Chapter 7: First day

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First Person POV: (Y/n)

My absolute wonderful first day as a part of the Scouting Regiment started with a wonderful alarm called Petra Ral. Yes, I was awake, I never got any sleep that night. New place, new people, and new feelings with it – I just couldn’t make myself sleep. So, when Petra burst into my room yelling, thinking she could wake me up with her overly positive personality, she was quite disappointed to see that I was already awake. Of course, I didn’t tell her that I didn’t even go to sleep, just that I usually woke up early. Which is truth as well, but just not the case for that particular night.

She dragged me to the mess hall for a quick breakfast of oatmeal and some bread – again. And right after that, to the training grounds. There, the first thing we were ordered to do was warm up, which meant running, running, and more running. By the end, my ankle was killing me – still is. Our dear Captain's eyes were glued on me, like he thought the moment he looked away, I could kill someone or run away. It was and is a pain in the ass to hide the limp.

“So, all I have to do is to slice the nape of the titan and it’ll just drop dead,” I ask for the fifth time already, just to piss off the person instructing me with the ODM training. His annoyed face is priceless, though. His broad face is a frown, and he looks like he’s about to slice my nape.

The man has a bit of beard, and his head is covered with a cloth, looking a bit like these scarfs on your head, what some old grandmas wear but it’s tided at me back of his head instead of under his chin. He’s a weird old man. I believe his name was Dieter Ness. If I’m not mistaken.

“Yes, just go and do what you’re told already and hold your blades correctly, do not switch them around,” he groans out, visibly annoyed with me. I look at him in the eyes, furrow mine, and flick one of my blades around, just to spite him.

“What did I just tell you, runt?” he snaps at me and turns his back on me, “Now I at least understand why Flagon was constantly ranting ‘bout him,” I hear him mutter. Who is this ‘him’ he’s speaking of? And who’s Flagon?

“Come on, it’s just more comfortable, you should try it, I mean,” I swing the blade what I hold ‘wrongly’ around a bit.

“I don’t understand why Erwin insists on dragging runts here,” he mutters. Rolling my eyes, I shrug off the insult but flip the blade back. As he sees that, he lets out a sigh of relief and signals me to go. I obey, for once. Clicking buttons and pulling a lever on my gear I shoot to the woods. The wind in my hair and around me makes me smile lightly. I love the feeling of flying. I have always loved it. In the Underground, the feeling of flying took the stress of life away, and it was enough to get myself together to move on with my life.

I maneuver over and under three branches, and as the first Titan comes into view, I go to slice it the way I’m ‘supposed’ to do it. The cut is there, but it’s awkward and shallow and didn’t feel natural at all to do. Hissing out a breath, I move to the next Titan dummy. Flipping one of my blades, I raise a bit above the dummy and cut the nape my way. Spinning down on it, my blades swiftly and deeply cut the nape of the Titan dummy. Smiling, I move on toward the next and the next dummy. Until sometime later, I land beside the man who’s supposed to train me. He eyes me for a second, his eyes landing on my blades again. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, just as I’m about to ask if I passed or not a woman – person? – skips toward us. I eye the person and generally can not tell the pronounce of this person.

“Hello,” they yell, “My name’s Hange Zöe, I’ve already heard much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” they go on, grabbing my hands, making me drop my blades so I don’t injure them or myself.

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