The two years in the refugee camp had been brutal—filled with hunger, exhaustion, and the constant weight of uncertainty. But every hardship, every sleepless night, had led us to this moment.
I could hardly believe it. The four of us—me, eren, armin and mikasa—standing at the training grounds among the other recruits. This was real.
I stood to Eren’s left, my back straight, trying to suppress the wave of emotions stirring within me. Eren’s expression was as fierce as ever, eyes filled with unwavering determination. But for me, a slight discomfort tugged at the edges of my thoughts. My hair was tied back in a neat french braid, tight and uncomfortable. But much needed to look the part.
My hair grown much longer over the years, something eren often commented on.
He had tried convincing me to cut it short, not because he disliked it—quite the opposite. He said it drew too much attention, claiming it would be easier for me. But I knew better. His concern was genuine, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling he wanted to shield me from more than just curious eyes. Despite his persistence, I refused.
At my hip, my dagger rested securely in its sheath, no longer hidden in the folds of my boot. I wore it proudly now, a constant reminder of the battles yet to come and the survival that had brought me here.
My thoughts were abruptly cut short by a booming, authoritative voice. "Straighten those spines, piss-ants! The 104th Cadet Corps boot camp starts now!"
Yeah, this was really happening.
Keith Shadis... Now there’s an interesting character. He was strict, with an aura of terror that made you stand straighter just from his gaze alone. And yet, I found myself liking it. If I’m going to become a Scout, to face the horrors outside the walls, I need someone like him to push me to the edge. No coddling, no sugarcoating. Just hard truth.
He even looked a little famil—
"Hey, Mop-Top!" Keith's voice interrupted my thoughts, and I had to bite down a laugh. I immediately knew who he was targeting.
Armin stiffened, trying to suppress the obvious nerves that ran through him. He snapped to attention, fist pressed over his heart in a salute. "Sir!" His voice wavered slightly but held strong, and I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride for him, even in this intimidating moment.
"What do they call you, maggot?" Keith's voice cut through the air like a whip.
Armin stood straighter, trying to keep his composure. His voice was clear, though a little shaky at the edges. "Armin Arlert, from Shiganshina, sir!"
