Mask-An Attack on Titan Fan Fiction

Chapter Five

Training was a living hell, pretty much. We all were shouted awake at one o'clock in the morning, given half an hour to eat, and in the classroom until twelve in the afternoon. After our half-an hour of lunch, the trainees were made to do what was called a "puke run". In other words, we were forced to run around the perimeter of the grounds until our previous meal had been expelled from our stomachs. We were not permitted to stop for water or breath until we had vomited. Half of the regiment vomited in the first ten minutes. Some insane individuals lasted a full hour before actually expectorating. Among those crazy people were Reiner Braun, Annie Leonhart, Mikasa Ackerman, Bertolt Hoover, some girl named Ymir, and to my dismay, En.

Next, we were herded into fenced areas and told to do as many push ups and jumping jacks as physically possible. Then, we were told to do as many push ups and jumping jacks as physically impossible. Many trainees lost consciousness the first week of training.

After doing yet another "puke run" around the perimeter, we had five more hours in the classroom, taking notes about the information gathered by humanity about the Titans, the population, and life in general. All the while, I had to constantly remind myself not to give in to my feminine habit of playing with my hair. If my mind ever strayed from our lecture, I would eventually find my hand groping through my shaggy mop. In order to avoid the recurrence of this habit, I forced myself to take notes. For the first time in my whole life, I found that I was actually gathering information, maybe not as quickly as Armin Arlert, but at a quicker pace than I ever had.

I slowly also began to form friendships with others in the trainee regiment. Two of the people I 'clicked' with were Jean Kirstein and Eren Jaeger. More than once, I found my arms restraining Jean from leaping upon Eren and beating him into a bloody pulp. I often saw Armin doing the same thing with Eren. I was Jean's Armin. However, I enjoyed Eren's company as much as I liked Jean's.

While Jean was often lazy and laughing, Eren was rigorous and determined. He was a great person to spar with once we began hand-to-hand combat drills.

One evening, Eren and I were sparring behind the barracks before lights-out. I had just thrown a beautiful right uppercut at him and sent him sprawling in the dirt. He pushed himself up from the ground, his eyes blazing.

"How the heck," he panted, "did you get so good?"

Instantly, I rubbed my hand, remorse stinging the bruises on my knuckles. My mind flashed an image before me; an image of a man, mimicking my uppercut towards the jaw of a teenage boy with electric eyes.

"I guess I'm just a natural." The words felt wooden as they dropped off my tongue, leaving splinters of guilt on my mouth. Lies didn't come easily to me.

Eren regarded me with a curious gaze for a few brief moments, then leapt back to his feet, eager to try again.

"C'mon, teach me that uppercut, Igor. I wanna use it on Reiner in combat practice tomorrow."

Jean, on the other hand, spent most of his time joking around with En and Connie Springer. My time spent with them was full of side-wrenching laughs and comebacks that would have made my stepmother blush. En and I often were goofing off, yet still maintained a healthy affinity of hatred towards one another.

On one occasion, Jean and I managed to switch En's soap for a block of cleverly disguised chalk. In retaliation, En put rocks in our bread. The three of us got a harsh scolding from Shadis, and had to clean the bathrooms for a whole week. Every evening, we emerged from our chore with soap in our hair and grins on our faces.

My dilemma with showering was solved when I made up my mind to shower every evening before lights-out and sparring with Eren. All of the other guys showered in the morning for some reason, so I was able to maintain my facade of being a boy. Armin once confronted me about this habit.

"Why don't you shower with the rest of us?"

"Well, that's a very interesting way to start up a conversation," I commented, flicking through my notes. Our first exam was the next morning.

"Igor," Armin said, "Why?"

"Honestly, it's because I hate sleeping sweaty." My life was nothing but a sea of lies now, what harm could one more lie do?

"Sweaty?" His tone wasn't condemning, just curious.

"Yeah. I know it's stupid and selfish, but I'm super paranoid about sleeping while dirty, so I like to be clean before bed. I never understood why we are supposed to shower in the mornings and then get dirty throughout the day."

Armin nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. I had considered that as well."

With that, he turned around and went to bury his nose in his books and notes. He was the top in our unit in the academic department.

The first time we tested the 3D Maneuver Gear, I was so excited. The techniques we had been studying out of books was nothing compared to actually being strapped into the harness, and feeling the ground slip from beneath my feet. I managed to stay balanced for twenty seconds. I felt pretty good about my first trial. However, when I watched Eren's attempt, my heart sank.

Eren wasn't able to balance for a single second. He struggled to raise himself into the position the rest of us had so easily maintained, his face dragging in the dirt. Eventually, Shadis ordered him to get off, and Eren did so. His face was red. His eyes weren't blazing with his usual determination, but brimming with confusion and something else: desperation. He was instantly mobbed by Mikasa and Armin. They both looked concerned. I turned and saw En by my side, laughing.

"Wow," he chuckled, "That kid is a bag of contradictions, isn't he? He goes on and on about how the weak don't deserve to stay and train, and now it turns out he can't even last a second in 3D maneuver gear."

"Shut up," I said, "He has more motivation than any of us here."

"Motivation doesn't count for anything unless you actually have talent," En replied, adjusting his harness, "Otherwise, it's all just meaningless talk."

I punched him hard on the arm and went to the mess hall for dinner.