WW1 AU - Levi Training the Cadets
“Attention,” Levi’s voice was severe as ever as he stood in front of the group of scared, tired young faces. “I’m Captain Levi Ackerman, and this is my team.”
After he introduced Oruo and the rest, the boys were asked to introduce their names while Eld took note of them.
“Eren Jaeger, sir!” The boy saluted with enthusiasm. “From south London.”
“Armin Arlert!” Said the blond, equally enthusiastic, in spite of his knees shaking. “South London!”
“Jean Kierschtein, Melbourne.” The ginger said with a smug smile and some melody in his accent. “Australian Army Reserve.”
“Marco Bott!” The boy’s accent was even stronger than the previous one, “4th Canadian Division volunteer, sir! Pleasure to serve you!”
Levi’s eyes narrowed at him, the name Bott echoing in his mind. That accent, that face, where had he seen them before?
“Boy,” he said, “Did your father serve in Marne?”
The boy’s eyes widened. “My older brother, sir.” He said in a timid voice.
“He was a brave soldier,” Levi said, his stomach turning at the memories of the bombing in his first year in France. “You are brave for coming here.”
The boy's smile grew impossibly wide.
“Connie Springer!” Continued the next one, “Ulster, Irish Division, sir!”
“Reiner Braun, Glasgow, Scottish Division.”
“Bertoldt Hoover, Glasgow, Scottish Division.”
“Ymir Fritz, South of London.”
Levi scanned the boy’s scrawny body, his freckles oddly familiar, the posh accent not matching his looks. “South of London?” he said, “From the slums?”
Ymir stiffened. “No, sir. A small neighbourhood.”
Ymir gulped, “Kingston, sir.”
“Huh,” he huffed with skepticism, and continued to walk along the line of boys lining up as he listened to the rest of their introductions.
“Well,” he said after they were done. “Let me get one thing straight. I don’t care where you came from, as long as you follow orders. Now let’s get started.
The moment training began Levi knew it would be hell. They didn’t know how to clean, how to cook, they didn’t even know how to stand properly and salute. But the most concerning part of all was they weren't able to land a single shot.
“Lower your elbow, Arlert,” Levi watched the boy miss the sack of sand that served as a target, folded arms and furrowed brows as the next trainee came forward, his aim as lousy as the first one.
“Knees bent, Jaegger, how many times do I have to tell you? Go again.”
The two dragged their feet to stand at the end of the line again.
“Good shot, Bott...” Levi huffed, watching the hole at the bottom of the sack, “...if you want to shoot someone on the foot and die.”
Marco’s smile went as fast as it came, and with a sigh, he moved to the back of the line.
When Jean’s turn came, Levi squinted at the sun, a hand to his forehead to watch him carefully, wondering if perhaps the boy’s previous perfect shots had been only beginner’s luck. But when the bullet pierced the middle of the target painted with red stripes for the fourth time, Levi was convinced it wasn’t luck, but skill that he was looking at.
Other than Jean, only two other boys were able to land a shot. Curious Levi called for all three of them.
“Oi, Kirschtein, Hoover, Braun,” he signaled with his hand and the three marched towards him with a worried look.
“Take a short break…” Levi said, and as soon as he looked away, the rest of the trainees relaxed. Levi yelled at them. “Not you, Jaeger! The rest of you keep shooting until you aim at something, for fuck’s sake.”
The trainees muttered a curse, but continued as Levi ordered. Taking a seat, Levi turned to the other three. “Where did you learn to shoot?”
“Our hometown is big with hunting, sir,” explained Reiner.
“We’ve been hunting with our families since a young age.” Bertoldt added.
Levi now turned to Jean. “You?”
“My father.” Jean said, “He was a policeman, I grew up around guns.”
“Did he serve?” Levi dared ask. If he spoke of him in the past tense, that couldn’t mean anything good.
“Middle East,” Jean said with a straight face. “Egypt... he died a hero, my mother sent me here to claim his remains.”
Levi flinched. One thing was to fight for his country, for his people, but to cross an entire continent to serve the crown was a whole different thing. A chill ran down his spine. He could not begin to understand.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Levi said, “That was the toughest battle I’ve faced so far. We spent days under the sun before we could head home.”
“You were there?” Jean’s face slightly softened.
“We won that battle.” Levi nodded. “Without people like your father, we couldn’t have made it.”
Jean’s gaze went to the ground, reflecting on his words.
“Alright, break is over,” Levi waved his hands to shoo them away, “go back in line.”
From fic: The Slum Rat and the Wings of Freedom - Eruri Historical AU
