Shorter Than Me

1 Ecyn

Once I come back, panting, he tells me to stand up straight and not pant like a dog. I obey immediately, giving him yet another "Sir." He just looks disgustedly at me.

"Do it again," he says.

"Sir." I take off again and force my legs to go. It's not hard, but I don't see the point. Maybe he's testing me. Once I arrive at the stables again, I stand up straight.

"Why did you join?"

His question catches me off guard and I fumble for an answer before saying, "Sir?"

"Are you deaf?" I don't like how his voice stays monotone even when he's raising his voice.

"No, sir. I joined because it is my passion."

"What is your passion?"

"Killing titans, sir."

"Have you ever killed a titan?"

"No, sir."

"Assisted?"

"No, sir."

"Then how can it be a passion?"

"I've felt a burning in my heart ever since I can remember to destroy the titans."

"Go run again."

Again? What is wrong with him? "Yes, sir." I run again.

He makes me run again. And again.

Finally, he says, "Come with me." He turns and starts walking once I return from my fifth time running. He's confusing.

I was hoping that meeting at the stables meant I would get to ride a horse, but instead he takes me to the supply building. Inside, I see racks and racks of maneuver gear and equipment. He walks to a rack against the wall and takes the set of equipment next to a plaque reading his name.

"The smallest sizes are over there." He gestures to the other end of the room. I'm not sure if he wants me to get one or not until he says, "Get one. We don't have all day."

I hurry in the direction he pointed and find a very small harness. I attach everything to it, staggering slightly under the sudden weight. I'm almost done when he comes around the corner.

"Hurry up," he demands. I clumsily finish as quickly as I can. He steps closer and grabs the ends of the blades on my right side. "You don't need these. You probably can't lift them anyway."

"Yes I can, sir," I insist.

"Shut up." He glares at me. Does he hate me or something?

He takes the other three blades out and leaves them carefully on the rack. I notice his blades still neatly arranged in their places.

"Now come." He walks out.

I follow him quickly and he breaks into a run once we're outside. I still haven't recovered from before and now I have the maneuver gear weighing me down. It's not extremely heavy, it's just a little cumbersome.

I groan quietly so he won't hear and start running again. He reaches the trees a whole minute before I do.

And he's glaring at me! You just made me run a lot and now you're blaming me for not being able to run as fast as you.

I just look at him.

"Now try to keep up this time." He turns and before I know it, he's swinging on his cables.

I hurry after him, naturally keeping my balance. It's one of the best skills I've learned and mastered. I race after him.

Suddenly, he veers to one side so quickly I don't know how he did it. Even the gear isn't flexible enough to make that kind of maneuver.

I follow him as quickly as I can but now I've lost him.

Dammit! Now he's going to be mad at me. For nothing.

"HEY, SHORTIE!" I hear his voice behind me and use one of the cables to reverse my direction. I jerk to the side as it twists and I hear him laugh loudly. I can imagine his blank face laughing humorlessly and it makes me angry. I see him just hanging there between two trees. I stop in front of him, swinging slightly. He pulls one of the blades from the scabbard with his hand and says, "Catch." Before I realize what he says, he throws it to me and I reach out my hand clumsily to catch it but all I can do is hit the end that attaches to the handle before it falls out of reach.

Both of his cables unattach from the trees and he drops like a rock. I watch, concerned, as he swings by one cable, snatches the blade from where it's stuck in the ground, and works his way back up behind me with so much skill and speed.

I maneuver myself to face him again and he hands me the blade, carefully holding it out to me and not letting go until he's absolutely sure I have a good grip on it. I fit it into the handle.

"You know how to use it?" he asks.

Do I know how to use it? Do I know how to use it?

Is he asking me this? Why is he asking me this?

"Hello? Shortie? I asked you a question."

I bite my lip. "Yes, sir. I know how to use it. We were taught in-"

"Shut up."

I bite my lip again, forcing my mouth to stay closed. I take a quiet, deep breath and try not to say anything that will get me in trouble. I didn't really expect him to be like this. He's rather rude.

"Do you know how to fight another person with it?" he asks.

"We weren't trained to," I pause in confusion. "They're for killing titans."

"I know what they're for," he states. He looks angry. Why is he mad? Why is he mad?

"Sir."

"You're going to fight me. Only use one hand."

I want to yell at him, asking why the heck he wants me to fight a person, but decide to be polite and respectful. "May I ask why, sir?"

"Yes," he responds. There's an awkward pause where I realize he wants me to ask why.

"Why, sir?"

"It improves balance and skill with the blade."

That makes sense.

"Do you have any more stupid questions?" He looks bored. He always looks bored.

"No, sir." I purse my lips and think, that wasn't a stupid question.

"Keep me from killing you. Only use one hand." He swings to the side and I maneuver to face him again.