the hilt | eren jaeger

f o u r t e e n - J.D.

[TW: Mentions of Violence]

[Season 4 Spoilers Present]

YEAR 850~

A warm breeze flitted across the skin of my forearms.

It was a good day; surprisingly. The past month seethed through time, effortlessly and graciously, and I really hadn't any complaints. Life had been good; it still was good. All the injuries I had sustained during Trost were slowly patching themselves up, and by the time our next mission would take place, I'd be completely back to normal. As adamant as I would be about the fact that I'd be going, many took it upon themselves to tell me that I shouldn't go, but I just ignored them. Although permission wasn't yet granted, I wasn't in the scouts to half-ass it just because I used to be hurt.

The 57th expedition was getting closer and closer by the second, and some took that with brevity, others took it with heavy tolls on their hearts. The veterans that surrounded us knew the risks more than anyone, who were we to not underestimate the casualties that would entail?

We had all been hard at work. Consistent training drills and exercises, countless hours memorizing the formation that Commander Erwin had proposed— Even though it was incomparably simple to understand, people still struggled with it— and even mental preparation. It was tough work to be in the scouts, the physical and emotional tolls were incomparable to the other branches.

High risk, high reward, high casualty.

That's just how we all lived. Saying 'we' in that context felt wrong, so many of us new recruits hadn't yet felt the sting of the aftermath, the weight of losing people you just smiled and laughed with.

I pushed the thoughts from my mind of losing anyone at the incoming expedition as I reveled in the flush sunlight, a golden glow illuminating the field as shadows cast onto the earth in patches from the small and wispy clouds. The grass was littered with deep hues as small tufts of flowers were growing here and there. A peculiar tuft caught my eyes— The marigolds.

They were apart of the design etched onto the hilt of my blade, and all I could think was;

What a coincidence.

My chest heaved in the sweet air that swirled around in a light breeze, as I had just gotten out of training. Besides me stood Kirstein as we stared off into the distance. Eren was doing experiments as a titan, something they never really stopped doing, not even to give him a break. They all still saw him as a lab rat, that much was clear. He was their own personal test subject, and to be frank, they were right.

He could be dead right now, but instead he stands inside a titan, one of the very things we've all sworn to destroy, trudging us all closer to victory.

The world was always so ironic. Utilizing foreign powers for personal gain— The selfishness evident in the human race was aggravating and displeasing. None of us, not even I, were safe from the guise of selfishness. Pretending to not be would be like pretending not to live, pretending not to breathe. Without our selfishness, we'd never function, we'd all just dawdle around so happy go lucky.

The real world isn't that kind, why should it be?

Moments like these were kind though. Only the feelings of swelling pride and the exhilarating rush of endorphins after working hard were there to guide us. Jean's chest breathed in sync with mine as we marveled at the sight before us.

The group monitoring Eren and his actions had to have been at least hundreds of yards away, as they were clearly trying to communicate with him. There were meek and tiny shouts that Jean and I could ever so faintly hear, but Eren seemed unresponsive. His gaze was fixed onto the distance, and it seemed like there wasn't anything behind his eyes— a trance of sorts.