"Somebody take a look at me," said Desmond, entering.

A uniformed woman. Apparently she was the person who had been unlucky enough to stay behind to watch the front while her coworkers took a break.

The woman stood up quickly, looking at him with wide, panicked eyes.

"What happened now?

Desmond was taken aback by the intensity in her expression. In her voice.

"Hey, nothing. Nothin'. It's just that... we had a... little training accident.

By we had, of course, he meant him and Amy, who was accompanying him.

The nurse let out a sigh of relief.

"Of course. Excuse me. Since there's been nothing but one disaster after another since the initiation, I thought.... "She shook her head. She didn't finish the sentence, but what she had thought was obvious. Desmond supposed he should have predicted that reaction.

Still, he didn't feel guilty for having handled things this way and not another.

She was a professional. Even if it had been a real emergency, it was her job to take care of it. If she wasn't prepared for the intensity of this life, she could have stayed on as a nurse in some random hospital.

No one had mandated her to find a job in a place where soldiers were fighting and dying.

She couldn't have expected the attack on the academy, nor Laura's betrayal, it was true. But, although working in the infirmary of a soldiers' academy was not, by any means, like doing her job on a battlefield and that was what it had seemed in these weeks, almost... it wasn't far off either.

If she didn't have the stomach for it, she should quit for her own good.

He wouldn't tell her any of this of course.

For one thing, he didn't care what that woman did with her life.

Besides, he had learned that people rarely appreciated advice of that kind.

They refused to accept the truth, even if they had it face to face, and would get angry for no reason. As if you hadn't said something that even they themselves thought, deep down.

So it was best to keep one' s mouth shut.

"Come here. Sit down," the nurse continued.

This was not the same nurse with whom he had had that unpleasant conversation.

Of that he was sure, and he was grateful.

He did as she asked.

The nurse put her hand on his chest, and went to work.

A warmth spread across his chest.

The pain began to fade.

Not that she had somehow guessed that he was hurt in the chest. She had no way of doing that, because Desmond hadn't complained or put his hand to his chest.

It's just that... His affinity was not healing, rather the opposite, but at least he knew this: that it was best to start with the center of the body.

Then it was on to everything else.

It didn't last long, not even half a minute, he was sure.

But it was painful and took forever.

Here was another thing he knew about healing: the magical energy that ran through his body, reinforcing it, served as interference.

"That's it," said the nurse, but she didn't need to. He felt it.

It was impossible to overlook the fact that the pain was completely gone. Not because she had anesthetized him, but because she had cured him.

"What an accident," she continued, "You almost caved in your chest. What exactly happened?

Desmond grimaced.

The nurse had asked out of innocent curiosity, or perhaps he should say professional, but talking about it would only make Amy feel worse than she already did.

As proof, Amy cringed as soon as she heard that, as if the woman had confronted her by screaming accusations in her face.

Better get this over with quickly.

"A block of ice, a rather large one, grazed my chest," Desmond said.

"Yeah. Yeah, if it had been more than a graze, you'd be dead. Although for you that's not… " The nurse blanched slightly. "I'm sorry. Sorry, that's not what I meant."

"That it's not a problem? That's true." It wouldn't do him any good to clarify that, in reality, his power wasn't as convenient as it might seem. "But, even if I can wake up from death like from a bad dream, it's still not pleasant."

"No. Of course it must not be. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Really, why was she so insistent? What did she think she'd done? "It's only natural that you can't ignore someone like me... Although I didn't do it out of my own ability," he added, remembering, fortunately not too late, the official story. "Without Christina, maybe.... Anyway, Thank you."

"I just did my job."

"And that means I have nothing to be grateful for?" he asked, puzzled by her answer.

He wasn't the only one.

The nurse just looked at him, not knowing what to say.

Desmond shook his head. People were hard to understand. Because he wasn't normal, yes, he was well aware of that and wouldn't make excuses. But at times like this he thought it wasn't his fault this time. And he believed he was right.

This woman was the odd one out here.

"Well... " he muttered to break the awkward silence. Despite the obvious invitation, the nurse said nothing more. Okay. Okay. Anyway, bye.

"Y"yeah. Goodbye.

They left the infirmary.

"I'm sorry," said Amy. For what I did to you, and because.... "She gestured wildly, clenched her fists as if trying to grasp something only she could see. For being so stupid. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I never once thought about what you'd be going through. It didn't even occur to me.

"It's all right. I'm fine, you see."

Amy shook her head.

"You shouldn't... You shouldn't let the fact that you feel sorry for me change the way you see things. You have a right to be angry. You should be angry."

"Listen, I made this choice. I wasn't sure you'd be willing to talk if I gave you time to think about it. You know, by going to get checked out first. So I don't mind. I really don't. Forget about it."

"Okay. Okay. Okay, I guess. But... I attacked you. I almost killed you."

Desmond stopped suddenly.

So suddenly Amy took a few extra seconds and bumped into him. Gently, not hard enough to knock him off balance or for them both to end up on the ground, of course. They had both just been walking.

"Hey," Desmond said, with a grin on his face and an urge to laugh, for once, though he was going to swallow it, "watch your step."

Amy looked at him as if to tell him that now was not the time to joke.

"You don't look pleased."

"Of course I don't. I'm being serious."

"And so am I. It's just... What can I tell you? This is just like before, only our roles have been switched. Believe it or not, I don't think it's a big deal. I don't forgive you because there's no one to forgive."

"Because you feel sorry for me now. But that doesn't change what I did. That's why I wanted to tell you. So you wouldn't look at me with different eyes. But it's too late now, there's no point in complaining anymore."

"I feel sorry for you. That's true."

Amy lowered her head, biting her lower lip.

"But the most important thing is that I understand you now. Plain and simple. I was angry when I thought that... I don't even know what I thought. That you had done something unreasonable. But now I understand, I would have done the same thing in your situation. That's why I can't stay mad at you. That's the only reason."

Amy remained silent.

"But..."

"But what, Amy? Tell me what I can do for you. And I will."

Amy couldn't answer.

"I guess you're right. If I keep protesting, you keep throwing my own words in my face. And it's the right thing to do. You're right, this is just like before. It's about me, not you. Now it's just up to me... to accept what I did. It's not something I can atone for, though."

Desmond didn't say the first thing that came to his mind. Because yes, as she had rightly said, this was about Amy herself and not about him.

Therefore, how he felt about it would make no difference.

He could tell her that he didn't blame her for anything, that she had nothing to feel guilty about, until he ran out of breath. But she would continue to blame herself.

She would continue to feel that she needed to do something to make up for that sin.

He knew that all too well.

He shouldn't have expected anything different from the beginning, because he felt the same way.

Both Christina and Amy had forgiven him for choosing Abigail that night, for turning his back on them....

But that didn't stop the guilt from haunting him like a shadow.

Even though it hadn't changed anything in the end, he felt like he should have....

And worse. That maybe, maybe, he had. Betraying them. No matter how much the two of them insisted otherwise.

"Good luck with that." That was pretty much all he could say to her under the circumstances.

"Thanks. I'm really going to need it."

They walked on.

Amy had been accompanying him so far without saying a word about it. He wondered if she had the same destination in mind as he did. In other words, the team' s room.

He wasn't just going back and forth to kill time while he talked to her.

He wanted to go back to the team' s room because that was the closest thing to home for him. The apartment was no longer more than a blur in his memory, a ghost of the past.

His entire past, in fact, seemed incredibly hazy compared to the intensity and vividness of these past two weeks.

Less than half a month carried more weight than the rest of his life.

Both the half he couldn't remember and the half he didn't remember much of because there was virtually nothing to remember.

Because his days had been virtually identical, easily interchangeable with any of the others.

Even though he had had to suffer an endless succession of disasters in such a short time, each change had made him feel alive.

Each disaster, the pain and fear, had anchored him to the moment.

Yes. It was no absolute exaggeration that more things had happened to him in these two weeks than an entire year of his previous life. Any one of them. It made no difference, as he had said.

Not to mention that it hadn't all been bad.

The miracle he had wished for ten years had finally come to pass. He was far away from his savior again, but now he felt attached to her just as his sword was attached to him.

He felt as if she could appear at any moment, setting aside distance, place, circumstance, any trace of logic.

He felt like the heartbeat he heard was not just his own heartbeat.

It was his heart beating to the same rhythm as Abigail's. Following her rhythm.

Not to mention Christina and Amy. Because, despite everything, despite the fact that things seemed to have reached a bitter end not so long ago, things were okay.

So he didn't care how much he'd had to suffer along the way.

He felt happy.

He felt blessed. Because he was.

In fact, even the bitter ending that had almost taken place between him and Amy - between the three of them, really, because such an event would have broken the group into pieces - had been for the best, all things considered.

Step by step, they were getting closer and closer to each other.

I had a feeling that...

That everything else had been like a prelude. An elegant masked ball.

But now the masks were falling, now they could really start to get to know each other.

He wanted to know anything about her. Everything.

Not just the things they would have no problem telling anyone, but especially the things they would only tell someone they trusted.

Maybe it was despicable, but he felt excited and happy that Christina had confessed to him that she was planning to leave this life.

And that Amy had told him what had happened to her.

That they had both felt they could do it. There couldn't have been a better compliment, could there?

When they got near the bedroom door, Amy tugged at him, pulling him back. There was tightness in her face. He didn't have to ask to know why.

She was a nervous wreck.

"What's wrong?" Desmond asked. He almost blurted out now, because this was really too much. He had thought everything was more or less all right now. "Yeah, right. Should have known better."

Though he supposed this wasn't a new problem. That this conversation was going to be a continuation of before.

He understood why she was like this, but he wished she would just stop it.

She wasn't doing any good with that attitude.

Neither to herself or to him.

At least that's what he thought. Not that he was an expert at healing the hurt. Quite the contrary. All you do is let the wound get infected, let it start to fill with pus, let it eat you up inside, don't you?, an inner voice whispered to him.

Desmond grimaced and pushed those thoughts aside.

Not too far away. Not so far that he couldn't find them again, for that was completely impossible. No matter how far he pushed, they wouldn't leave his head.

No matter how far he pushed, he would run into them again sooner rather than later.

Whether he wanted to or not.

"If she's there, I won't even know how to look at her face. I have a feeling she'll take one look at me and see right through me, she'll know the truth. It's absurd, I know, but...."

She couldn't finish that one, but.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Was this the problem? At least it had an easy solution. Common sense.

"She doesn't ever have to know. I won't tell him, unless you tell me otherwise."

"I... I don't want her to know," Amy began, hesitantly. She was so nervous that she wouldn't even look him in the eye. She was looking at his nose, avoiding his gaze as if she was more afraid of him than Christina, more afraid of what she could find in his eyes. "But I don't want to become a hypocrite. This mess started because I was upset that my partner kept a secret, from her and from you. I should tell her. I think I have to."

Well, that was... respectable.

He had to admit it.

Why was it that always the respectable decisions, doing the right thing, always led to more trouble?

The way the world worked was twisted.

Yes, and he was a product of this twisted world where doing the right thing was never enough. Never.

Focus, he thought.

It was as if he was concentrating on ruining everything he had achieved.

He had enough trouble with these two, he had no need whatsoever to create problems for himself by chasing the ghosts his mind conjured up. Giving them credibility.

"No one forces you to do anything, except yourself. But I think you're being scared for no reason. She'll understand, as I did."

"Are you sure?"

Of course he was sure. He wouldn't have said such a thing if he'd thought Amy would hear doubt in his voice, and he wasn't good enough to hide it successfully.

If he had doubted, Amy would have known immediately, and then things would have gotten worse.

Not worse before they got better.

Worse, plain and simple. Two steps backward, without the opportunity to take a single step forward.

Since Amy wouldn't trust whatever came out of his mouth, after that.

"Sure. Why not?" He summed up his thoughts that way.

Amy shook her head, and his pulse spiked, since his first thought was that that was a bad sign. But then he noticed the soft, no, more like tired, smile she was sketching.

"I wish I could have your confidence. I don't know where you get it from. Desmond, you're her favorite....." she added bitterly ": and I'm a nonentity. I don't think that..."

"Why do you say that?"

"You know. The secret. I don't blame her for confiding it only to you. Or rather, I shouldn't blame her... But it is what it is. It proves what I said."

"You said you don't want her to see you in a different light. Christina's secret... is of the same nature."

Amy reacted to this as if he had punched her in the face. Then she grimaced as if he was going to beat her up.

It took her longer than it should have to realize why she was reacting. But he realized.

"I'm not saying she was abused, like you. I'm referring to the reason she didn't tell you. Just that."

-Ah. Ah... It doesn't say anything good about me, but I still feel that... that I need to know. That I'm going to go crazy if I don't know. I have a lot to work on.

Desmond silently agreed.

And, of course, she wasn't the only one.

-He may not be in there. But if he is, he may well have detected our presence. He may even have been listening to us.

Maybe he should have kept that part quiet, too.

Maybe.

Amy thought about it for a while. This was her eloquent response.

-Fuck. I hope not.

-That makes two of us.

But her especially.

Now that he thought about it, it was the first time he'd heard her curse instead of talking like, well, what she was: a rich girl.

But not privileged, he reminded himself. The two things aren't the same. Not always.

They finally entered the team room. Christina could have been literally anywhere in the academy, but she was indeed there.

Lying on the bed, cross-legged, reading a book she held in one hand.

She lowered her hands, resting the book on her chest, so she could take a look at them.

"Here you are. What were you doing? I say so because you've come back together."

"Talking," Desmond stepped forward, before Amy could blunder into telling an elaborate lie. Christina would realize she was lying if Amy made things too complicated.

He saw no problem with Christina knowing the truth, but Amy didn't want him to, and he had promised himself that he would respect her wish.

Two secrets to keep, he thought. Soon how many will it be?

"And training. We had a little accident."

"And who got the worst of it?"

"Me."

"I'm sorry," Amy said, again, biting her lower lip and looking down. In his opinion, she wasn't doing a very good job if she was trying not to look suspicious.

Although he wasn't good at this sort of thing, he's doing a better job.

Good enough to fool Christina? So that she wouldn't think something else had happened?

He wasn't sure, but he didn't think so.

It's not like Christina was the detective in a mystery novel. The unreasonable thing would be for her to begin to suspect even though she had no reason to do so, to even consider that the truth of what had happened was plausible.

Desmond hadn't even really lied.

They hadn't been training, but it had been an accident. There was no way for her to catch the lie with the little data she had.

Right?

"You've said it enough times, I think," Desmond said. "You don't have to apologize. Accidents are accidents. And I'm tougher than most."

Christina picked up her book, starting to read again.

"You must know that both are true. Take his word for it."

"Yes. It's not that simple, but... yes."

■

Without any emergency, time passed quickly. Like the fall of a shooting star, the arrival of each day was brief and merciless. He didn't want to be in danger of dying over and over again.

As he had said, he hadn't chosen to come back here just to kill alongside his teammates.

He had killed enough.

He already knew all he needed to know about it.

He wanted to experience a normal life, he really did.... However, it was becoming unbearable for him. He felt like an animal must have felt if it suddenly took roots, literally, like a plant.

He felt like... he felt like he was rotting inside.

With each passing day, the more that feeling increased. They continued to train as a team, of course. They didn't miss a day. However, there was a limit to what they could do on their own.

If one could manage on one's own, the existence of the academies wouldn't be necessary.

Desmond hadn't stood idly by.

He had tried to change that, asking one of the teachers for help. Asking her to give them a lesson, even though classes hadn't resumed yet.

A practical lesson, of course.

It might be necessary, but he didn't have any interest in historical data, the intricacies of the language and such things.

He had come here to become a soldier. Nothing more, nothing less.

So all he needed was practical knowledge.

...But practical or not, the teacher in question had refused. Saying she couldn't. Saying she was too busy, that everyone else was.

Desmond was quick to put that to the test and found out she was right.

No one was going to take the time to teach them under the circumstances. Not yet.

He hadn't asked all the teachers, but he had no desire to repeat the cycle of getting his hopes up only to feel crushing disappointment.

Instead, he had turned to the library books.

Teachers weren't the only teachers.

The books contained wisdom that had accumulated through the ages. No doubt I'd found something useful, he thought. And so it was.

Having the books was not the same as understanding their contents, of course, and even then they had to do it alone. But it was something.

Not enough, though.

His teammates appreciated it and didn't seem to have any complaints, but he didn't feel content. He felt like he was eating himself up inside. That it wouldn't stop until there was nothing left.

He felt like laughing.

To laugh at himself, at how pathetic he was. He did nothing but complain in this life. When he pursued something seemingly unattainable, he suffered for the pursuit, he suffered because his hands were empty and his heart was cold....

But when he got his hands on something, or got his chance, he also suffered.

He always found a way to complain about something.

That kind of person was laughable. Of course he was. It wouldn't change anything that he refused to admit how pathetic his attitude was.

Still, it bothered him, it bothered him. He couldn't live with this.

But this, anything really, would be bearable if it weren't for one fact: Abigail wasn't answering his calls.

He still felt his connection to her.

Of course, Abigail couldn't die. Abigail needed him in order to die. But that didn't mean he had no reason to worry. Because, no matter how much he told himself that, it didn't change that she wasn't answering his calls, that she wasn't coming to him. And that had to mean something.

He'd already tried six times today and nothing. This wasn't helping at all.

Ah, he would end up losing his mind if this kept up, something had to change, either with the appearance of his savior or that the situation here at the academy would improve for him. That the teachers would finally have the time off to, you know, do their jobs.

Or that, I don't know, that Amy would hire a personal tutor to fill in for them.

It wasn't a bad idea.

But taking advantage of his partner's wealth, as if he was only interested in money, or as if he had done something so that she was obligated to return a favor, didn't sit well with him.

Besides, they had reached the top, proving themselves.

So they were entitled to the education they had earned.If in the future Amy hired someone, even if he was willing to ask that of her and she agreed, they would not be as good as any teacher at the academy.

If they were that good, they wouldn't just be a private tutor.

They would be here, teaching.

No, that wouldn't be enough for him. On the contrary.

Thrown overboard without the slightest qualm, as if it had no meaning.

Was this the normal life he wanted to experience?

Having nothing to do, doing nothing in particular, not being able to guide himself by a goal? As if he was wandering in a darkness in which not even his hands could help him orient himself, because there was nothing to feel.

Perhaps it was too premature a conclusion, but at the moment he didn't like it at all.

To his surprise, something did indeed change.

Classes would start up again. Soon, very soon.

"Against all odds," Christina said, "I suppose the situation must not be so desperate yet that they're in such a hurry to send us to die on the front lines. With a bit of luck, we might be able to enjoy a school year before the war breaks out and things get this bad."

"You sound so... clinical." Amy grimaced. Sorry, not that I'm holding it against you. It's just that... Well, just..."

"You don't have to explain. And I understand. You're just telling the truth. It's because at the moment it has nothing to do with me, it's not real." Leaning her arms on the edge of the window, she leaned forward. "Even though I know it's going to happen, part of me thinks it's not possible. That the threat of war will pass like some weird conspiracy theory. Like a bad dream. But, when it does... When, not if... I'll save my tears for that moment."

Had she been annoyed by Amy's admittedly thoughtless comment after all? There was an uncharacteristic tension in her voice.

But shouldn't she be pleased?

Wasn't that exactly what she wanted, for Amy to think she wasn't afraid? It was hard to understand.

Speaking of which, it was amazing how his impression of the girls had changed in such a short time.

Amy had struck him as assertive, confident, everything he wasn't and more so at first. And Christina had seemed to him like a helpless little animal.

Meek, the kind of person who let herself be pushed around by people like the bastards who'd been picking on her when they'd first met.

Someone who... who needed his protection, arrogant and patronizing as that sounded. Once again he was grateful that no one could hear his thoughts.

Whereas now the roles had switched.

Christina had a will of iron and Amy gave the impression that she would fall over if so much as blew on her. Something like that.

The fear and weakness Christina had shown back then hadn't been a sham. It had been very real, as she had confessed to him.

As for Amy, apparently her confidence and the attitude she had shown him at first had been nothing more than a mask.

Yes. The Amy he had met on the train and the one he now had in front of him seemed like two different people.

Talk about fitting in or not....

Her initial attitude didn't seem appropriate or characteristic of a girl who had grown up in the bosom of a wealthy family, with the expectations that that undoubtedly entailed.

She had acted... Well, a bit like him.

Too direct and sharp-tongued. Almost vulgar.

Those kinds of issues interested him far more than what the two of them were talking about right now.

If the war came in a year's time, fine.

If it came tomorrow, then fine, too; he wouldn't go so far as to say he was looking forward to it, because it wasn't true, but he wouldn't avoid it either.

He was a soldier.

His mission was to save lives.

His mission was to take lives.

To save thousands and thousands of lives in return. The lives of human beings, and not mere animals.

He would never hesitate to carry out his duty. Was there any reason to hesitate?

No reason.

No, no, no.

Of course he wouldn't!

"Yes. Yes, you're absolutely right. It's just that I didn't explain myself well. Let me explain. Hugh, I hope I don't screw it up any further, but what I meant... what I was wondering is how you do it. It seems almost as if... you're not afraid of anything. Even that night, you cared more about us than you did about yourself."

Christina looked back at her.

"Yes. You may be right."

As Eren had expected, she didn't dare to be honest about it.

On the other hand, she hadn't lied outright this time.

Eren didn't know why, but she had left it all in an ambiguous you may be right.

"And what do you think?" It took Eren several seconds to realize that this sentence was addressed to him.

"Hey, about what?"

"Weren't you listening? I got the impression I was. Well, to make a long story short, about the coming war. And about me, if you're feeling daring," she added with a mischievous grin.

Thanks for setting the record straight, he thought. If you'd made a poker face, I wouldn't have known how to react.

Desmond shrugged.

"I don't know what you want me to say. When I get there, I'll fight. It's my... It's our job, after all. Am I afraid?" He began the question with a clear sense of how he was going to proceed, but for some reason, as he said it, he suddenly went blank. "I am."

That fact was something that even he had only just learned.

He licked his lips.

"Very much so. But whether I am or not, the day will come and I've gone too far to turn back. Rather, this is the only right way for me to live. As for you, Christina...."

There was alarm in the girl's expression for a moment.

Relax, I'm not foolish or mean enough to expose your secret for no reason.

He had kept it for a little over half a month.

And would continue to do so, until she changed her mind, or if Amy caught them talking about it at some point, which Eren doubted. Not that it was possible. Not that Christina would want to bring it up again. Yeah, there was no way.

"You don't seem to be afraid, indeed. I'm just not sure that's a good thing."

Things were very different when you had something to lose. Harder, yes.

But also more special and brighter.

This daily life of doing nothing in particular was killing him, yes. But it wasn't all bad.

"You may be right," Christina repeated dryly.

He hoped he hadn't made her angry. He had only meant to give her advice in the form of a little hint.

She probably wouldn't be angry with him. Eren thought she was the kind of person who got angry mostly at herself. At least in cases like this, where there was no clear "culprit," where things weren't so easy, so black and white.

Or, put another way, so extreme.

"In a couple of days, our journey will officially begin," Amy said. "Finally."

"Yes. It's about time.... For a long time, it's going to be weird for me to worry about exams and all that shit when up until not so long ago it was my neck that I was worried about. And both of yours, of course."

"Tell me about it," Christina said, "I can't get used to this quiet, and school hasn't even started yet."

Apparently she felt more or less the same way Eren did more or less.

Well, no surprise there. She was the one who was most like him.

■

A couple of days later, they met once again by the window. But this time Desmond was between them, not lying on the bed, and they weren't there to talk about serious things and nothing in particular while they watched the scenery, trying to distract themselves, to kill a little time.

No, today, this morning, they had gathered to observe the initiation test.

A new batch of scapegoats had arrived at the academy, despite the attack and the natural fear of a repeat. The worst kind of fear was the one that gave birth to show that they were not safe. Neither at the academy, nor possibly in their homes; for many of them, who had not experienced the horror of war against the natural enemy, that was a revelation that would have shaken the ground beneath their feet.

But still they had come. Even though taking the step now required even more courage than before.

He supposed he could go for the easy way out and assume that the people who were here, the ones who hadn't been made behind, that is, had a reason like his own to keep going.

That the ones he was seeing unfolding around the academy weren't children drunk on words like ideals or patriotism.

That would be for the best. People who were prepared, who really knew what they were getting into.

But there were too many of them to be all like that.

Unfortunately, he was sure that a good portion of them, if not most, were naive children.

In fact, those who had experienced the horror of war in their flesh....

They had more reason to stay at home and devote themselves to anything else than to choose a life where they would have to throw themselves into the same hell they had crawled out of, as in a twisted replication of birth, over and over again.

That he had to admit. Although he had come here anyway, he believed that was the most correct and reasonable answer.

For those elusive creatures called "normal people."

The test?

What was the test?

Well, it was different, as always when one was held. And much softer, even leaving aside that they weren't going to be attacked.

Surely this was because the board didn't want to scare potential students before they got anywhere.

They were going back and forth on....

He wasn't sure. From so far away, he couldn't hear the explanation, but he thought it was some sort of scavenger hunt.

Not a fight or some other devilishly complicated, devilishly deadly obstacle course.

After this, would they really be prepared for what awaited them?

Would they really have proven they belonged here?

No. He supposed not, and the teachers knew better than he did. But they would mold them in the weeks and months to come, like clay, trying to make them useful. Turn them into a soldier.

Like the three of them.

They had already turned into soldiers. Even Amy, who, on the first night, or the second, had woken up screaming, had evidenced the attitude for it from the beginning.

She'd gotten over it. Sort of. Sometimes she still woke up bathed in sweat, coming out of a nightmare, but the important thing was that she was working on it and it didn't have the power over her that it had before. She was succeeding.

And, if nothing else, a few days after the attack she had thrown herself into the hell that had made her shriek like she was being killed just remembering it again.

For him.

For Christina, for the whole team.

As was fitting for a soldier.

But, these people... Most of them most certainly were children. And he couldn't help but feel a certain disdain.

And that they didn't... That they didn't deserve it. To be in the same place as them, without having had to fight half as hard as they did. Without having had to sacrifice anything.

It was probably a myopic and arrogant perspective.

Eren had no idea what things those boys and girls had gone through. For all he knew, in the crowd there could easily be many kids like him.

Kids who had lost everything in the war and had continued to crawl forward like living corpses. Looking for something.

"It's getting going," Christina said, and there was something in her voice. "It's all starting, at last. There are the people we're going to have to learn with."

"The people we're going to have to kill next to. They may die," Amy said.

"Nobody's going to die." Desmond put a hand on each girl's shoulder. "I swear. No matter how many bullets I have to take for you girls…"

Christina nudged him.

"No, Desmond. No way. No one's gonna die. No one's going to die. -Yeah. That's precisely why you take care of yourself too."

"That," Amy added, "but who says you have to take the bullet for someone? I'd do it too."

But I'd come back to life later, probably, was what he wanted to say.

But Eren stayed silent.

Because the sentiment in their answers had left him speechless and that was, after all, the most important thing.

"What did I just say?" Christina asked rhetorically. "We're in this together. And we'll get to the end together, no matter what. Okay?"

"Whatever you say... boss."

"Exactly."

Desmond pulled them both into an embrace that caught them by surprise. But they didn't complain. They leaned against him, which you could say was hugging back, even though they didn't move their arms.

Those heartbeats... Were they his? Christina's? Amy's?

And those slight tremors he felt all over his body, as if he were being rocked, whose were they?

It didn't matter. That was the conclusion he came to.

It didn't matter in the least.

Since there was no difference. The three of them were one, at this moment. Or should I say all four? There was a second heart beating inside his chest, after all.

"We're in this together... and no matter what happens, we'll get to the end together."