Spherite lived through the fall?
Your train of angry thoughts are interrupted when the group finally gets to speak to the vendor. You hide behind the ruins of some building when you bring your jinki to life, the glow hidden just enough to be out of view, but you’re still cautious that they might be able to see it from afar.
The headphones work well for trying to hear their conversation, and as much as you hate to do it, this is one of those times you deem it necessary to read someone’s thoughts. The lady they’re talking to sounds off—you’re a Giver whose powers revolve around sound, you’re fucked if you can’t tell when someone’s voice sounds wrong.
It feels wrong as well, it spurs the feeling of uncanny valley within you, like she’s mimicking a human rather than being one.
And when you hear nothing, no thoughts, nausea begins to flood your head and bile starts creeping up your throat, trailing a burning feeling the higher it rose.
She’s not human.
It’s a trap.
By the time you hear the crumbling floor of the building they went in, you knew you had been too late. You’d lost visibility the moment they entered the building and you internally kick yourself when you realize you should’ve known better—what trash beast behaves so intelligently that not only does it kidnap someone, but also has the capacity to hide itself and its victim to avoid getting caught?
There’s no second guessing; you run and jump down the basement with them, having the forethought to cling to a low-hanging metal rod sticking out from the concrete. You brace yourself against the broken crumbling floor so you’re hanging just above the group of your confused teammates, hoping that you don’t cast too obvious of a shadow.
It’s both fortunate and unfortunate when you hear Gris in the middle of explaining who the Raiders are to Rudo. If it isn’t for those purple lamps, Zanka would have surely seen you by now.
However, you can feel your heart beat faster at the thought of Rudo and Zanka fighting alone—especially when Gris sends everyone away to find an exit.
The supporters aren’t amateurs. They all know what they’re doing.
But Givers are already dangerous on their own, what more hostile ones? Ones with a clear objective, which is to get the boy standing right in front of them. Right next to your stupid, hard-headed boyfriend, no less.
The more logical part of your brain, though, tells you that this is exactly the moment Zanka has been looking for. He can use this to prove himself.
And it hits you that it may be why he was so adamant on going to this mission as the only experienced Cleaner. Especially without you.
You have no doubt that he can handle this. In the off chance that he can’t, then you’re here to back him up. To hell with spectating.
At the end of the day he can protect himself, but Rudo and the Supporters against even one Raider can mean that someone gets hurt. If it gets to that point, you don’t even care what Zanka thinks—you wouldn’t forgive yourself.
You wait until you hear the pattering feet of the rest of the group run to find an exit before you jump down as quietly as possible, opposite to Zanka and the Raiders, shifting yourself just as you land so you can roll forward silently into the shadows where you begin to use the pillars to keep you out of sight.
Thankfully, Ayane absorbs most of the sounds that you make on your way down, limiting the noise of your movements to only yourself.
You look at Zanka one more time, mentally wishing—begging—him to be safe before you put your entire focus on the surrounding area and make sure that there aren’t any other Raiders planning an ambush.
Thankfully, despite the long way you had to run, you see the glowing green exit sign leading to what seems to be a stairwell without encountering anyone else.
You only step out of the shadows when Gris says he’ll check on Zanka while everyone heads out. The sinking feeling in your stomach still hasn’t gone away. The direction that you saw the Raiders in has become eerily quiet, and if they’ve truly been defeated this quickly, then either they’re too weak to handle one opponent or they manage to incapacitate Zanka in such a short amount of time.
Even if it’s the former, you’re inclined to believe that it’s just too easy. Those bastard bandits with overgrown egos won’t settle for such a lousy fight without something else up their sleeves.
“No, Gris,” you said, letting your footsteps finally be heard as they echo along with your voice.
Everyone seems to flinch due to the high-adrenaline situation, but they immediately relax when their eyes all land on you.
Rudo seems especially surprised that you ended up following them here, but you hold a hand up before he can say speak. “I’ll check on Zanka. I have a bad feeling about all this—it’s too dangerous for you to stay down here.”
You walk closer to them and lay a comforting hand on Rudo’s shoulder, giving him a soft chuckle and a tired smile. “Everyone knows I go where Zanka goes, unless I physically can’t,” you explain, ruffling his hair before moving to stand next to Gris.
You pat his arm before gesturing to the exit. “Go. You can protect them on the way up, but I can handle the rest down h—”
Footsteps are heard from the darkness of where you were once running, and everyone seems to relax at the notion that it must be Zanka.
However, you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
It’s all wrong. The sound, the steps, the cadence—it’s not him.
Ayane glows bright as you prepare yourself, walking protectively in front of the group and waiting for the enemy to step into the light. Despite not having said a word, the tension builds, especially when everyone else seems to realize that you manage to figure out it’s a Raider before they could even be seen.
Finally, you can see the man approaching you.
He has thick dreadlocks, purple clothes, and piercing hot pink eyes which are pointed towards Rudo, completely ignoring your presence when he begins to mumble the kid’s description as if he’s ticking off a checklist.
And before you know it, he jumps incredibly fast onto the wall on top of the exit, his hands and feet digging into the concrete like some kind of human spider before destroying the wall entirely.
Debris is launched towards all of you but you move quick, managing to create a sound barrier that’s solid enough to keep everyone safe from the falling rocks and powder that floats through the air.
You’re knocked off of your feet, having been caught off-guard. The force of the collision between your powers and the exploding wall was enough to throw you backwards, and you land on your back with a pained grunt.
As the Raider talks, he comes too close to your friends, making your fists clench against the ground.
You can’t bring yourself to move. With your abilities, you’re confident you can protect them from this far away, and so far, the stranger doesn’t seem to care about your presence at all.
But any movement from you might alert him. He already seems high as fuck from what you can tell—the last thing you want is for him to feel like starting a fight more than he already has.
You thank your lucky stars that Rudo has yet to lose his cool and start trying to beat up this guy. It’s good to have time to plan while the Raider runs his mouth.
Despite the tense situation, though, you can’t help but let out a relieved sigh when he says that Zanka is alive, but the tension comes back tenfold when you hear the word venom.
It happens quickly. One second he was just talking and swinging Rudo’s mask around, then the next a pink glow comes from the palm of his hand and huge metal claws erupt from it.
His vital instrument, you think.
You, Gris, and Follo are quick to defend the kid from the Raider, but you’re too far. The two supporters quickly get throw away by the stranger’s kicks after easily ducking away from any possible hits.
Jumping over Rudo with your arms wide open, you use both your hands to create a bubble of soundwaves around Follo and Gris to help with a softer landing. With an anguished cry, you deliver a hard kick on the enemy’s stomach right before you hit the ground.
You crash onto the floor with a thud, feeling your body get scratched and bruised. The Raider yelps in pain, too, you kick having been hard enough to make him cough out blood.
The smugness you feel disappears completely when you see that it only makes him smile.
This crazy son of a bitch.
He laughs manically, his glowing pink eyes staring you down as he gets up on his feet—you follow suit, both you and him on a stalemate as you recover.
From what you can see, though, you have an inkling that you’re the only one who really needs to catch your breath. He’s studying you—not resting, but trying to anticipate the way you’ll fight him.
The laughing starts slow, deep and menacing, but it crescendos into loud and hysterical, so much so that he doubles over and has to clutch his stomach tightly. “I like you, princess,” he pants in between his frenzied shrieks. “Hit me ag—”
He gets cut off when you launch yourself towards him using your jinki, reaching him in half a second before you take his arm and you kick his foot forward, using his imbalance to throw him over your shoulder, high above your head then smash him onto the cement.
You imbue your attack with soundwaves and vibrations so that the force in which he hits the ground is so strong that there’s a human-shaped hole in the ground about a foot deep. He seems disoriented—not just from whatever injury he may have sustained, but from how fast it all happened.
He’s a formidable opponent, you can tell, despite how you’ve only just met him. He’s quick on his feet, agile, but nothing you can’t keep up with.
Ayane uses sound by absorbing noise around you; even a small pebble hitting the floor is enough for your headphones to soak up and amplify. Luckily for you, this guy is talkative—his laughter and crazed monologues only serve as more fuel and energy.
He’ll be a pain in the ass to fight, especially when he regains his composure, but if you can keep your focus, you think you can out-last him. Your vital instrument specializes in endurance due to the way you can use any sound to your advantage.
Not even someone as skilled as him can outrun the speed and power of sound.
“Man, that’s hot—” he grunts, slowly sitting up. “If the boss isn’t waiting, I’d love to push you to your limits.”
The smirk on his lips is something you so desperately want to wipe off his face. He’s not just a formidable fighter; he’s also a fucking creep.
His eyes are deeply unstable; never have you met anyone who’s sadistic and masochistic to this degree. There’s no winning with him, you think. Everything that can and will happen, as long as someone is getting hurt, even if it’s him, will be to his enjoyment.
“Just give up now and make it easier for the both of us,” you say, breathing heavily as you look down at him. It doesn’t matter how weak you sound right now, there’s clearly more to those nasty claws, and you don’t want to come to a point where both of you are depressingly injured and he’s the only one enjoying himself.
Enjin and his no-kill rule can be a pain in the ass sometimes, too. It’d be easier to fight him if you’re actually allowed to kill him. Murder is usually below you—at least not until someone goes out of their way to put venom into your boyfriend’s bloodstream.
A frenzied snarl grows on his face and he uses his long sleeves to wipe at the blood that’s started to run down his nose. “But I like it hard,” he drawls, and in the blink of an eyes, he front-flips and kicks you away towards a pillar, which crumbles against the force and half-buries you under rubble.
Okay, maybe you underestimated him and his speed. Your bad for letting your guard down, you guess.
Everything around you spins for a few moments, but you know you don’t have time, so you start pushing and kicking big pieces of cement off of you until you’ve done enough to be able to sit up.
A wave of nausea hits you at the sudden motion but you ignore it and stumble to your feet, just in time to see Gris standing in front of Rudo defensively as the other Supporters shoot you worried glances.
Unfortunately, your view is from behind, which means you don’t see when it happens.
And you would’ve never known had it not for the attacker saying that Gris might already be dead.
Then his claws push right through Gris, exposing the shiny, blood-stained metal to you and Rudo.
Red is all you see.
In a flash of movement, you’re right in front of your assailant, gripping onto where his claws meet his gloves. There’s a second where he seems pleasantly surprised by your sudden appearance and your eyes meet in a battle of crazed-stares.
With as much strength and focus as you can muster, you pull the claws in one swift movement, avoiding damaging Gris’ body even further, before putting all of your energy into one attack directed towards his vital instrument.
A sound wave so precise and controlled that you manage to shatter his claws.
For once he’s actually taken aback, and a flurry of emotions can be seen on his face until he lands on one that almost looks horrifically impressed. He’s absolutely stunned for a second.
Ayane is a powerful vital instrument, that’s for sure, but you’ve never broken another vital instrument before; you almost feel bad, knowing that each jinki holds a special meaning.
However, you only broke the transformed version of his instrument, which means he can regrow his claws as fast as they had been shattered.
You’re banking on the fact that if you struggle to use more than one of your powerful abilities at the same time due to the amount of energy you have to exert, then you can assume that this guy is the same way.
You wish you can read what’s going on in that brain of his, but it would overwhelm you, which won’t help seeing as you can already feel your legs start to shake after the immense power it took to break the claws.
Quickly, you crawl towards Gris, ripping parts of his jacket to stuff it into the wound on his front. You ask the other supporters who are quick to stay by their teammate’s side to help lift him up and you stuff pieces of fabric onto the wound at the back.
Though you make short work of it, the Raider seems to have left you alone for reasons you can’t yet decipher, but you’ll take any time you can get if it means saving a beloved team member.
When Follo assures you that they have Gris covered, you turn back to the Raider who’s crouched down a few feet away, observing his shattered claws before looking you dead in the eyes.
He smirks at you, his hand emanating bright pink light as he grows back his instrument. For most of the battle so far, he’s look bored, maybe mildly entertained; occasionally impressed.
This time, though, he looked ecstatic. “The name’s Jabber. Whoever you are, try not to die any time soon.”
That’s all the warning you get before he lunges at you with full speed.
But just as fast as he moved to attack, suddenly, he stops, eyes focusing just behind you.
That’s when you notice that there’s wind billowing all around, making crushed cement fill the air, itching the back of your throat.
It’s Rudo, holding onto Gris’ necklace, his own vital instrument glowing a deep red as a huge version of the pendant tower behind him, almost wrapping around his body. His eyes are full of the same rage you had felt earlier, but within his irises lay pain and desperation, especially when they flicker towards the bleeding Supporter on the floor.
You fear how much control he actually has of it.
Jabber seems entirely entranced and starts to interrogate the kid, and it isn’t until he mentions that he likes strong fighters that you start to understand why he took so much pleasure in going against you.
He didn’t expect you to put up such a strong fight, which explains why he looked impressed, and why he kept going with renewed vigor every time you hit a little harder. How do you even defeat someone who’ll only get pleasure from getting beat up by a good opponent?
Enjins no-kill rule is really getting on your nerves.
Rudo seems to have him distracted—entertained, even. The Raider has completely lost interest in you. It’s to your advantage, though, and as much as you’d like to help, you stick to caring for Gris’ wound, trying with all your might to stop the blood pooling around him.
There are thundering cracks and crashes around you, the cloud of debris preventing you from seeing anything—at this point you’ve done all that you can but the bleeding Supporter is still not out of the woods.
Even when he starts talking, it’s muffled by your tunnel vision, and it’s not until Gris’ words starts to slur a little bit more that you’re snapped out of your quiet hysteria and you put your hands over the fabric covering his wound, pressing down hard.
You’ve been applying pressure intermittently, in between checking the make-shift bandages, but you haven’t used Ayane just yet.
Your breathing is labored and your mind is reeling from the chaos around you. Rudo’s fighting some nut job alone, Gris is bleeding, Zanka is nowhere to be found—supposedly injured—and the rest are stuck in the basement just waiting to see if anyone else gets hurt.
You force yourself to focus anyway. If you aren’t in tune with the sounds around you then your jinki might as well be useless.
The first thing you hear is Rudo explaining just how his vital instrument works—specifically, how he imagines the gigantic pendant.
Your blood boils just enough to tear your attention off of Gris and you whip your head to Rudo’s direction, your weight still mostly on the wound.
“RUDO YOU SHITHEAD,” you growl, and you can see the boy stiffen and send you a terrified look before putting his focus back on his opponent. “DON’T FUCKING EXPLAIN IT TO HIM?!”
A groan from the man below you pulls you back to reality and you groan in annoyance when you have to ignore the idiot that is Rudo at the moment. “Shit,” you curse under your breath, finally getting to work on sending deep vibrations through the fabric and into the wound.
It’d take a long time for it to do anything of significance, but there’s nothing else you can do but keep going until Rudo finds a way to incapacitate the maniac.
“wh-what are you doing, Y/N?” Follo asks, staring curiously at your glowing hands.
“Low-frequency vibrations encourage cellular regeneration,” you answer, your focus unwavering and your gaze remaining on the wound. It’s not easy by any means. The vibrations have to be consistent and remain at a specific frewuency for it to work; even then, it’s not going to be quick. You can manipulate sound but not biology. “It’s not going to do much of anything for something this severe, but I have to try.”
You spare Follo a glance and he seems surprisingly captivated despite the situation at hand. He’s an aspiring Giver, after all, and there aren’t a lot who can use their abilities for healing.
Hell, you don’t even consider yourself to be one of them with how slow it’s going, but your concept of time has long left you—the only thing holding your attention is Gris’ ragged breathing and Follo’s words of encouragement towards you both.
When you hear maniacal laughter behind you, you brush it off. Jabber has done more laughing than attacking at this point that you’ve learned to block it out. However, you’re forced to pay attention when a strong grip encases your wrist. Gris has somehow managed to gather enough strength to get your attention, and you take it as a good sign.
His eyes are steady on yours and clearer than they have been since he got stabbed. “R-Rudo…” he rasps. “He’s…in trouble…” A sudden deep cough interrupts him but his grip only tightens. You can practically feel him pleading with you.
You allow yourself to stop for a moment and look at what’s happening—Jabber had stabbed himself, now in a worse state then he was earlier because of—if you heard him correctly—some neurotoxin.
When you look back at Gris, he’s still looking at you with desperate eyes, and you growl in frustration. Stupid Gris and his stupid fatherly ways.
“Follo,” you breathe out, assessing the wound. “The bleeding’s slowed down a little, but you’ll have to keep putting pressure on it.”
He doesn’t say anything but he nods at you, immediately replacing your hands on Gris’ stomach, and you stand up to chase after Rudo who’s ran away from your group.
To your horror, you catch up to them just in time to see Jabber, basically breaking his back in a weird possessed-like pose, and it stuns you long enough that he manages to get up and charges after Rudo with a scream you’d expect is enough to break his vocal cords.
The first metallic sound that comes from his, fortunately unsuccessful, swipe at Rudo snaps you out of it and you run, faster than you thought you even could as you watch the sharp claws get dangerously close, the shiny silver creating lightning-like streaks and loud clangs when it cuts through the air.
Right before Rudo gets hit, your body slam into Jabber at full speed, knocking both of you several feet away. Mid-air, you let go of your enemy, fearing that you might get nicked once you hit the ground.
The tumble isn’t merciful—your body hits the ground roughly, not having enough time to prepare for the fall, but you plant your feet anyway and you ignore the stinging that covers your entire body.
Jabber instantly charges after you just as you manage to compose yourself.
You barely dodge his swings and you make a run for it, in the same direction where Rudo is, before you jump up towards a pillar, catching Jabber off guard. He’s not quick or mentally sound enough to make the speedy change in direction and he can’t slow himself down fast enough before you’re leaping off the wall and bashing the side of his head in with your fist.
He stumbles back before he’s coming at you again, both his claws directed at your face—you duck out of the way, sliding between his feet and tripping him in the process.
Jabber face-plants on the ground and you take that opportunity to use Ayane and throw your hands in front of you, sending ear-piercing sound waves towards him, managing to crack his claws. You keep going, the amount of energy strong enough that it’s repelling you away from him, your shoes dragging on the floor as you slowly get pushed backwards.
You’re a second away from breaking those metal abominations; legs are shaking from the amount of effort it takes to go against your jinki’s powerful force and your arms start to tremble. Sweat drips from your forehead—you almost forget to breath due to the amount of focus you have to put into making Jabber immobile.
But it’s all worth it when you see more cracks stain those shiny claws—
“Zanka!”
Rudo’s voice slices through the tension, and your heart sinks when you realize your attention has wavered.
You get thrown back by the uncontrolled sound waves that explode in the air, the back of your head hitting the ground; it’s hard enough that your vision goes black for a moment, and the second it’s back, the first thing you see is Jabber flying through the air, his crazed eyes are on you.
There’s barely any time to flinch before the tips of his claws are mere centimeters away from your face.
A thwipping sound is heard and Jabber gets thrown far away from you—Lovely Assisstaff pinning him to the floor. Finally, he seems like he’s incapacitated for now, but you know it won’t last long.
Though your vision spins, you still try to get up, but you fall back down and you see a steady trickle of blood flow down onto the floor.
“Hey! I don’t know why your stubborn ass is here but stay down! You’re bleeding for fuck’s sake!”
You sigh in relief when you hear Zanka’s voice, and although he’s scolding you, it’s enough to make you lay back down and rest, even for just a moment. You’ve missed him scold you.
Him and Rudo seem to be forming a plan but they’re too far away, and the ringing in your ears is too loud.
You’re aware that you’re pretty much in between Jabber and the two of them, and you’ll be the first one that he’ll set his eyes on. If you don’t get up now, you’re likely to die, or get gravely injured like Gris.
Though you’re sure that the beating you’ll receive won’t be as simple—Gris was stabbed by a sober masochistic maniac, and you’re against someone who’ll behead you with a single swipe and not a second thought.
Against Zanka’s orders, you flip onto your stomach when you saw Jabber stir, the nausea hitting you like a tidal wave. Your arms feel like jelly as you lift yourself up enough and look up at your lovely boyfriend talking to Rudo.
A faint smile makes its way onto your lips, your feet moving enough that you can sort of crawl forward, but it’s not without extreme effort. Suddenly there’s a dripping sound below you, and you can see droplets of blood falling onto the floor in front of your face.
You feel liquid on your lips and you realize that your nose is bleeding—quite significantly. An exhausted chuckle escapes your lips. It’s only hitting you now how injured you really are.
There’s blood everywhere below you and you’re surprised that, combined with the injury to your head, you’re still conscious.
Still, you keep crawling forward, no matter how slow, the blood getting dragged in a gruesome show of strength and possibly, if you ask Zanka, stupidity. You have to make it to him. It feels like you haven’t seen him in forever and all you can think about is how nice it would be to hug him.
“Shit,” someone curses—you can’t tell who, but it sounds strained. “I said stay down, Y/N.”
There’s no bite to the words but you can tell it’s Zanka now. You can always tell; it’s hard not to when he says your name.
You’re being dragged forward, and when you’re flipped onto your back, you can see someone with white hair hover over you.
Rudo managed to pull you back towards them; you can see Zanka with his arm around his torso, using the pillar you’re all huddled close to for support. He’s clearly hurt, and you really want to help him and kiss his pains way, even as a scream rips through you when Rudo sits you up against the sturdy cement.
“Y/N,” your boyfriend calls almost sweetly. “Don’t ya move a muscle, we’re—”
A blood-thirsty scream rips through the silence and your own mixes with it when you’re roughly pulled away, once against violently dragged against the floor.
This time it’s Zanka who’s hovering, his expression riddled with worry. His hand is cradling the back of your head and he sets it down as gently as possible before jumping to hit Rudo with his vital instrument.
You feel the pain and lightheadedness wash over your body. It feels like you’re floating at some points, usually at the same time your vision starts to get blurry. There’s a series of crashes, grunts, thumps, and cracks that fill the space around you.
The vagueness of everything makes you realise that you’re losing consciousness, and surprisingly, it kickstarts Ayane.
The vital instrument absorbs enough sound energy to ground you; the vibrations enough to wake you up. You’re happy that somehow, you were still in the right mind to use your headphones to snap you awake—or maybe it’s just Ayane saving your ass; sometimes you think she has her own mind.
Groaning, you sit yourself up, and pain shoots from your head to your back—yet you power through, using Ayane’s vibrations to dull the pain. Your body feels like it’s filled with cotton at this point and you can imagine ants crawling along your skin, but it’s better than the agony your injuries bring.
The sight that greets you is a gruesome one.
Rudo’s down, you can see the tiniest scratch on his lower back, and Zanka is laying on his stomach as Jabber is squatting in front of him.
A terrified scream escapes from your lips as your boyfriend gets stabbed, his entire body stiffening up and trembling from the toxins.
“Oh!” Jabber turns to you, a playful smirk on his lips.
You can tell he’s tired despite his energy—if the blood covering him isn’t enough of an indicator, then the fact that he’s not even moving to hurt you gives it all away; he doesn’t want to fight anymore because he can’t.
He waves at you and grins. “Ms. Supersoldier is awake! Do you want some too?” His claws move side to side as he points it at you.
Slowly but surely, you stand up, your entire body glowing from how you’ve activated Ayane to be used throughout all of your body. You’ve had enough of this guy. Through the pain you grit your teeth, and through the anger your fists clench at your sides.
If looks could kill, Jabber would still be alive—you’d skin him to death before you even get close to granting him the freedom of death. And for once, you think you see a flicker of fear in his eyes, and it’s gone just as fast, replaced by his sadistic chuckles.
Before you know it he’s sprinting to Rudo, throwing him over his shoulder and booking it away from you. “Later, Ms. Supersoldier!”
Fine, you think. You can grant him a few seconds of grace.
Quickly, you hobble your way to Zanka and kneel beside him. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off. “I can’t do anything about the toxin but I don’t think he wants to kill you—he wants to fight; he just can’t right now.”
Zanka’s voice his stiff and his jaw is so tense you think he might crush his own teeth. You take it upon yourself to gently massage the side of his jaw. “Y-you’re—”
He stops talking when you place your hand softly on his cheek and you plant the smallest of kisses on his hair.
“I’m bleeding, I know,” you chuckle. “But if that Jabber bitch can go all out like that while he’s injured like a motherfucker, ya better believe I can too.”
You run your fingers through his hair once before you stand up again. “Meet me up there, honey. I’ll be quick, I promise.” With as much mischief you can muster, you wink at him and blow him a kiss.
He doesn’t have enough time before you’re running back to the exit.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
Running with a mostly-broken body hurts.
It feels like your ankles will break with every step, but when your body is constantly filled with deep thumping that make your skin crawl, it feels somehow better, but also worse.
You barely even notice your movements as your headphones numb any and all feeling in your body, but you use it to your advantage when you leap through the air to catch up with Jabber.
As you’re flying, your entire body glows brighter with light and energy, pretty much maxing out Ayane’s capabilities. At this moment you’re not quite moving your body; you’re using sound energy to move you like a puppet and its puppeteer.
Your body is recovering much slower than your mind is and you’re convinced that your brain is only running at this speed because of pure rage and desperation—to the point where its ignored all other sensations. All you can think of is run.
Run to get Rudo.
Run to get Jabber.
Run to save Gris.
Run to save Zanka.
And that you did. You moved so quickly that you managed to reach your opponent in under 5 seconds despite it feeling like an entire hour for you. He doesn’t even notice your presence before you’re landing a kick on his back, mentally apologizing to Rudo as he tumbles away from both of you.
“You think you can get away from me, you bitch!” The words escape you before you can even think to censor them around Rudo, your fingers grabbing Jabber by the hair and throwing him harshly towards a pillar, which crumbles beneath the force.
You leap towards him, throwing punch after punch to his face. When you see even the smallest hint of a smile on his face, you step back, your body almost getting swallowed by the bright light of your jinki as your hands raise steadily in front of you, directing a surge of sound energy towards his claws once again.
This time they shatter instantly, and Jabber gains enough strength to leap towards you and punch you in the face. There are no toxins or cuts from metal—his claws haven’t regenerated fast enough, though you think he might have broken your nose.
But instead of hitting you again, he runs. Away from the exit, away from Rudo, all while cackling like an asylum patient.
You’re running after him as his frenzied laughter reverberate through the basement.
“You’re batshit!” he yells, sounding deliriously delighted. “Keep going and you’ll make me think you’re as crazy as I am!”
You growl in response—loud and almost predatory as you force Ayane to make you move even faster. “I’m going to kill you.”
It’s barely audible, but clearly, he hears it.
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, still looking exhilarated, but with a hint of nerves this time.
However, when he looks back at you, there’s a wide, toothy smile on his face.
He lunges forward just as his claws fully grow back and aims right in front of him.
Just as Zanka’s body comes into view.
You hastily maneuver to the side, being able to grab Jabber by the back of his shirt and you both stumble into the shadows. He falls down and groans—his laughter only being interrupted for a second.
At this point, a little more of his insanity and it might rub off on you.
With the help of Ayane, you manage to keep yourself on your feet, but you can feel your energy rapidly depleting. You can’t power your jinki as much as you were able to when you started running after him, but you try anyway—the fight isn’t over yet.
Jabber stands to his full height, and when you leap forward, he jumps as well.
Except not at you.
It’s at Zanka again.
But this time you’re mid-air—weak, running on fumes, and absolutely not in the right mind to make any precise decisions. You turn to your side and throw your hands in front of you towards the ground. A surge of energy comes out, hitting the ground which propels you in front of Zanka.
In front of Jabber’s claws.
It’s not the brightest decision you’ve ever made. Perhaps Zanka’s right; distractions can be deadly.
But as you lay on the ground, mouth gaping in a silent scream when Jabber rips his claws out of your stomach, you can see your boyfriend laying several feet in front of you.
You aren’t even as close as you originally thought you were before you threw caution to the wind. You had the time to stop him some other way before he reached Zanka.
Jabber slowly turns your head towards him with his claws, making several cuts on your cheek in the process.
“Damn you’re good! Almost as good as me,” he hollers, crouching beside your head, claws still digging under your skin. “Almost. Because you get suicidal for Mr. Bad Attitude over there.”
He doesn’t waste any more time running away, but this time, you’re in no condition to chase him when you can feel the toxins run through your veins.
“See ya if ya live, Ms. Supersoldier!”
That’s the last thing you hear before he fades into the shadows and more blood pools under you. When you try to take a deep breath, there’s a sharp pain in your torso, and it sends you into a coughing fit that sends blood splattering onto the floor.
Great, you think. Internal bleeding.
“A-Ayane,” you rasp, looking up at the ceiling. “one…more time…p-please.”
You can feel the vibrations through your body but it’s weak, and the light from your jinki just at the corner of your eye begins to blink. It jumps back into life…then fades into nothing.
There’s nothing.
You’re done for.
And you know you are when you hear Zanka begin to stir, peeling himself off of the floor and walks forward—towards the exit.
He didn’t see you.
How could he? You’re shrouded in darkness, too far for him to see, too motionless for him to sense your presence.
You’re not sure if it breaks your heart more to hear his footsteps get farther, or the realization that you won’t be able to make good on your promise to him.
You just hope that he knows you tried.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
It’s not long after Jabber finally gets out of that building that he gets hit and cornered by the rest of the Cleaners—Enjin looking absolutely furious.
The questioning isn’t effective, either. The only thing they get from the crazed Raider is a few gross comments about getting hard and a monologue they don’t quite find it in themselves to care for.
They let him go for the most part, without fighting the Raider that came to get him. The priority is for Tomme and the rest to go get the people left in the basement—especially Gris.
But it seems even after his brief spat with a mostly-paralyzed Rudo, Jabber still wants to get the last word in, looking at all of them with a sinister grin and a frantic look in his bulging eyes.
“You better get your little team member down there,” he giggles. “I’d love it if I get to fight Ms. Supersoldier again. Sorry I had to play a little dirty.”
Soon after the manhole disappears, Tomme and the others come back, carefully carrying Gris and letting Enjin know that they’ll come back for Zanka and you.
The Cleaners are all confused to hear that you’re even there—but Enjin only sighs when he remembers how vague Semiu had been when he asked about your whereabouts. Of course you’d follow.
Anywhere Zanka goes, you go. Maybe he’s yet to learn his lesson when it comes to you.
But before anyone can go back down, Zanka comes jumping up that hole to the basement, dusting off his clothes and looking like absolute shit. He’s covered in debris and his muscles look stiff.
The effects of the toxins aren’t done just yet. It’s just that he managed to crawl through the pain and paralyzation, taking a page from Rudo’s book and just tanking it, he guesses.
He still can’t move much, and so he sits down, panting from the exhaustion of it all. He looks up and waves off everyone else. “I’m up, I’m up,” he grumbles. “Where’s Y/N? I need to yell at her for following—”
He freezes when he looks around.
You aren’t here.
But you promised?
Fear washes over him and his gaze lands on a confused Enjin. “W-Where’s Y/N? She said she’d meet me here after—”
“She’s not up here,” the blond mutters, his eyebrows creasing with masked worry.
Tomme nervously speaks from beside Gris. “She wasn’t where we passed by.”
“She wasn’t with me, either,” Zanka adds, almost breathless. He thinks that maybe if he looks hard enough, he’ll see you in the crowd, but almost every one of his friends are as lost as him. “I was the farthest from everyone else.”
Enjin quickly orders everybody to go down, demanding that Zanka and Rudo remain where they are, sending a pointed look to the former when he tries to get up. The only ones left are Eisha, who’s working on Gris and the rest of the Supporters.
They all know that you’re down there.
It’s just that when the others were all incapacitated, the battle had taken a pretty clear path. Either they’re close to the exit or they were far from it, but none strayed far from the straight line they had been running.
Zanka steadies his breathing when he realizes that he truly has no idea where you are.
“She got to me,” Rudo says from a few feet away, straining as he tries to sit up and lean against some rubble. “She kicked that shithead’s ass but he ran back towards ya.”
“Y/N chased after him?” Zanka asks, though he’s quite sure of the answer.
The boy nods wordlessly.
It feels like hours to him before everyone finally gets back up. At this point the effects of the toxin is tolerable enough that Zanka jumps up when he sees Enjin.
This is because it’s clear that the blond is carrying a body, and a wave of relief hits him like a truck when he recognizes your clothes.
God you must have been exhausted. He saw you take on Jabber like no one else—warmth spreads across his chest and he’s filled with pride. It’s unexpected. Usually he’d be jealous when someone shows the amount of talent that you did at your age, but surprisingly, there’s nothing else aside from respect and happiness that you’re safe. He makes a mental note to pamper you with affection after how he’s treated you the past few days.
It’s really only when he sees you with a bleeding head that guilt begins to knawe at him. He’d been nothing but dismissive of you, even yelling at you before this mission, only for you to follow and save their asses even if you did end up getting banged up in the end.
He assumed it’s because you thought he’s incapable or weak; that maybe you followed because you felt the need to babysit him.
But when you were crawling desperately back to him despite your injuries, and when he saw that faint smile, the relief on your face, when you saw that he was safe; he finally figured out that it’s not that complicated.
You want to see him safe just as much as he wants to see you safe.
The bubble of relief that he was blessed with was quickly and aggressively popped when he sees the blood dripping from Enjin’s arms. More blood than he expected.
Way too much blood.
It’s then that he notices the grim look on everyone’s face, how they send him worried, pitiful glances.
He runs to you and he forgets to breathe.
You’re pale; the colour of a corpse. There’s red dripping from your mouth and painting most of your stomach
“Shit…” Rudo breaths out, and he feels a pang in his chest when he thinks of how you would’ve reprimanded him for cursing.
Zanka is still holding his breath when he raises his hand to touch your cheek. His entire body flinches at the slight contact.
You’re cold.
And now that he’s gotten a better look at you, your breathing is dangerously shallow.
He didn’t even try. He didn’t even try to look for you on his way to the exit. He trusted you’d keep your word—that you’d be safe. Surely someone as strong as you didn’t need help from him, right?
And yet, despite his hurtful words towards you, and how you’ve always expressed how strong you think he is, you still followed him to this mission.
All because you cared.
Does that mean he doesn’t care enough?
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STANDING THERE?” he snaps, eyes almost as crazed as the one who did this to you. “GO HEAL HER, EISHIA!”
He points to the healer, hands shaking in fear.
“N-Not here, Zanka. Gris is already—”
“THEN WHATS THE POINT OF YOU??”
Zanka could see the hurt in Eishia’s eyes but he couldn’t care less. He takes you from Enjin’s arms and walks over to the healer, but Enjin lays a steady hand on his shoulder and pointed to the car with his free one.
“We need to get her to HQ.”
Silently, Zanka makes his way to the vehicle and manages to rip open the door with his hand despite you being in his arms; in his panic, he yells insults at everyone else he thinks is too slow to move to the car.
In the mere seconds that he’s alone he squeezes you tightly. There’s a make-shift bandage around your torso and your head, much like you did with Gris—but your wound looks more fresh and less healed—you’re much paler than the injured Supporter and sustained more damage.
His breath hitches when he realizes that if Gris is teetering at the edge of death after he’d received much more medical attention that you have, then what would happen to you?
He lets out the quietest of whimpers when he remembers how dark it was down there.
You must have spent so much time alone in the shadows, bleeding out while he makes his way up, not even giving it a second thought that you were just fine.
He’d left you alone.
And the worst part is he hadn’t left you alone just now. He’d left you alone since his training with Rudo.
He’d left you alone because he was embarrassed; yet you still made sure to protect him even when you were laying on a pool of your own blood from a head wound—during a mission you weren’t even supposed to be in.
If you die now, Jabber may as well have killed him, too.
Or would he have killed you because he didn’t try enough?
He hopes that you know he would’ve.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
Waiting for Eishia to finish patching you up is worse than training Rudo. He’d take several days of that than this—and he’d do it with a smile, now that he knows this agony. He’s the only one left in the hallway now. The rest went to grab some snacks.
They were all told that it’d take a while for you to heal, unlike Gris who, despite taking a lot of damage as well, was already up. Meanwhile, Enjin had to accompany Eishia and an unconscious you to Alice—the damage you sustained was far worse than originally thought.
There’s the head wound, which he saw happen with his own eyes, then the stabbing. The former was bad enough to almost knock you unconscious—he doesn’t even know how you manage to get up from that.
It amazes him.
But he curses your strength. If you aren’t so powerful maybe you would have never chased after them; maybe you’d be safe. Scratched up, yes, but the worst of it would have only been a head wound.
Apparently, Jabber upped the dosage of poison to your system to a level was should’ve been enough to kill you. Rudo and him got away with less than an hour of paralysis before they’re walking again.
But there seemed to have been intent to kill when it was you who faced that Raider. By some miracle you managed to pull through, and as much as Zanka would like to think that maybe Jabber meant to spare you after all, he believes it’s just pure luck, maybe strength and sheer willpower, that you stayed alive.
Enjin said that the working theory is that you, with the help of Ayane, somehow managed to heal your body—but at a very, dangerously slow pace. Follo had informed them what you did with Gris, and maybe you did the same for yourself, but you weren’t conscious enough to make it as effective.
It was more of a last-ditch effort to stay alive as long as possible, according to Enjin.
Clearly, since Gris is already well enough to have gone back to his room but Zanka is still sitting on the bench, with a bowl of beef noodle soup that’s gone cold for the third time since they got back. It’d been three days of this.
He hasn’t even seen you yet. He can, but he doesn’t think he can bear to see you unconscious and gravely injured. Everyone else has come by and checked in on you, even on him, but none have managed to convince him to enter the room. Despite it being a shared room, you’re the only one there; a constant reminder to him that you’re the only casualty during their run-in with the Raiders.
Zanka looks at the bowl next to him, his fists gripping the fabric of his pants, teeth grinding in frustration.
You’d been the only casualty because he was so weak you had to fight alone.
During a mission he insisted on leading.
He wonders what would’ve happened if you didn’t come along. Would he be in your place? If he were, he’s sure you’d be at his bedside, waiting for him to wake up, talking to him and encouraging him to open his eyes.
He wasn’t strong enough to fight Jabber—and now he’s not even strong enough to look at you.
His head swivels to the door of your room when he hears a loud thud and a low grunt—he moves before his mind can catch up to him. Is someone breaking in through the window to hurt you? Have the Raiders somehow broken in to finish the job?
Is he too late to save you again?
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
It’s a stupid decision, really. You seem to be doing a lot of stupid things recently.
But when you woke up and saw the empty room, how it’s so quiet it almost hurt your ears, you couldn’t resist calling out to someone to see if anyone’s there. You had passed out all alone. Waking up the same way made your heart sink in the worst way possible.
You try to speak but nothing comes out. There wasn’t anything but a wheeze. A low, quiet one that made your throat feel so hoarse you had to force an in-coming coughing fit to stop. If you did cough, you’re almost certain your lungs will start bleeding.
You know the logical thing to do was to wait until someone comes in, but the feeling in your chest says otherwise—your heart was pounding, and your ribcage feels like it’s getting so small that there wasn’t any space to breathe. If you don’t do anything, you’d end up scratching a hole in your chest just to try and get oxygen.
Which is how you ended up falling on your ass on the floor, right after you attempted to leave your hospital bed.
You mentally curse at yourself as you weakly try to get up, but your arms feel too heavy, and your legs won’t move so much as an inch. The body you once moved so effortlessly during the worst of fights in the worst of conditions is now being outdone by gravity.
“Shit,” someone mutters from the doorway.
And when you turn your head, you see a very stiff, very distraught-looking Zanka staring back at you. There are too many emotions swimming within his eyes that you can’t discern them one by one—he’s just looking at you. Looking at your soul, maybe, with how intense he looks.
You can clearly see you’re not in the most flattering state right now. There’s an I.V sticking out the back of your hand, you’re in a hospital gown, and you’re on the floor, struggling to get up.
It must’ve been really bad, you think. Most of the time you’re left to wear your own clothes, since healing doesn’t usually take so long that it requires easy access to your body.
But with the thick bandage you can feel around your midsection, there’s definitely a need to keep an eye on that wound.
You only manage to smile softly at your boyfriend, weakly raising your hand to wave while mouthing a silent “hello”.
Wordlessly, he strides toward you, his clothes billowing behind him at his speed. His face is blank and he gently swoops you in his arms, placing you down on your bed.
“Can’t stay in bed now, can ya?” he mutters, fluffing the sides of your pillow and draping a blanket over you. The silence is surprisingly tense while he frets, smoothing over every wrinkle on the bedsheet and even tucking you in.
You let it happen. Zanka has been distant for so long that the warmth of his care fills your entire body; almost erases the pain.
But of course, even good things come to an end, and he eventually stops in favour of pulling up a chair so he can sit at your bedside. All he does is stare. There’s no deciphering what’s in his mind unless you use Ayane, but last time you did, there wasn’t any good news.
Staring back at him, tears start to well in your eyes, and his fists clench before he sighs, slumping back onto the back rest of his seat. “I…I’m glad you’re okay.”
His shoulder begins to tense up, eyes wandering to the floor. “That was stupid. Ya hear me? You should’ve run away. Should’ve never followed us.”
“Sorry.” That’s all you could muster. The rasp in your voice is so bad that it’s barely intelligible, and you know he hears it when his eyebrows give you the slightest twitch.
He fetches you a glass of water from the pitcher that someone had left on your bedside table. Ever so quiet, he brings the rim of the cup to your lips, the liquid flowing down your throat.
It feels like the first sip you’ve had in 10 years and it makes your eyes water again from the sheer relief—the tears, however, keep coming when you feel Zanka’s fingers gently graze under your chin.
When he sets it back down, he wipes away the tears that fall down your cheek. “Does anything hurt?” he whispers, almost like if he spoke any louder you might break. “D’ya want me to get Eishia?”
You shake your head and slowly lean forward, the pain making it a big struggle especially when he tries to push you back down. He couldn’t—not when you wrap your arms around him, your chin resting on his shoulder.
He sits down beside you only to return your embrace. It makes you tense up for a moment but you relax into it when you realize that Zanka fully accepted the physical contact.
Due to the pain, the medication, and the company, you can feel yourself beginning to succumb to the pull of sleep; your eyes droop against your will and it only takes a few seconds before you’re knocked it.
It’s not long until you wake up again, but this time, everyone is present, either leaning against the wall, sitting down, or standing up with their feet tapping on the floor. Apparently Eishia notified them that you were stirring awake.
The entirety of Team Akuta waited patiently until you were fully conscious; though with the amount of noise you woke up to, they weren’t exactly quiet.
“Hey!” Enjin hollers, striding towards your bedside to give you a pat on the shoulder that’s a bit too heavy handed; you flinch. “Welcome back from the dead, lil miss poison control!”
He earns a glare from Zanka but you laugh it off, though a bit confused and breathy with how hoarse your throat is. It’s become much better after more water and another day’s sleep.
“What happened?” you ask, looking around the group.
“You got stabbed and drugged big time,” Riyo chimes in. “Alice said the poison’s still in your system.”
You cringe, not liking how the implication that you have a long way to go in terms of recovery. If Alice had to be involved then it must be pretty bad. The thought of having Jabber’s mysterious poison concoction in your bloodstream is not the most comforting in the world—especially not after seeing how crazy it made him. You’re grateful nonetheless that despite the dire circumstances you found yourselves in, everyone pretty much made in unscathed aside from you and Gris.
And from what you hear, Gris is doing just fine compared to you, which made you incredibly relieved.
“That means no training for a month,” Enjin teases, though you can sense the serious undertone. He really does mean it even if it’s lighthearted. “Isn’t that fun? You get a month off!”
You groan in defeat, somehow sinking deeper into your hospital bed as you feel Zanka’s hand rub your arm in reassurance. “I’m gonna rot here,” you grumble.
Just then, Rudo, who’s been standing the farthest away from you with his head down, finally spoke, though very hesitantly. “We’ll keep you company. I’ll get Dear and Guita if you want to move around a bit…”
The slight shake in his voice is clear. His eyes are cast down, evading eye contact as his hands ball into fists, gripping the hem of his sweater.
You weakly hold a hand out to the boy. “Come here, Rudo.”
With slow, unsure steps, he moves toward you but he doesn’t move his hands from their tight grip on his clothes.
You wrap your hand around his forearm cautiously, using your thumb to trace soothing circles over his long sleeves so he can feel it more than if you had held his gloves. “It’s not your fault, kid.”
His eyes snap to yours—almost as if he’s surprised. “B-But I couldn’t—”
With your free hand you hold your index finger up to shush him. “It wasn’t your job to protect me. I’m the older one. It’s the other way around, got it?” You try to muster the sternest look you can give him but you aren’t sure if you succeed, since your energy is currently at the negative numbers right now. You settle with softly squeezing his arm. “I wasn’t even supposed to be there. This,” you gesture to yourself. “Is the result of my own decisions. Not your actions or inactions.”
Rudo squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head down, practically white-knuckling his sweater hem as tears fall down his cheeks; you’re quick to wipe them away.
“It’s not your fault,” you whisper once more.
You can see that Enjin was about to say something when Rudo lifts his head up slowly, and the blond shut his mouth when the kid’s face came into view, unobscured by his hair.
Rudo was giving you…a frankly terrifying facial expression. His eyes are impossibly wide and his mouth is…grimacing? Snarling? The corners of his lips practically reach his ears in a disturbingly alarming, extremely threatening, way.
Your boyfriend stands up and angrily points at the boy. “Hey! My girlfriend here was sweet as fuck! What are ya making that face for, ya scuzzball?!”
The expression is dropped immediately and you can tell he’s about to retaliate when you sit up too quickly, grunting and letting go of Rudo in favour of supporting your mid-section.
Zanka is quick to forget his little argument to fuss over you, mumbling about how you’re too impulsive for your own good, and insisting you lay back down only to be met with a firm shake of your head.
“Zanka,” you call out, patting the top of his head. “I’m okay, I promise. Sit back down.”
And he does, although he looks like a kicked puppy whose glare can kill the boy on the other side of your bed, who looks both confused, agitated, and guilty all at the same time.
You assess him for a moment, trying to decipher what could have possibly triggered Rudo to make such a face when he’s usually the sweetest person around you and your other friends.
It’s then that you remember how socially awkward he is. How he’s pretty much inept with anything involving interactions with other people. He’s a weirdo but in a lovable way, and incredibly reckless and unpredictable even in the smallest, insignificant circumstances.
If you don’t know any better, you would have assumed the same as Zanka. That he’s disrespecting you in his own odd way.
But judging by how he was showing his teeth—you think you can take a wild guess.
“Rudo were you…” you giggle, looking around at Enjin, Riyo, and your boyfriend to see if anyone else have the same thoughts as you. Everyone seems interested in the unfolding events but Zanka looks like he’s about to pop a vein with how hard he’s trying to keep his anger at bay. “Were you trying to smile?”
Just then, the white-haired boy makes a face of utter surprise and relief. “Y-yes. I thought it might make you feel better,” he mumbles.
You burst out laughing uncontrollably at the same time that Enjin does. Riyo joins in, although her chuckles are a lot softer compared to your cackling, all the while Zanka looks absolutely horrified by the revelation.
You and Enjin are crying at this point, but your tears are partially due to the searing pain that stabs at your stomach with every burst of breath that escapes your lungs.
The coughing fit that starts from deep in your chest fails to stop you, but it does prompt Enjin to stand beside Rudo and rest an arm around his shoulders, wiping the tears that are threatening to fall. “Alrigh, alright, I think we need to give her some time to rest. Any more of this and she might rip her stitches.”
Riyo goes to you as well, ruffling your hair before smoothing it down. She turns to Rudo when your laughs begin to calm down. “Maybe you should hold off on smiling,” she smirks, finding the confused Rudo and a borderline-traumatised Zanka more entertaining than fighting trash beasts
“We should—" Enjin stops himself, his eyes looking far off as he remembers something. “Oh yeah, I forgot to ask…” he trails off, keeping his arm around Rudo but looking inquisitive. “That Raider said he’s sorry for playing dirty. Is that how he beat you up so badly? Rudo said you almost crushed that Jabber guy!”
Zanka growls and grinds his teeth, his hand reaching out to yours, holding it almost protectively. “I’m gonna kill him the next time I see him…” He’s looking so intently at your connected hands but he doesn’t look like he’s all there, like his mind is somewhere else.
You frown at the memory, glancing at Zanka for a moment before forcing your eyes away and craning your neck towards Enjin. “Yeah.” There’s a beat of silence. “He went for Zanka.”
Your boyfriend whips his head up, sending a sharp look to you. “And ya got stabbed because what? Ya took the hit for me?”
Sighing, you let yourself fall back onto your bed, just barely able to suppress a grunt of pain when your back hit the soft mattress. You stare up at the ceiling, your hands holding tightly onto Zanka’s.
“I didn’t intend to. I was pretty much half-conscious by that point. I used Ayane to move me around instead of actually moving. I couldn’t measure the distance—I thought he was one jump away from digging his claws into you so I wasn’t really thinking. You didn’t see me because I was too far away,” you explained, grimacing when you remember the sight of Zanka’s limping form. “He did it twice. Ran away from Rudo just to pretend like he was going to hurt you. It was a fake-out but obviously I was too out of it to realize.”
From the corner of your eye, you see Enjin open his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “Can I speak with Zanka alone, please?” you ask no one in particular, keeping your eyes to the ceiling.
No one really says anything before they leave, not even Enjin, who would usually get the last word in via an untimely joke.
You shut your eyes and one of your hands let go of Zanka just to clutch at the blanket covering your legs. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten distracted. I’m sorry. I know you hate that.”
With a half-hearted huff, he puts a hand on your arm, rubbing soothingly up and down. “Ignore me. Don’t think about that.”
He isn’t snippy by any means, but his answers are short and clipped—he can’t look into your eyes for long, too. You can tell there’s something on his mind, and you think you know what it is.
“You don’t have to stay here, you know.” Your lip starts to quiver. You take your hand and arm away from his hold so you can pull the blanket out of your neck and turn your back to him. It doesn’t even take a full minute before you start to sniffle.
“Wha—” He reaches for you, but you flinch away when his fingers make contact with your shoulder. “Hey, Y/N, what the fuck—”
Despite swallowing hard, the lump in your throat only seems to get bigger. “I used Ayane—I heard you. I’m sorry.” Shame builds up in your chest and you have to gulp down the bile that rushes up your throat. “I know you want to break up with me. It’s okay, we can talk about this when—”
“Huh?!”
The sheer volume of his voice makes your heart jump. Then—confusion. Why does he sound confused??
A rush of footsteps is heard going around your bed, stopping just in front of you before you’re face-to-face with him. He kneels onto the floor, hands clutching the side of your bed with his eyes bugging out of their sockets. “The fuck are ya talking about?? Is Ayane broken or some shit??”
Instead of letting relief wash over you, too terrified to give into hope, you clutch onto your midsection and sit up sideways, your left arm supporting your body weight. “I heard you!” you accuse, though weakly. “In the cafeteria. You were thinking that if you leave me, you won’t be distracted anymore!”
Try as you might, with the shakiness of your voice due to the strain you’re putting on your body, there’s just not enough energy for you to sound as mad as you wanted to.
The way your own voice sounds to you hurts your ears. The desperation laced within it isn’t how you’d imagine this conversation would go. Ideally, it would be more adult-sounding, maybe amicable; you always thought you’d be able to accept if anything like this happens.
Zanka is no stranger to you. You know he puts his training and improvement above anything else—including you.
His mouth opens and closes, eyebrows creased thoughtfully, and his eyes get lost in yours for a second, as if he’s fishing for a memory he can’t quite grasp. Then, it all seems to come crashing down on him, and his hold on your mattress tightens, his teeth grinds and then—
His forehead touches your bed, falling face-first, and then he groans. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, muffled, but intelligible enough. Zanka raises his head back to face you. “I did—I considered it,” he admits, causing your eyes to glisten, tears threatening to spill down.
But before you could lay back down onto the bed, Zanka reaches forward to cup your cheek gently in one hand. “Not for long, I promise. I was just…I was embarrassed, is all.”
You scooch over a bit to make space for him, silently patting the space beside you as an olive branch. You can’t bring yourself to speak. He’s being vulnerable, and you’re afraid that even a small peep from you might spook him into silence.
He looks just a tiny bit relieved at the gesture and sits down next to you, Wordlessly, he opens his arms and looks at you reluctantly, almost like he’s asking for permission.
You lean forward and let yourself be embraced by, and you’d swear on it, the warmest, most inviting arms you’ve ever been held by. His tense shoulders relax when he feels your body against him, and he thinks his heart might have skipped a few beats when your arms loosely wrap around his torso.
Zanka nuzzles his face in your hair and breathes you in. “I got distracted when I saw ya—that time I was training Rudo? Yeah. I thought I was so weak. I couldn’t even train properly.” He huffs and holds you a little tighter. “Enjin says I’m whipped.”
When he feels you giggle, he can’t help but join you.
“I didn’t want to be,” he continues. “If I really am, then that means I can’t protect you.”
“But—”
“I know,” he interjects. “Ya can protect yourself. Even held your own with that Jabber guy. So don’t apologize, ya hear? Just—” he trails off, shifting a bit so he can use one of his hands to lift your head up to him, his fingers under your chin and his breaths fan your lips. “Just stay here. I won’t leave ya. You don’t have to do nothin’—just be here. Distract me. Give me someone to protect.”
Right then and there, mere inches away from his face, you can finally read his eyes. The emotions that swim right behind his irises.
There’s fear, somewhere in there. Heavily guarded. Even now, despite being completely and utterly relaxed by your presence, there’s still a haze of reluctance. An almost-automatic need to be strong even in the face of anguish.
But this is more than you can ask for from him.
You nod.
And without any other words, you bury your face in his chest, feeling his heartbeat.
His arms wrap protectively around you once more, fingers running through your hair, his legs tangling with yours with the utmost care and caution as to not mess with the wires and tubes still connected to you.
“Let’s talk about the rest when your ass is fully healed,” he whispers. “I’m not leaving, so we have all the time in the world.”
SUMMARY: While sorting your feelings out about your newly acquired ability, you can't help but feel the urge to do more for your country for the sake of both your kind and yourself. After pulling a few strings, you decide to do just that.
A/N : SECOND CHAPTER EVER YEAHHH, definitely procrastinated this. Whoops. Also a repost cuz my blog wasn't visible for a second. I'm always looking for comments so please feel free to leave any. I'd greatly appreciate them
You heave as you throw yourself onto your bed. What was supposed to be a simple walk for some ice cream, became not one, but two moral issues. You sigh as you sink further into your soft mattress, the squishy exterior wrapping itself around your body.
“Dirty Eldians.”
The voice of the officer rings in your mind like an echo through an empty hall.
Your entire life, you’ve never been fond of the blood that runs through your veins.
“I’ve always been told that I have the blood of sinners coursing through me. That your ancestors were crooked and evil, and that I-“
Your imagination immediately flashes back to the tall man firmly grasping your sister’s head.
“No, that we have to pay for their crimes. But why? Unlike the devils in Paradis Island, we’re not barbarians. Not only that, but we serve Marley. We’re loyal. Not just the Tyburs, but all of the Eldians here.”
Your brow furrows as you pinch the bridge of your nose. You feel tears form at the back of your eyes that eventually roll down your face
“What would I have to do to prove that Eldians in Marley are nothing below pure blooded Marleyans..?”
You let your eyes droop and eventually succumb to your fatigue, allowing yourself to sleep.
As you rest, your mind shuffles through memories. Not yours, but others. The Warhammers before you. You recall Willy briefly mentioning something about this. “Like your ancestors giving you a hand.”- he said.
Your mind begins to slip into the consciousness of another; one of the Warhammers prior to you. As you adjust to the new body, you begin to process the scenery before you.
You’re sitting in the family’s living room, hands moving in slow consistent movements as you slowly form a row of grey yarn. Knitting. It’s a hobby you’ve grown to love over the years, despite it’s slow and tedious nature. Looking outside the window, you see the hot summer sun shining on the street outside.
You decide to stay in today and focus on trying to get your new project started.
As time passes by, rows of yarn are intertwined and locked together, your work slowly but surely taking shape. After what only felt like a few seconds, a sense of pride washes over you while you stare at your final product.
A grey sweater.
“They’re gonna love this” you think to yourself, a smile creeping up your face.
The grey sweater is some of your finest works. Despite knitting not being a frequent hobby of yours, you decided to pick it up one last time; for old time’s sake.
It’s a simple sweater, really. There are no intricate patterns nor any flashy designs, but that adds to it’s charm.
Gently placing the sweater down on the chair, you stand up and look outside the window. Orange leaves are scattered on the street as far as the eye can see.
“Great day for one last walk.” Walking towards the door you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your 20s haven’t been the kindest to you. Slight black stubble had grown on your chin but it never really formed into a beard, only stopping at an awkward space between clean shave and “bearded”.
You turn toward the mirror and adjust your collar, appreciating how the white polo and black pants complimented your grey blazer. “Not a bad outfit to go out in.” you say to yourself.
Stepping outside you see Willy, with a small child in hand. Their face is blank, almost expressionless.
“Willy!” you call out, opening your arms and inviting him in.
There’s a quick exchange pleasantries and hugs before you turn to greet the child.
They’re sleepy, and rightfully so, especially at this hour. You smile and pat them on the head, your other hand slowly revealing your gift. “I made it myself, think of it as a gift.”
The child smiles and gives you a half slurred “thank you”, you can tell that they’re too sleepy to notice it’s for them. You can only hope that they’ll enjoy your parting gift when they wake up properly after what’s to come later.
Suddenly, your consciousness returns to you. Taking a look around your room, now almost fully covered in shadows, your eyes land on one thing. Illuminated by the moonlight in your dark room is one grey sweater, laid carelessly on the floor. Your chest sinks as you realize what that meant.
The feeling of dread washes over you, finally you’re forced to come face to face with the fact that you put an end to their life. Your chest tightens as you try to process the weight of what you’ve done. The idea of putting an end to someone’s life is not a light one, and yet you’ve done it so casually. And for what purpose?
You recall the unnamed relative’s memories. From start to end, they lived a life no different from yours up until that point. They lived only to die 13 years after receiving the titan.
You grip the sweater, tight enough to risk a tear.
“They were treated like cattle, existing only for the purpose of passing on The Warhammer.”
You decide that something must change, and that tomorrow would mark it’s beginning.
-
“I’ll be joining the Warriors as an honorary member.” your voice echoes through the room as silence follows.
Your hands land at the back of your skull, grasping your scalp.
“How do I even announce such a thing? It’s not like I can chicken out, I already pulled the strings-“
Thanks to the help of a few family ties, namely one Theo Magath, you’ve been registered as an honorary Warrior to be freely deployed and assist the others as Marley wills. “Just one final step and you’ll be ready” according to him.
But how do you even begin to bring that up to your family? You originally felt like they couldn’t stop you, and technically speaking they can’t. You posses the power that keeps them relevant politically, and putting a halt on your actions would mean actively going against Pro Marley movements which would be devastating for the family’s public image.
In spite of that, anxiety slowly creeps up from your chest up to your neck as you try to visualize how your family would react to the absurd news. The looks of disappointment, the shock, the fear. The verbal disagreements.
“You’re a disgrace.”
“What are you thinking?”
“What the hell??”
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” a voice booms from behind you
Your heart drops as you turn around. You look through your, now unlocked and fully opened, room door to see a servant with a tray of food in hand. Behind him is none other than the head of our family, Willy Tybur.
Moving past the servant he kneels down and places both hands on your shoulders. He asks again.
“Are. You. Serious?”
Something in his voice is odd. His tone is as if he isn’t exactly against it. It feels as if he’s not here to scold you or convince you otherwise, but rather he’s here to genuinely ask if you were joking or if your intent to join the Warriors is real.
Closing your eyes, take a deep breath and gulp. Well, now or never
“Yes.. I’ve already spoken with Theo Maggath and several other officers. I am only awai-”
You’re interrupted by your family’s head gripping your shoulder tighter than you’d expected. Looking up and meeting his gaze, you see his eyes are serious; yet they hold no malice.
“What exactly do you plan to accomplish with this?”
You take a moment to process the question, trying to formulate a satisfying answer.
“I plan to serve Marley as best I can with my new power. We have soldiers both Eldian and Marleyan out there dying for our cause while I have the power to do something about it. I cannot sit still and let that happen.”
You break out of his grasp and continue, hoping that he’s still listening and considering your side. His arms fall to his side as he continues to intently watch your every move.
“The Warhammer is incredible. It’s raw strength is nothing to write home about, but it’s hardening ability is unmatched. It’s even capable of disposing of more advanced weaponry that the other titans would struggle against-.”
You pace the room. Your mind recalling the image of your soldiers, your fellow Eldians, being sent out to war.
“The idea of withholding that power while our blood fights for our country is-. It feels wrong. I’ve been given the power to change things. I want to act on that. And-“
“Okay.” Willy interrupts, standing up and brushing himself off. You can’t help but feel a bit of fear, after all he is the head of the family.
“I’ve heard enough.” He turns around and faces the servant, still standing and listening intently on the conversation. “Return to the kitchen for a moment. And do not speak of this to anyone. Not a soul, understood?”
The servant nods and hastily leaves, closing the door behind him. Willy sighs as he considers his next words carefully.
“I understand.. You have power, you want to use it for good. That’s only natural.” He takes a few seconds of silence to collect his thoughts, you feel a slight rise in anxiety at the end of every sentence. As if expecting a resounding objection out of the blue.
“But, I want to ensure that your decision is not rash. Which is why, I will support it. Under one condition.”
Your chest tightens, what condition? That you don’t use the titan during your time in the military? That you work under an alias?
“That you first spar with the other warriors.”
-
You’re not entirely sure how you got here in the first place. Just a few days ago your entire plan had just been a day dream. Now you’re here. In the middle of an open field. Sun on your neck. And gathered around your is the family’s leader and the group you’ve always looked up to.
The Warriors.
You can’t help but feel nervous. You suddenly grow aware of all the beads of sweat rolling down your face. All of them had been brought here by Willy by carriage, but why? Tear you a new one? Recruit you? Is your nervousness obvious? Did you eat enough today? How do you breathe? Is it two in, one out? Your mind runs rampant as you fall victim to the tension.
“Alright!” Willy speaks up, clasping his hands together and turning around. “Good morning! I appreciate you honoring your last minute request. I know that you are all on your breaks, but I have a matter of utmost importance.”
Willy takes a few steps towards you before placing his hand on your head
“The Tybur family, as you know, possesses one of the 9 Titan Powers.”
“The Warhammer.” The girl with the black hair chimes in
“Yes. The Warhammer. And this, here.” he lightly pats your head
“Is our Warhammer. And Y/N here has applied to be an honorary Warrior”
The group all offer their own form of surprise. The short haired blond raises his eyebrows, the timid black haired boy beside him has a more shocked expression. Almost everybody else offers a similar surprised yet quiet reaction.
“But-” the blond takes a step forward, facing Willy.
“Doesn’t your family’s strength rely on the Warhammer being hidden? Do you plan on revealing it publicly?”
Willy closes his eyes and nods. “Well, originally. But, Y/N decided they didn’t want to remain stagnant. Which is why they’re here with you all today.”
Willy takes another few steps, placing himself in the middle of the group
“I’d like you all to spar with them. Not as a means of convincing him otherwise, but-”
“A Hazing.” The blond girl says, her expression remaining flat
“Precisely.” Willy agrees.
“Well then! Not all of you are required to participate, but I do hope some of you are willing to humor your request. I know it is a sudden one, thus any form of compliance is deeply appreciated. Any questions?”
Looking around, nobody seems to have any at the moment. At least, none they think are worth voicing out. Willy nods, as he turns around. Planning to leave the premises, he opens the carriage door and signals the driver to take off.
“I’ll be back in half an hour or so. Again, thank you.” he shoots a smile towards the group before the carriage leaves.
Now you’re left here, alone. In the middle of a group.
The tension is unbearable, thankfully you hear one of the group members clear their throat before speaking.
“Well then.” Turning around, you see the taller blond of the group clear his throat. He adjusts his glasses before speaking.
“I suppose introductions are in order, before anything else. Since we’re in a bit of a time crunch, I’ll shorten things-“
He grabs your shoulder and rotates you as he points towards the various members of the group.
“Blondie with the short hair, Reiner. Armored Titan. Blondie with the long hair in a bun, Annie. Female Titan.”
“Short brown hair, Marcel. Jaw Titan.” Nodding along your brain works overtime trying to remember all the new names and faces.
“Short black hair, Berdholdt. Colossal Titan.” Your eyes widen. You recall being told of the destructive capabilities of the Colossal. You shiver at the thought of even trying to fight that.
“Finally, long black hair. Pieck. Cart Titan.” Your eyes fall on the long black haired girl. The one you most often see out and around near where you live. You smile, it’s nice to see a familiar face.
“And of course there’s me. Short haired blond with glasses, taller than Reiner.” he rests his hand on his chest “Zeke. Beast Titan.”
You nod, giving the group one last glance in order to let the names sink in. “Understood. Thank you. Now, shall we begin?”
You look around, seeing everyone generally agree. Some seem hesitant but there’s you know you need to make it quick. You pat your pocket, feeling for Willy’s present. Nodding, you immediately turn around and break into a sprint.
“Pfft, already??” Annie remarks, stifling a laugh.
“I didn’t expect him to go that quickly-” Zeke replies, adjusting his glasses. Evidently everyone had their doubts, but none of them thought you would bolt the second you got the chance.
The rest of the group is immediately struck with confusion as you turn around and yell-
“Ready! Count us down!”
Stunned, it takes a moment for anyone in the group to humor your request. There’s a moment of mumbling and shared looks of confusion before Zeke meets your gaze and nods.
“R-right.. Okay.” Zeke continues, confusion lingering in his voice.
“Three, Two, One-”
Grabbing the pocket knife handed to you by Willy, you unsheathe it and slice your palm open.
A sharp pain rushes through your body. You’ve never been one for roughhousing, so it’s only natural that suddenly slicing open your palm hurts. In fact, it hurts a lot.
You grasp your arm, sharp breaths slide through gritted teeth as you try to focus. Looking up, you see the group. Some amused, some confused, some pulling out their own forms of weaponry to presumably follow your lead.
I need to do this, I need this. I need to carry through. I can’t chicken out. It’s far too late.
You take a deep breath, focusing your mind on your goal. Your mind flashes back to the image of your fellow Eldians fighting on the battlefront.
“I need to prove myself.”
A warm yellow light envelopes your body before a loud burst of lightning strikes you. Immediately after, two other strikes strike the area in front of you.
As you open your eyes, you assume control of the Warhammer. Despite it being your first time, it comes to you almost like second nature. Wasting no time, you look upwards to see two titans charging at you.
“The Female and the Armored.” you remark, an interesting combination at the least.
Reiner leads the charge in a sprint, shoulder first. Immediately behind him is the Female Titan. Odds are Reiner plans on toppling you over so Annie can follow up while you’re on the ground. Seeing as Annie can easily out speed the Armored but chose to stay behind.
Thinking fast, you reach out and place a palm on Reiner’s incoming shoulder. Shifting your body and pushing in order to redirect him. You watch as he loses his balance before shaking his head, roaring before resuming his charge.
To your right, you see the Female begin to approach you. Her arms raised and her gaze burrowing into you. Despite your new form, you can’t shake the gut feeling that she’d do something terrifying if given the chance.
Thinking quick, you recall what it your titan is known for. Your only chance is to summon your family’s weapon and strike them both in one quick swipe. You close your eyes and focus. You feel your Titan’s hardening ability seemingly clump up in your palm as you feel warmth emanate from it.
The foot steps grow louder, both Titans growing closer and closer. Time is not a resource you have.
Opening your eyes, you put faith in your family’s newly summoned hammer and swing blindly. You can feel it in your hand, it’s warmth assuring you that it’s ready. Confidence wells up inside you as you tense your arm and twist your body, putting everything you have into this swing.
If I can just trip both of them. If I can trip them then we can call this spar a win.
Using your hammer’s lengthy handle, you attempt to sweep both of them of their feet. Striking their heels with enough force to at least throw them off balance.
Yet, something’s off. Not only do you miss your mark, but your momentum carries on. Did Annie jump over? How could she? The swing was faster than you expected, surely it would-
Before you know it, cracks and shards of Reiner’s armor spray everywhere. Fragments tap across your face as the hammer embeds itself in the titan.
The hammer’s head smashes itself into Reiner’s chin; the impact sending shivers down your spine. But, how? It was just the handle. Unless he backed up and collided with the head of the hammer, but there’s no way he could do that with such little time.
Before you’re able to shift your gaze The Female is already on you.
“Great, too late.”
You barely figure out what’s going on as the Female grasps your arm. Immediately, you’re off balance. You fall, hard. The ground rumbles as your pale figure crashes against it. Groans of pain quiet down and turn into a sigh. Odds are you aren’t making out of this spar in a good light.
From far off, you begin to hear a roaring laughter. Straining your ears, you listen in.
“-GWUAHAHAHAHA” you hear a hearty chuckle from a familiar voice. The blond boy, Zeke. Even while he’s far off you can still faintly hear it. Something has obviously caught his attention.
Looking in his direction, you see him with one hand up on his eyes and the other on his stomach. You’re surprised his
“Th-THAT? THAT’S YOUR ”WAR” HAMMER?” he takes the hand on his stomach and points at you-, no your arm.
Confused, you look at your arm to see-
“Oh. Oh no.”
You feel the Female Titan release her grip on you, tension leaving your head and torso. Bringing yourself up to sit, you take a closer look at the hammer resting on the ground.
A sense of dread runs through you as you see your “War” hammer up close. The hilt is far too short, but the head is far too large. It’s almost comical, resembling a cheap wooden toy for children.
Picking it up again and inspecting it, you see steam hiss from the other side.
“Right, Reiner-” you mumble, your voice distorted as it comes out of your titan’s body.
Getting up, you see the Armored Titan collapsed onto the dirt laying face first. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that you hit him. Hard. You wince, hoping Reiner won’t hold a grudge against you for that.
The jaw of the titan is clearly shattered, you remark, as more steam pours out of it than any other part of its body.
Straining your eyes, you see Reiner emerge from the titan’s nape. He seems irritated, clasping his jaw with his hand.
Looking to the right you see Annie follow the boy’s lead. The Female Titan is kneeled over, steam hissing out of the neck. Moments later you see the girl tear herself out of the nape, one limb at a time.
“Ah. Minor issue.”
You speak to yourself, but it seems to have caught the attention of the spectators. They turn toward you as you as you inspect your body.
“Where in the world am I?”
It’s an odd feeling you’ve felt since earlier, but decided to put off until now. You feel your body is, to put it simply, elsewhere. The titan you’re in is different. Instead of being in the nape, you feel your presence is elsewhere.
Looking around, you see a small cord looking protrusion that runs into the ground. It seems to be attached to your leg.
Tugging on the cord, the ground around it cracks and rises upwards. Giving it a stronger pull reveals your body, encased in a crystal.
You recall Willy mentioning this as he spoke about the Warhammer’s previous fights. Previous users hid their body underground and encased it in the titan’s hardening in an attempt to protect the user.
You wonder if you got the instincts from the previous Warhammer user, perhaps they passed it onto you during your dream. Your smile quickly turns into a wince as you pull your body out, displaying your first attempt at the technique.
Instead of the pristine gem like appearance Willy described, yours is jagged. Rough around the edges, to say the least. You take the crystal and carefully shatter it, undoing the hardening as your titan’s strength does the rest.
Your vision goes dark, suddenly you’re in your original body. Gently opening your eyes, another light headache rolls in. You wince and look down. About 2 meters separates you from the ground, only a quick jump away. You can’t help but feel thankful that you lowered your hand.
Hopping off, you stare past the pale titan to see your comrades. Alongside them is Willy Tybur.
I remember one time I got INSANELY high off of edibles while playing Among Us, and it quickly became apparent to the other players online. I forget how honestly but literally anything "sus" I did was ignored by everyone because I was so fucking high. I tested this theory by standing in front of a body and the person that actually reported it didn't even mention me. The funniest part was when I was trying to do wires, I kept fucking up over and over again, so I was just standing in front of wires for actual minutes trying to figure it out. A small crowd of players gathered around me to watch and would get mad every time someone reported a body or emergency meeting because "she's never going to get her tasks done if you keep interrupting them." I don't think anyone cared about winning at that point, they just wanted to see the high crew mate succeed in her tasks.
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