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(Eren's POV)
EVEN IN MY SLEEP I can still hear her words, resonating in the caverns of my mind. I don't know why exactly they affect me so much. They just do. The way she looked at me sent chills down my spine. Her eyes... so drilling and cold. I'll never admit it to anyone, but it upsets me the exasperation I must cause her. For some reason... I can never do the right thing when she is around. Will she ever look at me differently? Will that coldness ever be replaced with warmth whenever her gaze shifts to me?
Maybe I'll apologize in the morning.
Maybe.
Lost in the deep nescience of sleep, I think I hear a wince come from somewhere in the forest, followed by a shrill whinny; a sound that can only come from a spooked horse. The hairs at the back of my neck perk up. What is going on?
I open my eyes and am met with a terrifying sight: the barrel of a rifle.
"Don't move." The man holding the rifle warns. I'm too shocked to even react. He wears a bag over his head with two punched holes for eyes. He isn't the only one either. There are about six or seven men, all of them surrounding our sleeping bags. The other's begin to stir, and the rustle of gasps spreads as they recognize the threat.
"Gather their ODM gear. Quickly." The man closest to me says, and the majority of them move around our camp and search, leaving only three to keep watch over us.
So they're thieves..., I think in disgust. The nerve they must have... "What will you do with it?" I ask.
The man's beady eyes seem to glint evilly through the bag's holes. "There are people who will pay handsomely for these. You can't beat the titans anyway, so what's wrong with taking useless equipment?"
No. There is no way in hell we are going down without a fight. Summoning my courage I spring into action, tipping the rifle up and pushing it against him. The others get to their feet, staring at me wide-eyed, but too scared to follow suit.
"Everyone, now!" I shout, struggling against the thief as he forces me back.
Armin calls my name worriedly, about to take off, but another thief points his gun at his head and he second-guesses himself. I grunt. My arms are aching. Isn't anyone going to do something?
Jean suddenly gets up and makes a run for it. The thief I'm trying to disarm sees him, and to our horror, he pulls the trigger on the rifle, which is unintentionally and unluckily pointed in Jean's direction. The bullet flies and scrapes Jean's cheek. Everyone freezes. No one dares even breathe. A few more millimeters... and he'd be dead. Jean is left paralyzed in his tracks, his leg paused in mid-step, suppressing a gasp. His cheek starts to bleed.
I fail to hold the thief back anymore. He shoves me backwards with his rifle. I fall to the rough ground, the side of my face bruising. A groan escapes me.
"You'd better think twice before moving. Don't make a sound." The thief warns again.
For the next twenty minutes no one even twitches for fear of having a bullet shot into their skull. All we can do is watch, like standby ducks, as they rob us of our gear and load it onto their wagons. The way they laugh and praise themselves for their success is sickening.
"What about this one?" A thief emerges from the trees, carrying an indistinguishable weight over his shoulder. I can't tell what it is from where he stands. Its too dark.
"Eh, lets take her with us. She's pretty enough. Perverts at the capital will pay a good price." Another thief standing by the wagon says, chuckling darkly.
Wait... did he say 'her'?
The thief carrying the 'her' moves towards the wagon, stepping into the moonlight. What I see stops my heart. Johanna dangles limply over his shoulder, her wrists and ankles bound tightly. I hear Jean gasp and know precisely the reason: blood trickles from her head, little drops of crimson falling to the ground. They load her onto the first wagon, the one without the ODM gear. But nonetheless they rob her from us like she's nothing but stock. Nothing but mere merchandise.
The first wagon with Johanna inside departs first. "We won't take your lives." One of the thieves says as he and his partners in crime climb into the second wagon. They train their guns at us even while inside. There's no way for us to stop them from leaving.
The thief continues, "But if you follow us," I'm certain he's smiling beneath that bag over his head, "we will kill you."
And they drive away down the beaten path, their silhouette getting smaller and smaller, until the wagon is nothing but a speck of black amidst the night.
We collectively exhale. I wasn't aware I was holding my breath until now. When I inhale again it is pure revulsion, anger and bitter hatred filling me as easily as oxygen. I don't think so much about the gear anymore but the way they just took Johanna without any consideration towards her dignity. She doesn't mean shit to them.
The leader of our own group... and we lost her. Now she's probably going to be sold and...
I don't even want to think of it.
"If we attacked as a group, we could've done something!" I tell the others.
"That's your opinion." says Jean. There's a hurt in his eyes, the shock of losing his bestfriend settling in. "I don't agree. Actually, because of your crazy behavior we were all put in danger."
Marco frowns. "This training is done for."
"Definitely." Armin agrees sadly.
"Are we abandoning Johanna?" I ask harshly.
They seem to shrink a little. Marco shakes his head, "That's not it! But with just us, we can't do anything! We should go back and ask the instructor—"
"And if we don't make it in time?" I say, aggravated. Did they not see my point? "I won't accept this as it is! Stay here if you want, but I'll save Johanna alone if I have to!"
I walk off, going no direction in particular, ignoring their protests and calls. Marching through the forest, I will my mind to think of something— anything that can help me get to those thieves. But my mind goes blank. I'm too fired up to think properly. Armin is better when it comes to this... but me? What about me? What good am I?
An image flashes in my head. That horrible memory from that fateful day... Shiganshina... the titans... Mom.
Its the same predicament again and again. I couldn't save Mom that day, and I'm too helpless to save Johanna now. What is wrong with me?
Footsteps approach me from behind. I feel a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. "All our horses were released! How are you going to find her?" Jean asks.
"None of your business!" I slap his hand away.
"It is my business!" He raises his voice. "I'm going with you, dumbass!"
I can hardly believe my ears. Out of all the people in our group, Jean is the last one I'd expect to side with me.
More footsteps. The rest appear from behind the trees, walking towards us. The sinking feeling in my chest lifts. They don't need to say 'We're with you'. It is written on their faces.
I nod. "Let's do this."
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(Johanna's POV)
"You're going to be okay. I promise. Dadda promises."
That voice... I almost want to believe it.
I wake up to a throbbing pain. The side of my head is tender where it was struck, sticky with what I can only guess is dry blood.
My pulse quickens. What happened?
I'm in a wagon, lying on my side and powerless thanks to the ropes tying my ankles and wrists. Through the gaping opening I can see the dirt road as the wagon drives, the wheels clattering on the rocky ground. There is a second wagon tailing us not ten feet apart. I see men inside it; all of them tattooed, gruff, and talking lowly. Who are they? What are they doing? I squint my eyes, and under the moonlight I see multiple metal glints in their wagon. Its the blades of the ODM gear, boxed and ready for sale.
Everything clicks into place. It all comes back to me. I remember the blunt, painful sensation of a rifle making contact with my head. A horse's shrill whinny.... and then darkness.
"Look who's awake..." a voice growls. A foot turns me over and I'm met with the face of a heavily-pierced man. His coal-black eyes study me from head to toe. "Nice to meet ya, pretty girl. A new life in the interior awaits ya. So what's your preference... dukes or noble officers?"
He and the wagon driver both roar with laughter.
How dare he... I try spitting a string of insults. It all comes out as inarticulate, muddled grunting. That's when I realize I have a gag in my mouth, tied securely at the back of my head. The corners of my stretched lips have turned so numb that I can't even feel it there.
Damn it all.
Despite my tied ankles, I flex my legs and kick the pierced thief. He cries out, clutching his shin and hopping around. Quite comically, if I may add.
He fixes a menacing glare on me. "Why you little..." His hand curls into a fist. I shut my eyes just as he swings—
Shouts erupt in the second wagon. I open my eyes and I, along with the pierced thief, looked out the opening. My heart swells. I would smile if my mouth was capable.
It is Eren and Jean. They dropped into the second wagon from above, ripping the tarp. The element of surprise catches the thieves off guard. They try fighting them off, but Eren and Jean have the upper hand so far. Its almost surreal seeing them work together instead of against each other.
"Quick! Get the gun!" The driver up front yells.
Gun? I watch as the pierced thief grabs something from behind a crate and my heart jumps to my throat. No.
He aims at Jean and Eren. I scream despite knowing full well that they can't hear me. Of course... I have to do something— anything. Before he has a chance to pull the trigger, I squirm and position myself to kick him again. The force is so strong this time that my feet knock his legs out from under him and he falls heavily, the gun skidding out of his hands.
"You bitch!"
If he was angry before, he's furious now. He grabs the gun again and points it at me, making a perfect target of my forehead. I freeze. Hopefully, I don't look as terrified on the outside as I truly am on the inside.
In this sliver of a moment I foolishly wonder what it might be like... having a bullet planted in my brain. Perhaps it won't be so painful.
On cue, a grappling hook flies in and slaps the gun out of the pierced-thief's hands. I look to the second wagon and see that Eren and Jean have their ODM gear on, ready to attack. They fly to the front of this wagon heroically, and with synchronized precision they slash the reigns of the horse with their blades. The horse pulling the wagon gallops away, frightened for it's life, and the driver's face indicates nothing but terror as the wagon continues forward at high speeds with no steering whatsoever. There's no other choice. He has to pull the break.
The wheels screech. But the momentum keeps going. We spin out of control until the entire wagon inevitably collapses on its side, skidding and skidding until finally we come to a crash against a large boulder. My body jostles and I wince upon impact. Dirt and dust clouds the air, making it difficult to see. My head throbs. I feel as if my whole world is flipped upside down. I'm so disoriented that I hardly feel the pair of hands wrap around the collar of my jacket, dragging me forwards like baggage.
The dust clears in seconds, and the first thing I see are my comrades, standing together some ten feet away with odious expressions, but also hint of fear that I can't understand. Why are they frozen in place?
Then I feel it. A sharp edge grazes the skin of my neck. One of the thieves has me execution style, on my knees, gripping my hair tightly with one hand and holding the knife at my throat with his other. I can feel his ragged breath close to my ear. My heart thunders in my chest. Oh my God... please let this be a dream.
Will my life really end here? With absolutely nothing I can do to prevent it? For once my life is no longer in my hands. Its at the mercy of these thieves, mercy which I doubt they can spare.
Mercy which I doubt they possess at all.
The wagon driver fixates a gun on them. "Do as I say and hand over the gear! Hurry up!" He barks.
Without any hesitance they begin removing their gear, unclipping it from their straps. Except Armin. No, Armin doesn't move an inch. As much as it perplexes me I notice he is smiling at something in the trees behind us. What could possibly be so amusing in a moment like this?
"Shit, you've got to be kidding me..." I hear the pierced-thief holding me mutter to himself. I turn my head slightly to look at his worn-out face. Whether he's aware I'm listening or not, I do not know. But he keeps going, "How could this happen to me? Even if we run away from titans... what can you do out here where nothing can be risked? Don't burden others... I should've taught my daughter that much." His tone is laced with regret.
His words touch me. They shouldn't, but for some unexplainable, nonsensical reason they do. For just a second I catch a glimpse of the true man behind the thief. He's just trying to get by... he has a daughter.... He probably didn't choose this life of thievery. It was simply forced on him with no other option. Its either this, or die.
Back when I was younger... I too had to choose between stealing and death by starvation.
"Quit the stalling!" The other thief yells impatiently. "Hurry up!"
CLANG!
Two figures drop out of the trees and in a flash, before I can process the action, the thief is disarmed of his gun and the pierced-one holding me gets kicked brutally to the ground.
Its Annie and Mikasa from the other training group. I'm saved.
Relief doesn't settle in yet. I watch as Annie, who kicks down the thief holding me, raises her blade and pulls back, so close to slicing his throat open—
"DONF KILF HIM!"
The blade stops at his Adam's apple, nicking the surface of the skin, but going no further. Annie's glacier eyes flick to me in question. One look at my face is all she needs to understand.
"Hm." She brings her blade down, albeit reluctantly.
The tension diffuses. Our group allows a quiet sigh of relief to pass through them. Our worries lift just as the sun lifts itself too, gradually shifting the sky into pinks and yellows as dawn announces itself.
Jean rushes to help me. "Are you okay?" He asks.
I stare back at him warily, the gag still in my mouth.
"Oh. Right." He says and unties the knot at the back of my head. He removes it and instantly my lips meld into their normal shape, aching a little from the forced position.
"Thank yo- oof!"
Jean hugs me tightly before I can finish. This is so like him, I recognize. He's never been good with sentimental words. Or any verbal expression, actually. But the embrace is more than enough... its a communication in itself.
After cutting the ropes binding my wrists and ankles, Jean takes me to Krista, who gathers the medical kit that was supplied to us for the training. I sit with her as she grabs a cotton swab and dampens it with alcohol. Several from our group and Mikasa and Annie's group, who arrived with the Military Police, approach me to ask how I'm doing. I fake a composed attitude, though inside an underlying, dark feeling nags at me...
I almost died. My comrades almost died too in their attempt to save me. What a depressing slap from reality.
Krista dabs the cotton swab on my injured spot. I hiss.
"Oh! I'm sorry..." she apologizes timidly.
"No, it's okay. Just... natural reaction." I assure. The girl is too compassionate for her own good.
Someone clears their throat. We turn and see— to my great surprise— Eren Jaeger standing awkwardly. Alone.
"Um, I can take it from here Krista." He offers.
The blonde nods and gives him the cotton swab. She walks off towards the horses and Eren takes her place next to me, sitting down. A stiff silence envelopes the two of us. Why is he here, doing this?
"I want to apologize." He answers my internal question, as though he can read my mind.
I wave him off, about to stand. "You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do. Please, just listen?" He says. This is first time I've heard him make an earnest request.
For the sake of not being a total jerk, I stay put and allow him to continue.
Before he does, though, he rummages through the medical kit. "You still have some blood on your face."
"Oh," is all I can say. I didn't think I bled that much.
Eren takes out a small, wet cloth and before I can object he presses it to the side of my face, wiping the dry, dark red residue. He is unexpectedly gentle, a trait that— after so many of his far-from-civil impressions— I didn't know he possessed.
"I don't have the best temper... I know. Mikasa does a good job of telling me that." He confesses, and I watch him carefully as he continues to clean, now moving on to the actual injury. "But I never meant to cause you— or anyone in our group— any stress."
Even though he isn't making eye contact with me, busy inspecting the wound through my coarse hair, I am nonetheless lured into the irises's of his eyes. This is hardly the time, I know. But I didn't notice how nice they are before; honest green, like emeralds in their rawest state.
"I guess I should work on it, huh?"
I snap back to the present. "What?"
He stops and looks at me, confused. "My temper. Were you listening?"
"Um, sure." I say.
"So does this mean you forgive me?"
There's no getting out of this. "Yes, Eren. I forgive you." I give in.
"Hm. Eren..." He repeats, turning to look in the medical kit once more. I can't see it, but I can sense the smirk on his face.
"What?" I fold my arms, somewhat embarrassed. At what? I'm not entirely sure.
"Nothing." He shrugs and faces me again, a roll of gauze in his hands. He unrolls a long strip. "It's just... you usually call me Jaeger. Why do you do that?"
Now its my turn to shrug. He starts wrapping the gauze around my head. "No reason in particular. What's the big fuss, anyway? Plenty of people call me Jo."
"Well I think," he cuts the gauze with a pair scissors and puts away the rest of it, "Johanna is better. It's more you. There, you're all patched up."
"Pfft... And you think you know me so well?" I test.
He stands, dusting off his pants. His next words throw me off. "I hope to someday." He gives me one last confident smirk before departing to a group of people trying to pack up our supplies.
Only one question burns in my mind as I sit there, completely taken aback.
Who does he think he is?
➹End of Chapter 4