Chapter Text
Eren Jeager was a curious person. Many people of the 104th cadets could confirm that with different reasons per person. If you were to ask Connie or Sasha, they would talk about his rants. Ymir and Christa would say it was his creepy confidence. Jean would list everything mentioned and more. Even one of his best friends, Armin, would say he was somewhat of a maniac. Everyone knew something was wrong with that kid. Something not even Mikasa knew. Perhaps himself included.
When Eren and Jean fought, nobody but Mikasa could pull them apart. Unfortunately, that day in the mess hall, Mikasa was pulled into helping clean the training grounds. “Hey, Suicidal Maniac! Why don’t you get your filthy hands away from me and choke on your godforsaken food already?” Jean yelled as he threw a punch at Eren’s chest. “My filthy hands? Get your untrimmed hooves away as well! Instructor Shadis said no animals in the barracks and the mess hall,” retorted Eren, having just blocked Jean’s stomach punch. Everyone else in the mess hall backed up in the corner furthest from the dueling pair and started betting on who would win. Eren was about to kick the leg before the mess hall doors flew open. Eren froze, hoping it was not any of the staff; however, it was Mikasa. The raven-haired girl stood in the doorway witnessing the sight in front of her.
Jean saw the distraction as a chance since he started to fumble his hands on the table next to him. His eyes were glued on the tension between Mikasa and Eren to monitor if Eren was going to turn his attention back to him. Eren didn’t show any signs of unfocusing on Mikasa so Jean grabbed the first utensil on the table and shoved it into the other’s shoulder.
Jean expected the utensil to dig into Eren’s skin, not go through. Jean realized the thing he thought to be a spoon was a knife. The knife went through from the back and in a direction that should have nicked a bone. The end of the weapon was peeking out from the front of his shoulder. Eren screamed, pushing Jean off of him and falling backward. Everyone froze. “What the hell, Jean!” Eren stared at the utensil inside of his skin. It wasn’t the worst of physical pains he felt in his life, but the worst in a while. Mikasa rushed to Eren’s side as the blood gushed out and stained his clothes. “Jean! Were the punches not enough for you?” Mikasa yelled as she barked orders at Armin for supplies. “I thought- I thought it was a spoon-” Eren cut him off, “A spoon? How do you mistake a knife for a spoon you buffoon!” Jean would normally yell back, but the looks of some of the others told him not to. He retreated to the kitchen in hopes of a clean rag.
Mikasa ran after Jean, yelling at him. Eren watched as the other’s attention turned to the pair in the kitchen. Eren needed a way to pull out the knife, but Mikasa or Armin might also start yelling at him. ‘At least it was my shoulder and not a leg,’ he thought. He slipped out of the mess hall and ran for an abandoned area. After running for half a minute, Eren plopped down against a tree. His father knew how reckless his son was, so it was natural for him to teach him about these things. While his younger self was mortified for days, he was grateful for that lesson.
His father’s voice rang out in his head as he followed the instructions. The knife was finally out and dropped into the bloody dirt below. Eren’s second priority was to stop the bleeding. As he turned his head, he felt his face hit with gas. Eren closed his eyes, faced the other way, and waited until the presence of the gas was gone. Eren’s eyes widened as he saw the wound, or more appropriately the lack of a wound. Eren grazed his hands over the wound and nothing felt out of the ordinary. “Eren! There you are,” a voice called out. It sounded relieved and angry at the same time. Eren turned to the source and saw an angry Mikasa with a scared Armin and Jean in tow. Mikasa pounced, placing one rough hand on his ‘only’ good shoulder. “Where’s the wound, Eren.” Mikasa looked at the other shoulder, only to see nothing. “Mikasa, there is no wound! Look, nothing.” Eren looked frantic and was starting to tear up. Jean would have said something about it being blackmail material but he was too scared to say so. Mikasa crouched down to Eren and looked at both of his shoulders. Nothing was there at all.
Everyone in the mess hall at that time saw the knife impale Eren and the blood that came along with it. So when Eren walked into the mess hall the next day, he was swarmed with questions. “Wouldn’t that have taken you to the medic?” “Shouldn’t you have one or two days off of practice?” “How are you so calm?” Eren tried to tune out the questions until he thought of a source of payback. “Why don’t you ask Kirstein over there? He should know the events of that day unless his horse brain is too occupied with that carrot on his plate.” Eren suggested. As much as fun it was to mess with Jean, he still had questions. Eventually, the signal for the lineup rang and everyone filed out.
Eren was underwhelmed when Instructor Shadis talked about that day’s training. ‘Running? Why would we need to run from the Titans?’ Eren sulked. Everyone ran down a path creating a lively rhythm. As he ran, he heard someone approaching him. “Eren.” “What do you need, Horse-Face?” Eren looked straightforward. Jean ran next to him as he tried to communicate. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was just revenge driven at the time, and-” “If Mikasa or Armin forced you to say this, then wander off. I don’t need any fake apologies at the moment.” Eren continued running and building up his pace. Jean watched Eren run off to the front of the group. Jean watched as Eren’s arm moved without difficulty, something that wouldn’t happen if a bread knife had gone straight through his skin less than ten hours ago.
Mikasa worried about Eren. One minute, he’s in pain due to Jean’s idiotic thinking and next, he’s going insane by denying that the knife hadn’t done too much damage. Everyone witnessed blood seep from the wound onto the mess hall floor. Armin even saw the stain during breakfast. Eren didn’t even ask for help and was instead prompted to pull the knife out himself. She knew he was the son of a prestigious doctor, but that didn’t mean his knowledge was passed down to him.
Eren was curious about the wound. During the run, he scraped his hands badly. At some point, it was bleeding and expelling steam. The next, it was all gone. Was he going insane? If he was, he decided to blame it on Jean. He pushed the thoughts away and forced a mindest he was quite familiar with.