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Reiner and Bertolt were never close before the warrior program. Kids in the Eldian ghetto were everywhere, and they must have run in different circles growing up. They'd passed by each other before, a familiar face in the crowd, but never anything more. It's not until they meet under the stress of the warrior training program that they began to take notice of each other.
It started the day of the sharpshooting evaluation. Reiner had kept an eye on his neighbor for the duration, how could he not? He could feel each jarring shot coming from the boy's rifle, smell the acrid gunpowder that drifted downwind to him. Time after time, each bang resulted in a mark on the boy’s target, a tight grouping right in the middle. His own target was laughably bare. When the sergeant hoisted up the other boy to announce his victory, Reiner wasn't surprised.
"Damn it..."
Reiner dragged his feet home, inadequate again. Every day he would head out to training and the weekly evaluations, and each day he returned more downtrodden. The other warrior candidates noticed, but only Bertolt acted. After watching Reiner struggling harder every day, desperate for a positive evaluation, for the sergeant to take him by the shoulders and loudly state "Braun, Reiner. PASS,” Bertolt began to wait back for Reiner. He talked to him, smiled at him, extended his hand out for him... and Reiner responded. And when the fateful day came and Reiner was finally chosen as a Warrior, no one besides his mother was as excited for him as Bertolt was.
But there were only six titans available, and seven Warriors to receive their power. Reiner agonized about the next selection process. The constant harassment from Porco, the unending worry that he wouldn’t fulfill his goals… it began to take a toll, and he performed worse and worse. Bertolt knew he needed to snap out of it, after all, they had said they were going to be warriors together. After another abysmal sharpshooting test, he proposed a plan to help Reiner in the best way he could.
One early morning, as the sun just barely began to lighten the sky to the east, Bertolt and Reiner snuck out to the range. Their rifles were large and strapped to their backs, a heavy burden they’d grown used to over the months. The cool air was wet in their noses, and the dew quickly dampened their boots as they skulked down the back, overgrown pathways to avoid the majority of the guards. Bertolt’s pack, softly clanking with each step, was the only evidence that they had passed by. When they arrived at the range, Bertolt opened the bag and pulled out the several tin cans he had carefully taken from the kitchen trash over the week.
Reiner looked at him, the question evident on his face, and Bertolt smiled back. "We're going to practice with these. I think we'd get in trouble if we used the real targets. And the cans are harder to hit anyway so we can focus on your aim more,” Bertolt murmured, voice low, as if he was going to attract more attention than their gunfire will in a few moments.
They walked up together to the targets and gently set out the cans, joking a little as they went. But as they returned to the firing line, Reiner fell silent. They're out here alone, no other prying eyes, but he can't help but feel the familiar pressure building between his shoulder blades, a hammer weighing heavily on his back.
Bertolt noticed. When they arrived back to the line and began to load their rifles with target ammunition, he gently jostled Reiner with his elbow.
"Hey, it's ok, we're here to practice."
Reiner frowned slightly, "I know... let's just get this over with."
He threw himself unceremoniously onto the ground and quickly assumed the prone firing position that had become surprisingly natural. Bertolt knelt down beside him and lowered himself to the ground as well.
"Take a shot, I want to see how you do."
"Ok."
Like countless times before, Reiner carefully lined up his sights and pulled the trigger. The shot fired off, impossibly loud and ringing in the silence of the pre-dawn. They froze for a moment, but no one came running or shouting, and both boys sighed in relief. Reiner looked up to the cans. Not a single one had moved.
"Hmm..." Bertolt was contemplative, and slightly adjusted Reiner's form. They double check his sights, his positioning, and Bertolt motioned for him to try again.
Another shot, the smell of gunpowder strong in his nostrils. But his stomach clenched as he watched the shot whizz past one of the cans, causing it to wobble and threaten to tilt over, but overall untouched.
"Augh, damn it." Reiner dropped position and brought his hand to his forehead. "I don't understand!? I do everything right but it never works!"
Bert gently touched his shoulder. "Hey, Reiner, it's ok, we'll figure this out... here, let me get a little closer and I can see if I notice anything else off. Is that ok?"
Reiner shrugged and nodded, settling back down into firing position. Bertolt shuffled closer, and Reiner tensed slightly at the soft weight of Bertolt's hand pressing on his back. It felt warm, a comforting presence in the cool dawn air.
"Ok, let's try this again, remember what we talked about."
Reiner gave a final nod, pulled the action, and prepared for his shot. Another bang rang out, and again, the cans remained unchanged.
Reiner grimaced, ejected the shell forcefully, and turned to face Bertolt. The other boy was staring back at Reiner, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"You're so tense when you shoot... the action of pulling the trigger is pulling your aim off just slightly. You need to relax, allow your finger to gently pull back until you release the shot." Bertolt made a motion with his hand and a finger gun to illustrate his point.
Reiner looked flatly at him, frustration evident in his voice, "Look, I'm trying, but it's hard to be relaxed when you have to be so focused on hitting the target."
"Reiner... if we're ever shooting in a real battle against the devils, you're going to need to be able to relax your muscles and do this. If you can't hit anything here, how do you expect to do it when you’re under pressure?" Bertolt argued. His tone was exasperated, but not harsh. Even so, his words hit hard and Reiner winced. He’s right, of course. Bertolt’s quiet and reserved, but when he speaks, it's the truth.
Reiner settled back down, preparing for his fourth shot. He's frustrated and can feel the warmth in his cheeks, sweat beginning to film on his brow and back. How was he supposed to stay relaxed? And then there was Bertolt's hand on his back again, followed by a low voice in his ear.
"Look, Reiner, one more thing. When you fire, you need to breathe. Try this... take a big breath in and out."
Reiner, frowning, opened his mouth and inhaled, then exhaled loudly.
He can hear Bertolt's smile, "Ok, that's good, but let's do it softer, and focus on taking that breath in, and then breathing it out nice and slow. And when you're done breathing out.... that's when you shoot."
"Huh, I never thought of that," Reiner mumbled.
"Let's go, big breath in..."
He inhaled through his nose. He could smell the loamy earth they're laying on, the wet grass, the fresh breeze coming in with the dawn. The tin cans are more visible, their dark outlines stark and defiant against the sky, significantly brighter now than when they started. Light yellow and pink streak across above their heads. He can feel a cold drop of sweat run down his chest under his shirt. And again, Bertolt's hand rested on his back between the shoulder blades, warm and strong. Right now, he felt grounded, alive. Somehow, Reiner knew he would never forget this moment.
"...and out."
He exhaled, lined up his sights. The hard wood of the rifle pressed against his cheek, the butt in the crook of his shoulder. Finger ready on the trigger, the metal grip of it cool and rough against his index. At the end of his breath, he held, and with gentle pressure squeezed-
BANG. A can went flying, and Reiner let out a whoop. He turned to Bertolt and to find him smiling. Reiner threw an arm over the other boy and shook him.
"Oh wow, Bertolt, you're a genius!!! I would've never thought about breathing like that!"
Bert's face flushed pink, and Reiner's swore he could feel his heart up in his throat. Bertolt answered, "Hah, well, I'm not that smart.... but thanks, and I knew you could do it. Come on, let's go look at the can and see how well you got it."
Bertolt shrugged off Reiner's arm and they both stand up and jog towards the targets. It doesn't take long to find the can, a shot dead through the center. Reiner grinned, heart fluttering in his chest as Bert turned to him and grabbed his hands to give congratulations. He can feel the warmth flaring back up in his face as they cheer together, excited about a stupid tin can. After a moment of triumphant celebration, they head back to the lineup.
Reiner took a few more shots. With Bertolt’s critique and praise, he found he could hit the target a majority of the time. He was halfway through the cans before he felt confident enough that he could at least show some improvement during training. He sat up and back on his heels, content, before turning to the other boy.
"Hey... Bertolt, thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you. You really saved me." Reiner was beaming like the rising sun and he's not ashamed. The look on Bertolt's face makes it worth it, a flush again on his cheeks, as he smiled back almost as brightly.
"Of course!! We're going to be warriors together, right? We have to be able to count on each other."
Reiner nodded, "Definitely."
He sighed again, feeling a small bit of the burden lifted from between his shoulders. As Bertolt looked back to the cans, tapping his finger on the ground, Reiner had an idea.
"Why don't you show off some of those shooting skills for me? I bet you can't take out those last five cans in five shots."
Bert's gaze returned to Reiner. "Oh?"
"Yeah, come on, ace sharpshooter! Show me your stuff!" Reiner elbowed Bertolt in the shoulder.
Bertolt rolled his eyes and huffed. He sat up, pulled out his own rifle and pointedly loaded it with 5 bullets. Reiner crossed his arms and sat back, a silent, challenging ‘go on’ on his face. As Bertolt lowered himself back to the ground, Reiner noticed what could almost be called a smirk pulling at his lips. Bertolt certainly has confidence in this area and the skills to back it up. Bertolt settled into position, action pulled, hands on the rifle, trigger finger off until the moment he was ready to fire. And then he began.
Each round cracked loud and true through the morning air, followed by the firm clack of the action being pulled, and the shell ejected hot onto the ground with a metallic tink. And each time a tin can disappeared from the lineup, all the way to the last.
Bertolt sat up, proud, and looked to his shocked companion.
"Uh, wow!! That’s incredible! I guess I still have a lot to learn," Reiner stammered, dumbfounded. Bertolt shrugged and smiled as he puts his rifle away.
The boys are silent as they pack up their supplies. They make sure to pick up any stray shells on the ground, along with the tin cans. As the two start their trek back to the ghetto, Reiner stayed close to Bertolt's side, lost in thought. While it was good to improve his marksmanship, there were a limited number of evaluations left. He had to show his improvement elsewhere as well if he wanted to stand a chance of being chosen to receive a titan. And what if he couldn't make it as a warrior, what if he just wasn't cut out for it? He would never be able to see his dad and-
The sensation of Bertolt's warm hand on his shoulder stirred him from his thoughts.
"Reiner, your mind is wandering again."
Reiner sighed, back hunched, "I can't help it, I’m worried. I have to earn a titan… I can’t wait for 13 more years, you know that.”
Bertolt's gripped him harder, pulling at Reiner's shoulder until they stand facing each other. "Reiner... you're stronger than you think. And loyal. You have more resolve than any of us, that has to count for something. If becoming a warrior is something you want, you can achieve it."
Reiner looked down, gaze leveled at their feet. "I sure hope so... but thanks, I'll keep that in mind." He waited until Bertolt moves his hand, and they return to their walk back to the ghetto where the rest of the Eldians are waking up to greet another day.