Would you do it all again?
It was a question I didn't think would carry so much weight before until you said it. Mindless mutters like that, I would catch you saying to yourself whenever we walked home together that had been reduced to somber silence. It wasn't the silence that bothered me so much, not until after you spoke to me that day. I remember you telling me of a memory associated with that question. You had asked your father that same inquiry after hearing him recount his journey to Marley years after war broke out in his home county. He paused for a moment and let out a quiet, drawn-out breath as if releasing a drag from a cigarette. You observed him seated on the back doorsteps of your shop.
'Why wouldn't I do it all over again?' He'd finally say.
And in your child state, you had replied in a confused tone. 'Because sometimes you look sad about it.'
You chuckled dryly, mumbling that it had seemed so obvious then. Why would you do anything that'd bring you so much pain and sadness? It just didn't make sense to repeat decisions like that.
'I just get sad that it took so much for me to get here and not give you enough,' he'd answer back, his eyes fixed on the setting sun that cast its warm glow over the land. 'If I could go back and do it again...do it better for you to live better, I'd do it a million times.'
You said you didn't get it then, and maybe you'd never understand what he meant entirely. You'd never truly know how it was to live the life he did. Then, you grew quiet, and I was too afraid to betray the intimacy of your shared story. I was always scared I'd do something wrong when the silence became unbearable. You had talked less animatedly those days, and it always sounded like you'd cry any moment.
And even now, I can still trace the image of your face, warm and bright from the evening sun, the colors bleeding into your eyes. The two of us, having walked onto the very steps where you and your father once sat. It hurts me to think that back then, you must have felt suffocated, unable to carry your pain any longer. If I wasn't such a coward, I would have done something before it was too late. But I could not save the person I viewed with the same fondness of the sun you stared at.
"Would you do it all again, [Name]?"
====
You've been having strange dreams.
Most of the time, you'd barely be able to grasp them before they could leave you. A myriad of scenes stitched together that wouldn't make sense, as if someone had haphazardly shuffled them and dumped them into your brain. A few you would be able to decipher, like those of memories with your father or mother. Some you knew your brain conjured up, products of fantasy scenarios in the back of your mind, regrets you wished you could change.
But until a few weeks ago, that's all that there had been. Now, there were things you couldn't recall, playing in your head with a dark veil you couldn't seem to pull back to get a glimpse. Whatever dreams...well, they seemed more like nightmares; they plagued you as of late and were some of the worst you had—the most intense you had. It was frustrating waking up with the feeling of a weight crushing you as if your chest would cave in. You'd think you've done something terrible had you not realized they weren't real.
You rubbed at your face with a hand, using the other to wipe away an eye that had shed a few tears in your listless sleep. Your room was dark but still had some presence of early light from the beginning of sunrise. After getting some grogginess off your face, you reached over to your nightstand and fiddled with your alarm clock, having woken up minutes before it rang again. Your body had naturally learned to wake up without the metal device. Still, there were a few times you had stupidly underestimated your exhaustion and slept a few extra minutes, or so you thought, leading you to make too many close calls for tardiness. And that was definitely what you didn't want.
The room was cold, so it would be that the floor was freezing when your bare feet touched it, sending a shiver up throughout your body. You frowned, letting out a tiny groan before counting down to yourself and sliding out of bed. You felt around the floor for your slippers, happy when the tip of your toes caught the warm material and dragged them over to slide on your feet. With that done, you could finally walk around your small room, starting to get ready for the day, with the worst part being washing your face with the freezing water, but after that, it was smooth sailing.
You wished that your winter outfit had more than just a long coat and scarf; at least spring was only a few weeks away. The weather was much more merciful.
By the time you got changed, you could hear your mother starting her bustle in the kitchen, perhaps deciding what to make for breakfast. Since you've woken up early today, you could sit down and have some. She'd be happy to see you ate some this time rather than grab a loaf of bread from the bakery.
As predicted, she was already aproned up and staring down at the cast iron skillet she had set on top of the brick stove, hands on her waist. "Do you think I have enough eggs to make everyone an omelet?"
You stifled a laugh with a puff through your nose. "I think so unless Milo decides to drop by this morning."
She peered over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing with a slight hum. "Then I hope he brings eggs for his omelet if he decides to. Otherwise, I'll send Adette for some when that girl wakes up. She should start learning how to better help around this house," her head shook with a tongue click before turning back to the stove.
You closed the door to your room and walked across the wooden floorboards to the windows to pull back the curtains slightly. As expected, there still wasn't much sunlight, but it was enough to help illuminate the room alongside the warm lights that were sparse in your home. The sounds of your mother moving kitchenware and ingredients filled the silence as you stared out the window, enjoying the simplicity of the morning in hopes of getting the unsettling feeling from your nightmare off. Yet again, the imagery of what it was escaped you. Perhaps it was for the best that you didn't remember. It must not be any good if it left you shedding tears.
After a few minutes, the smell of breakfast wafting through the air invigorating your appetite, you pulled away from the window and looked to your mother, who was quickly chopping up some tomatoes. "Can I go get some bread from the bakery?"
She sighed, throwing you a slight glance as she finished off cubing the red fruit. "You and your bread... overeat, and it'll stuff you big, you know?"
Of course, if you didn't burn the calories off. Which you did.
You didn't reply, waiting for her to give you the okay, in this case, a defeated sigh. "You have my permission; just be sure to—"
Your legs carried you quickly to the door before she could even finish. Before leaving, you grabbed the band hanging from the coat hanger's lowest arm and placed it there for you due to your short, growing stature, slipping it on quickly before you were caught without it outside. God knows how mortified your mother would be if she heard from one of the neighbors that you were running around without it. Much less having an officer or guard greet her on your doorstep.
The bakery wasn't too far from the center of your neighborhood, being one of the few scattered around, making it hard to miss. You remember the route to it as if you were born with a map engraved into the groves of your fleshy brain. Both you and your father used to come here plenty of times after running errands. Adette wasn't a big fan of carbs, much like your mother, fretting it'd ruin her figure and she'd lose her appeal.
The bakery was getting busy when you arrived, the light from inside filtering through the windows and displaying people moving around selecting loaves and pastries. You pulled back the door and entered, inhaling the delicious smell of baked goods and the sound of the register ringing as you made a beeline for the bread tables.
"Morning, [Name]!"
You hummed quietly at the call of your name, looking back to see the woman at the register waving to you as she handed the customer her basket of loaves.
You raised a hand back in greeting, "Morning!"
After the woman departed from the counter, you walked over, the brunette leaning on the wooden slab atop the counter. "Haven't seen you here for a while? Your mother?"
You chuckled, scratching your neck in embarrassment, "She doesn't like it when I eat so much of your pastries, but they're so good..."
The young woman laughed, reaching over to ruffle some of your hair, "That's why Pa and Ma like you so much. I'm sure if able, you'd buy out the whole store every week."
The door to the back opened, and out popped a man carrying trays of freshly baked loaves. His eyes immediately landed on the two of you, a grin spreading across his face.
"Well, if it ain't our favorite tyke! Great to see ya, kid!" The ends of his greying mustache curled up with his smile.
You waved to him, glad to see that the man appeared to be doing well. "Morning, Mr. Becker. How's your arm doing?"
He walked over to some empty wooden shelves and began sliding the bread onto them, throwing back a good-hearted laugh. "Much better! Thanks for askin'! I may be getting old, but my body can handle a few fractured bones!"
"Don't say that, Pa!" The young woman huffed, "You're not getting any younger! You should let Leo take over a bit more! That's why he's hired!"
You looked at her in surprise, "You hired someone?"
She gave a nod, sighing. "I finally managed to convince him. Pa's body isn't keeping up with his spirit anymore, and after the injury he got, it's about time he starts to take it easy. I can't run this place alone, so I put a good word for an old friend from my school days and got him a position here as my dad's apprentice. As strong and fit as I think I am for a baker's daughter, I need some manpower to help me out."
You couldn't help but grin at the new information, deciding to tease her a bit. "Oh, just a friend, right? That gets me thinking, didn't you say that you used to have a crush on a blond boy back when you were still in school, too? What was his name again?" Her face flushed with embarrassment and horror as you hummed and crossed your arms in mock thought.
"Luke? No, it was something like Louie...? Oh, now I remember, it's..."
"Quiet you!" She grabbed your head between her hands, squeezed enough for you to cut yourself off, and wheezed out a laugh.
"Okay, I think it's time Katharine returns to tending to the customers. And I'm sure yer mother didn't let ya come here this early for nothin'!"
You stiffened at the mention of your mother. "Ah! Right! Katharine, can you ring me up for Bauernbrot?"
She huffed but motioned for you to bring the bread over. You quickly strode back to the table you had previously stood before and used one of the set-out paper tissues to grab hold of the bread. "You pea-brain. Didn't even bring a basket," Katharine muttered as she took the loaf from you, punching some numbers into the register.
You snaked your hand into your pants pockets, knowing you had left some spare change enough for the bread the previous night of getting spending money from helping your mother in the shop. She took the bills and coins with one hand while grabbing a paper bag to stuff the rye-based carb into it.
"No freebies this time since you were being a dumb brat earlier," she grumbled, pushing the bagged item towards you. You grinned, grabbing the loaf and tucking it under your arm. "Don't you worry. I'll be back soon enough for more patronage."
Katharine grunted at your reply while you held in a snicker, waving goodbye to the young woman and her father, who had finished bringing out the freshest batch from the back and now retreated to the backroom.
It's good that Mr. Becker reminded you about your time crunch because the sun was already rising higher in the sky by the second. With that observation, you umped up the speed and soon arrived home, puffing a little from your morning exercise. And your mother was worried about you gaining weight...easy peasy.
You pulled the door open and were instantly greeted with a warm call of your name.
"See, I told you he'd be showing up," was the first thing you said upon full entry.
Your mother rolled her eyes at your comment, platting some potatoes onto a plate while the seated man laughed sheepishly.
"Did I start an argument?" He probed gently, smiling wryly as your mother passed the plate she finished with.
"Argument? No," she shook her head, "You never start those. My daughters, on the other hand..."
You pouted slightly at her response but ignored it for the most part, setting the newly acquired bread at the center of the table next to the butter and milk pitcher.
"That's not nice of you to say when both of them are present in the room."
Milo pulled out the chair beside him, knowing you'd want to sit close by to update him on your schooling and mini adventures around the internment zone.
"We all know that no matter how often I try to chastise either of you, I waste my breath," the older woman sighed, walking back to the stove.
Adette pulled out a chair directly across from Milo, pouting like you had before her entrance. "Maybe you should take a page from our book and loosen up a little. All that stress can't be good for your age."
Milo winced at the remark while you paid closer attention to see what your mother would do. Instead of the smack to the head or pull of her ear that was all too reminiscent, she threw a nasty glare her way, shuffling some potatoes along another plate with her wooden spatula.
"I'd be nicer to our mother, Adette," you told her if only to save yourself from the monster your mother had caged inside her for later, "She's the one keeping you with a job so far."
The dark-haired man beside you knew better than to get into your small family's squabbles, but you were glad he agreed with you openly. He was getting bolder the longer he hung around the company of your household. "I agree. It would be best if you got along better with your mother. I wish I did."
Typically, touchy subjects like that were best left unspoken at the breakfast table, but it wasn't uncommon that someone had regrets about a late family member in the zone. Death didn't choose favorites, which applied to everyone; your father taught you that.
Adette sighed, knowing he had won the debate before it took off. "I don't hate her. She just gets a little irritating when she breathes down my neck, you know?"
"That's not nice to say when I'm present in the room," your mother used her own words against her.
"Touché, Mother," Adette muttered under her breath, taking the plate the matriarch set before her. She also handed you yours, and you thanked her, eyeing the meal hungrily but waiting until she pulled her chair out and sat down with sighed relief. "Okay, let's dig in. You especially, [Name]," she told you as you greedily began to slice into your omelet. "You cannot be late for school."
You nodded, shoveling some of the egg into your mouth as you tried to reach for the bread. It was just a little out of your reach, and Milo, the adult-sized man beside you, grabbed the bread knife and carved you a slice.
"Why haven't you dropped by lately, Milo?" Your mother began to make conversation in between the silence of everyone stuffing their faces.
He gave a hum, swallowing his food before answering. "Sorry, work has just been getting a little busier. We keep getting more orders daily, and we can barely keep up. Even my father is having trouble."
You didn't miss the way Adette paused slightly to glare at her plate before bringing a fork of potatoes to her mouth.
Your mother gave an emphatic look, "I see. That sounds just like how things would be right now. Even we're getting more orders and requests for leathers, too. To think they'd want us means we're probably on the cusp of another war."
It was customary for your mother not to mince words, but that didn't mean you always got used to it.
Adette clicked her tongue loudly, making all eyes turn to her. "Figures that's what those pigs are doing. Ever since they won that war five decades ago, all they've been doing is—" A sharp look from the older woman shut her up.
An uneasy silence followed. You tried to go back to eating, but it wasn't easy with the atmosphere effectively charged with all these emotions and words.
After a long beat, your mother opened dialogue again, "It's unfortunate that's what we have to do, but if it's for the greater good of the country, then it's going to happen," her voice became soft at the end.
Adette narrowed her eyes, her freckled cheeks taut as Milo regarded her with concern.
Seeing as the adults were sulking again, you hurriedly finished the rest of your food and pushed back your chair, shoving the final piece of bread you didn't finish and carrying your dirty dishes over to the sink.
"Behave yourself, please," your mother said as you began to head for the door, "I don't want any more trouble with any neighbors."
You tore a chunk off the bread and chewed, looking back with a pout, "I'm not the one who picks the fights with the kids."
"[Name], please," she sighed.
"Yeah..." You sighed as well, grabbing the satchel from the wooden coat hanger next to the entry and slinging it over your shoulder, leaving quickly after that.
But you were right. You didn't try to start up anything with the rest of the kids. If someone were itching to get your hands on you, only then would you defend yourself. In any case, it was just one group of boys in school didn't know anything better to do than be pig-headed. They were just hustling anyone they could. But one Marleyan and they'd be no better than a shivering wet dog.
You finished the rest of your food and then quickened your pace, going into a light jog before you reached the gates. The guards there were tending to someone there already but let you pass without interrogation as they knew where you were headed. Everything outside the internment camp always seemed to fill you with envy, knowing you'd probably never have access to look around. School and the few delivery runs to the military sector were all the time you were allowed outside the gates. At the very least, you should be happy that you were even allowed to leave.
The route to the school wasn't that far, as it was made to be as close to the camp as possible. The only reason schooling wasn't done inside the perimeter was to monitor the teachers closely. That's why you liked to go as much as your mother hated sending you for deliveries. Every centimeter farther out the camp was closer to freedom.
You waited for a pair of women to pass you before taking off the remaining distance. It was best to avoid anyone out here. There was just mostly trouble from contact with anyone not from the camp.
"Hey! [Name]!"
An instinctive hum escaped you as you peered back to see who had called your name. It didn't take long for you to find out as your eyes focused on the distinct jet hair and blue eyes, an uncommon combination within your community. His family was the only one you'd seen the combination on, and honestly, it was always nice to look at.
"Ded," you greeted, stopping to allow him to catch up. Once he reached you, you both fell into stride on the way to the schoolhouse.
"I can't believe I'm the one who's late now," he sighed, rubbing his eyes, "I remember I was the one who'd waited nearby here for you before."
"I've never been late," you glowered.
He chuckled, "No, but you've nearly been early."
You hip-bumped him, throwing him slightly off balance, but he regained his posture and gave that silvery laugh of his. "Alright, I'll settle down now," he said, readjusting the strap over his shoulder for his school bag.
You eyed him, scrutinizing his face in hopes it'd make him feel uncomfortable, and you, in turn, receive some satisfaction from it as revenge. Instead, you genuinely began to look at him and took notice of something important that should be on the bridge of his nose.
"You're not wearing your glasses today."
He raised his brows in surprise, as if being caught, and gave what seemed like a grimace, although if it was, he did an excellent job at not making it look like one. "Yeah—well, I was helping my father at work, and a customer accidentally stepped on them. She tried to insist she pay for a new pair, but my father and I knew she couldn't afford them. She had been to our shop a few times and barely had enough to cover her order, but it's not like I really need them. I can see well enough if I squint a bit."
He demonstrated, dropping his brows and focusing on the sign near the top of the building straight ahead. "School. See?"
You frowned, "Sure, I can, but you can't. We both know you already knew what that sign said. We've seen it many times before," he looked weary at hearing your reply. "You're going to get behind on studies if you don't get a new pair soon."
He sighed, turning his head away so your gazes couldn't meet, "I know. But I just got those a few weeks back. I can't burden my parents any more than I need to, especially not now..."
It looks like you weren't the only one who had a struggling family at the moment.
"Got large orders?" You asked, reluctant to even ask the question.
He pressed his lips gently together, giving a small nod. "We got them just yesterday. The military has a shortage of boots, and they're asking the shoemakers inside the camp to fulfill as many orders as possible for the recruits."
"Yeah, they asked us to make over a thousand belts, straps, and the usual get-up just last evening before closing, too."
The two of you fell silent, each pondering their thoughts about the matter until reaching the front doors of the old, converted storage building. From there, you navigated the halls to your assigned room, where the rest of your classmates greeted you. There were roughly fifteen of you in this class, all the same or close in age. Most of you would eventually stop coming here in a year or two, and few would go on pursuing the education that was left for you Eldians.
Seeing how busy the shop was with just the three of you and how you barely made ends meet and kept the doors to your small business open, you'd probably have to be one of the former. Ded would likely also drop school to apply himself more to his family business and craft, the same as you. He was pretty clever, though, and if anyone had the chance to climb the social ladder within the walls of your home, he did. You weren't notable enough to do anything significant like him; that's just how it was, not that you weren't good at academics. Your mind was just more honed in on the practical, good with your hands, attentive to detail, and fast on your feet. Maybe, if you knew there was some way out of here, you'd be motivated to try and balance your skill set.
"Mornin' [Name], Dedrich."
"Morning," you both responded, heading to your seats.
Yours was two seats across from Dedrich's, behind the quiet giant of your class. With a small squeak of your chair's legs, you pulled out the wooden chair and sat down, unwrapping your chest from the leather strap of your satchel and setting the bag on top of your desk. You mostly sat with your head resting on the bag until you put it away when it drew near for class to begin.
"Is Ms. Forney running late?" Hilda asked from the back.
The lot of you began to murmur and throw out suggestions as to her whereabouts.
Hans shifted in his seat next to you, "Maybe she's got held up at the gate today?"
"Nah, I don't think that's it," Franz deflected, "She probably got held up talking to another teacher."
"She wouldn't want to be late, though; she always makes sure we remember to be punctual."
As the class threw out theories and more suggestions, your mind began to wander off, images of the night before flashing in the back of your brain. The uniformed men talking to your mother and Adette while you tried to mind your business and finish the wallet you were commissioned to make by a neighbor. It was probably Ded's first time being near high-ranking commanders. Unlike you, he didn't make trips for deliveries outside the permitted area. He was his family's last son, his older brother having died in the war a few years back in the south, so his father was cautious about where they sent him should something happen to him.
"Wasn't Mr. Protz down the hall also late yesterday? Do you think they're having meetings every day?"
"Maybe..."
The room went quiet when the doorknob wiggled a little before fully turning and pushing open. As your teacher walked in, you quickly slid your bag off the desk, tucking it between your legs underneath the table.
"Excuse my tardiness, class," she started, her usual splendor absent on her face and tone. She clung to her satchel with one hand tightly as she walked over to the teacher's desk, blinking almost nervously down at the desk and then greeting you all with a watery smile, "I was having an important conversation with a few people back at the teachers' office."
She looked over you all, writing her hand before clasping them together in front of her pale orange dress. "Today's class will be...slightly different from our normal one, and that is because a guest will join us today for an observation."
The confusion could practically be ripped out of the air if you tried, multiple children tilting their heads or scrunching their brows in question, but no one seemed to be brave enough to ask her to elaborate.
Luckily, that wasn't needed because she paused for a moment and then continued.
"He is outside the room right now, but I'll ask him to come inside in a second. I want you all to go about your day as usual, but I encourage you to do your best on our lessons today," she eyed all of you for a second before walking over to the door, her heeled boots clicking against the wooden boards.
You could feel your curiosity peak when she stiffened slightly at whomever she invited and then felt your eyes widen as the guest stepped inside.
Wait...you've seen him before.
"Good morning to you all," his voice rumbled as he made his way to the center of the room, just at the side of the large desk where your teacher had been. His eyes and hair were dark, his figure tall and imposing, but his physical appearance was the least what made you uneasy. It was his aura, the way he carried himself. Typical of a military man.
"Sorry to have disturbed your class, but I'll be out of the way in a few minutes," he began, his eyes slowly scanning the room, "I'm Chief Edsel Magath, an overseer and trainer for the Warrior Program. My job is to train and select candidates that will one day inherit one of the seven titans under the control of Marley. I have come today to observe your class in search of said potential candidates on behalf of the rest of the board. I intend not to deceive you, so I am upfront about my being here."
You think you've heard of that program before. Your father used to talk about someone that came from that program. His name never came up in the talks, but it was clear that he didn't want to delve too deep into the topic, so you'd both steer away from opening an unwanted can of worms. So that's what it was.
"I'll be here today and half of tomorrow, taking notes and observing you all, from your academic performance to your behavior during the break. It is in both our interests that you proceed as you would without my presence. Still, even then, I can spot when someone is trying to pull the wool over my eyes, so don't ruin your chance at being scouted if you're interested in participating in the program," Chief Magath explained, his eyes feeling like ice when they eventually landed to scrutinize you before moving on to the next kid.
Your vision blurred for a moment, and the scene changed the chief's face changing slightly for a moment. You almost recoiled when you blinked again, and another man stood where he was, in the same uniform but older. The man's face was hardened, dark eyes boring into you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in your seat. Everything began to blur again, and you rubbed at your eyes.
Chief Magath was there once again, having just finished the rest of what he had to say, and moved to the corner of the room. You sat there in a sort of daze, trying to process what it was you just saw. However, Ms. Forney began to diligently write up on the chalkboard, and you lowered your gaze to your desk, hearing your heart pounding in your ears. Something was clearly wrong with you. First, the intense nightmares that seemed to elude you, and now this. Maybe you weren't getting enough sleep. You let out a quiet breath, trying to scribble down what your teacher put up on the chalkboard. Hopefully, it would all go away.
====
The guest, Chief Magath, was on the opposite side where the door would be, taking notes down when his eyes didn't comb through the room. You couldn't help but let your eyes shift over to the man once in a while, watching him have the gaze of a hawk on someone before it moved on to you when he felt you bore holes into him. However, you were too sly and quick for him to catch you, cursing yourself when you felt him linger on you a little too long. It was best you forget whatever you experienced. There didn't seem like a good explanation to rationalize it for the time being, and you'd miss out on your lessons if your mind focused too much on other things.
The class went on as both the adults had said they would. Ms. Forney eventually loosened up as the day drew on and shed her nervous skin. Noon soon approached after you managed to immerse yourself in your studies. You were allowed to go on your recess in what seemed like a short time later. Your teacher excused herself from talking with Chief Magath when he waved her outside the room. Chatter instantly erupted when they both exited, and you were sure they couldn't hear.
"Ah, I get so nervous with him here," Bertha sighed to the girls that crowded each other for gossip.
"I think he's kind of cool," Franz said, sitting atop his desk.
Wilheim walked over from the back to sit closer to him, apple in hand, "I wonder if he's already chosen some of us to nominate as candidates."
"You really want to be one?"
The blond shrugged, giving a grin, "Maybe? My brother's friend is in the Eldian Unit and always tells me how amazing they are."
"What do you think about all this [Name]?"
You pressed your face into your arms, "I think that I can't wait to go home and eat something good."
"Oh, come on now," Franz grunted, leaning closer towards you, a seat to the right, "I know you have your own opinions on this. What do you think of Chief Magath? He's scary, isn't he."
Usually, you'd be honest about your fears with peers and others your age just in case it'd make any of them feel more comforted by the idea, something your older sister did with you, but...
"Mmmhu," you hummed, shaking your head, eyes mindlessly focusing on the board, "Not scared of him. Unlike you, I've seen him a few times before, so he doesn't make me want to pee my pants."
"Now that's not true!" Franz cried out, pointing at you while you grinned a little to yourself, "He's just...intimidating, is all! I'm not buying what you say for a second! Maybe you're secretly afraid of him!"
"She could be telling the truth."
You were surprised to hear from the brunette before you, who normally wouldn't say a thing unless coaxed. No one could seem to befriend him despite his efforts or get a conversation going. It was like talking to a brick wall. So, this was a pleasant event for you all.
The boy shifted in his seat a little, his head refusing to meet anyone's eyes, especially yours. "She does deliveries outside the camp, and the military has previously commissioned her family's shop. It would only make sense if she's used to seeing people like Chief Magath before."
"It's a surprise to hear you talk for once, Yvo." Ded bore a smile, his eyes having a little trouble focusing on his direction with his lack of glasses. You saw him peek at Hugo's notes whenever the adults in the room weren't looking.
Yvo tipped his head slightly as if trying to hide his face from Ded. "I just don't think it's fair to call her a liar when she's not."
Who would have known that, of all people, Yvo would be the one to come to your defense?
Your shock turned into a grin at the thought, although you didn't tease him about it despite the urge to. The least you could do was spare him the embarrassment when he just defended your honor from Franz.
Ottilia said, eyeing the clock mounted onto the wall, "I, for one, have no interest in being chosen as a candidate, and the rest of us girls too. You boys can join the army for all we care. We'll stay safe and sound here in our quaint little class."
Franz sputtered, reeling back from her claim. "You know our military keeps dumb girls like you so safe! It'd be an honor to serve in the army!"
"Well, you can go and receive that honor then! I don't care if you die or not!" Ottilia shot back.
"Hey, let's settle down now," Ded frowned at the growing squabble between your classmates, "There's no need to get upset about each other's opinions. It all comes down to adults on whether or not you become a warrior. We shouldn't fight about it."
Franz and Ottilia scoffed and huffed, respectively, making Ded sigh in relief or weariness, perhaps a bit of both.
The last minutes of your recess were spent in more civil conversation and snacking, Ded joining you in sharing the kartoffelkloesse his mother packed him while explaining a few spellings and bits he couldn't see from the board or catch from Hugo's slate. Poor guy would only struggle from here on out without his glasses. Maybe you could ask your mother if one of your father's old pairs could be given to him. Both Ded and your father were near-sighted. That said...
"Hey, Ded," he hummed as he plopped the last of his food into his mouth, watching as you wrote down the final words on the list for today, "I was wondering, how did you know it was me when on the street earlier? You don't have your glasses, so there's no way you could have known that wasn't some random person."
He blinked as if the question had an obvious answer to it. "Oh, that. Well, it's embarrassing to say, but it's easy for me to tell you apart from everyone else, seeing as we've known each other for this long," he admitted bashfully, swinging his legs off the surface of the desk he sat on.
You raised your brows in amusement and interest, tucking his slate, which you used as a base to write notes on clean paper, underneath your chin to lean forward on it. "Yeah? Exactly how?"
His bright eyes fell onto you with hesitation.
"Well—you know...your shape and all...then there's your hair and..."
He stopped when you laughed, growling quietly as he shoved you in your seat. "I can't believe I fell right into your trap! Do you like seeing people get worked up or what?"
"What," your laughter died down to giggles as he leered at you light-heartily, "I think it's funny to see people realize what they really think out loud, don't you? And I don't have to do a thing. It's all on them."
Ded huffed, pushing your shoulder one last time before sliding off your desk and plucking the makeshift clipboard from your hands. "Whatever. That's the last time I ever talk about you like that."
You whined, "But you never told me how you knew."
"Figure that out yourself!"
As you groaned quietly to yourself at your blunder, the door opened and sent the rest of the class in a clamber to wipe off their desks of crumbs and re-seat themselves. Ms. Forney walked in first, followed by Chief Magath, and the day went on as the morning did.
Lessons finished an hour or so after the break, and then you'd head off to the shop to help your family with the extra brunt of orders. You'd probably have to take on more labor-intensive jobs like moving supplies or running off to fetch more leather from the tannery. Still, in a few years, you'd have enough experience to do more of the work your mother and Adette did. Maybe Milo would finally have the courage to propose to Adette and quit his job at the arsenal as a gunsmith and help take up your family business.
But first, you had to get out of here, which meant completing this math problem.
"I'll wait for you outside," Ded patted you on the shoulder as he headed for the door, your shoulders slumping as you saw half the class leave.
Okay... think it through....this side was longer than that, and this one is shorter...
You squinted down at the dumb triangle, huffing to yourself as you began to write down the numbers on one of the sides, wondering what you would even need this for later on in the future. It's not like you'd go around measuring triangles in Liberio.
Yvo slid out of his seat, picked up his bag from the floor, and slung it over his shoulder. You could only watch in dismay as he passed the paper to Ms. Forney, the woman praising him as she scanned the numbers down on his sheet and dismissed him. His golden eyes slid over to you before he closed them, looking impassive as ever, and made way for the door.
Guess you weren't as bright as you thought. Even Franz, who was probably ten times dumber than you in anything, up and left class with a smug grin.
Discouraged, you could only continue working on the rest of the problems Ms. Forney gave you. They were a bit different than the ones she would usually offer, but you figured it was due to the guest, who you forgot was there for a good minute. She even handed out the problems on paper, which was still being integrated and pricey to the public.
One by one, the rest left until you were only left. You glanced at the clock, seeing that you had left Ded waiting long enough. Knowing him, he was still outside the schoolhouse door, probably talking to others or squatting in the corner while you were an idiot inside.
With a grimace, you swallowed the small lump in your throat and stood up, taking your sheet. Ms. Forney looked up from her grading, her eyes fixed on you as you stopped before her and looked down at the ground with a disgruntled frown.
"I—I'm sorry, Ms. Forney. I can't finish mine," you said, your voice meeker than you would have liked. She took the paper from you when you neared it to her, a small frown of her own when she saw your discontent.
"But—!" She almost reeled back from your sudden spike in volume, "I'll do tons more practice tomorrow! And the next day! I need to get home, and I can't leave Ded waiting! Please, Ms. Forney! I swear I'm not saying this to get off from doing work!" Her pale brows furrowed at the teetering edge of your voice, eyes falling down to the paper and then back to you.
It was bad enough that you were embarrassed about being left behind like this, but your mother and Ded didn't need you to drag them down. Hopefully, Ms. Forney could see that and give you some slack, if only for today. You just needed to study harder and pay more attention so it wouldn't happen again.
Ms. Forney stared a while longer before closing her eyes and sighing.
"Very well. You're dismissed for the day just—"
"Thank you!" It flew out quickly from your mouth, a grin spreading across your face as you scrambled back to your desk, grabbing your satchel and jumping over the desks that got in your way.
Your name rang across the hall as you busted through the doors, dashing in hopes she couldn't catch and reprimand you. With the Chief in the same room as her, you doubted she'd do that. As soon as you exited the school's main doors, you spotted Ded in the corner, his head bobbing up and down, and it wasn't until you got closer that you saw he was just on the cusp of nodding off.
"Sorry, I kept you waiting, Dedrich."
Instantly, his head shot up, his limbs scrambling to get up and dust himself. "Ah—yeah! You didn't take long!"
Well, at least you knew he would've gotten a good nap out of it if you kept making him wait longer. You hoped he didn't notice how high the sun was right now.
"Alright, let's go!" You swooped down and grabbed his bag, pushing his back to make him move along, "We got meals to eat and work to get done!"
He grabbed his leather bag from you, jabbing you in the ribs as you let out a mix of a wince and a shriek.
"You think I wouldn't notice, huh? It's already noon, you dolt!"
"No—that's not what—"
"Come here, you—!"
You quickly moved out of the way as he lurched for you, his arms crossing and catching nothing but air as you took off, pulling your satchel close to your chest to keep it from bumping you in your run. Ded was hot on your heels, yelling curses and strangling out your name as you led the way back to the zone.
====
As you expected, there was work back for you at the shop. Of course, you were only allowed to do the more manageable tasks, like cutting up leather or moving around tools and supplies. Adette let you take over some of her work when she whined about her fingers hurting more than normal, which you were happy about. Your mother didn't seem to mind you working on the orders like you thought she would. Maybe she was too worried about getting them all done; she didn't even have time to worry if you got nicked or cut in the process.
But, as eager as you were to help, the three of you worked late at night, even skipping out on supper to get ahead of schedule. While you were closing up shop, sluggishly folding your apron, Milo made a surprise appearance, having noticed the lights were still on in the store on his way home. Adette wasn't as chipper to see him as she usually was, in her own way, but she was glad he dropped by to help you close this place faster.
"Won't your father get worried about you coming home late," you asked him as you closed the bottom cabinets.
He looked down at you, sliding an extra tool kit you had brought out earlier. Damn him and his height. You had to use the tallest chair you could find to get that.
"My father is always encouraging me to spend as much time with you guys, actually," he said, looking pensive about his words, "He's trying to convince me that it's a man's job to take care of ladies, but we both know that the three of you don't need my help at all," he laughed as you stood up and stretched out your legs. "You're some of the most resilient women I've met."
God, if Adette didn't marry this man, he'd be snatched up by another girl.
"You're right about that," you told him, stifling a tired yawn, "but I like it when you're around. It makes Adette more tolerable."
There was some rustling in the back storage room, followed by, "I heard that!"
Milo chuckled as you wearily glared toward her voice, moving to the register to count the day's earnings. Your mother was in the back with Adette, properly storing away the crafts you slaved over today, so doing the bill and coin count was your job. You pressed a sequence of numbers on the metal keys of the register, the drawer popping out with a small metal ding, and then began your task.
It was about a quarter of an hour or so that you finally closed the doors to your shop near the center of the camp and began the walk home. Curfew was nearing, so all four of you made haste for home. Milo made a quiet, murmured conversation with your sister while you and your mother walked ahead, eager to give them their space. When you got to your apartment, the two love birds had to separate, Milo waving goodbye from outside the window as he began to jog home to avoid being caught by the patrol guards.
Adette made a beeline for her room, saying she wanted nothing to eat and would rather sleep. However, you and your mother decided to have something quick to snack on. You sat down at the kitchen table and watched her groggily, head leaning against the surface of hardwood, as she began to use the leftover bread that had gone stale and cooked up one of your and your father's favorite dishes. It was more of a desert than anything, and your mother would always tell you and him that you'd bloat yourselves if you ate too much of it. Of course, neither of you would listen and finish it within minutes, hearing her in the back while the two of you slumped at the table, bellies at total capacity. He'd tell you how he'd gorge himself on the desert after an exhausting day at the tannery back where his family came from and that it'd be his only meal for days because all they had was refined sugar, stale bread, and some nuts. Apparently, they couldn't afford some raisins or cinnamon to add more flavor than that to it.
As you reminisce about your childhood memories, your father's voice came from the tucked-away corners of your mind, soothing to your ears. The smell of warm bread pudding, the quiet clinking of your mother's cookery in the background. The rawness of your fingers from working on leather all afternoon.
This...this was home. Some things have changed over the years, but this really was home.