Chapter Text
You stood in the shadow of the towering walls, the morning sun beating down on the training ground like an unrelenting hellfire unwilling to burn out. Sweat dripped from your brow, the weight of the cadet uniform heavy and sticky on your skin as you tried to catch your breath. You had never asked for this, to be part of this strict training regime set out by the Marleyan military, but your choices in life were far and few with you stuck as an Elidian. With nothing but the four walls of your house and a handful of clothes cluttering in your shared dresser with your mom, pursuing the life of a cadet should have been a blessing. You had access to three meals, running water, and a chance to elevate your position in life. Still…this life was already proving to be far more brutal than you had imagined. But you were determined to make it. If not for yourself, then at least for your mother.
Your eyes catch movement at the center of the yard. A handful of other recruits cross the yellow dirt, all but one confident in their strides: Reiner Braun. Your eyes narrowed at him. Aside from you, no other recruit warranted heavy scrutiny or doubt. He wasn’t like the quiet Bertholdt, whose shoulders stayed high despite his furtive glances or isolated Annie, who clung to the shadows and deterred anyone who dared to get close; nor was he similar to Pieck, easygoing but confident in her strides. And he definitely wasn’t like the Galliard brothers, who stood imposingly at the front - picturesque statues of the ideal soldier. He was like you - wary, back-hunched, and weak. Yet compared to him, you were - would - always be the weaker one. They were going to cull you from the herd soon - you just didn’t know when.
Reiner was the first to notice you, haunted in your ruminations, his gaze flicking over to where you were still panting, trying to get your bearings. His eyes narrowed slightly—like he's sizing you up as well—but then he offered a nod, a faint sign of respect, or perhaps just acknowledgment. He doesn’t offer anything else, but the weight of his presence, as it sauntered past you, is momentous - resolute. You had categorized him as weak, but he carried his own burdens and desires that motivated him to continue on.
Porco lagged behind the group as they made their way past you, a bystander in the grand scheme of Marley’s plans, his eyes sharpened as they took in your disheveled appearance and the pitiful ember burning behind your eyes. For a moment, you wondered what held him there - if it was just curiosity or something more. Perhaps he was every bit of a Marleyan in the way he regarded those below him, and was hoping to swing the scythe across your threadbare chance at becoming smoothing more.
Although, you are proven wrong. The words that tumbled out of his mouth, abrupt and assured in the way that can only be intrinsic to him, crashed down on you like frigid ocean waves. “ You’re pushing yourself too hard.” Why did he care? If anything, you were but a small blight pathetically hacking at his chances at becoming a titan candidate.
You blinked, obviously caught offguard. "I—what?"
“Don’t burn out before the selection,” he continued, eyes not exactly focused on you. Like you weren’t the wasted effort of a drawn out conversation. You gritted your teeth, fists forming and trembling at your sides. You knew you were weak. You knew that it was a mercy that the Marleyan soldiers assessing you on a daily basis hadn’t pulled you out of the candidacy list yet. But to be ridiculed by a fellow Eldian? Especially by someone like Porco, whose soul burned too brightly, overshadowing your own will and desires? It brought shame to your cheeks.
Marcel, having noted the absence of his brother, quietly jogged back to join you two, his eyes calculating and undiscernible against the heat of the day. “Are you coming?" Your eyes averted from his, feeling like the weight of the two brothers’ attention on you would shrink you into nothing more but dust and ashes.
Porco clicked his tongue against his cheek, a sound that momentarily grabbed your attention, before he pivoted to face his brother. “‘M coming…” he replied, moving to push his brother away from you.
Attention abated, you finally found the right amount of space to breathe again before his passing words steal your air once more. "Just a thought ," he murmured before following his brother, leaving you standing there with a strange, empty feeling. Their footsteps have faded, gone to run through a new drill, but the deed - whatever it was - had been done. You weren’t like them, and you never would be.
Not yet, at least.
You estimated that you had a few more minutes to yourself before the drill sergeants sought you out. A few minutes for a few to scrounge up whatever little belief you had left in yourself and purge Porco’s uncanny words out of your head. It wasn’t enough, nothing was never enough anymore, but you basked in that little reprieve.
You turned back towards your fellow cadets, pushing the deleterious thoughts completely out of your head. But it was harder than you had expected it would be, with the weight of the upcoming selection looming over everyone - you especially. Because for all your effort, for all the hours, blood, sweat, and tears you have poured into this program, it would never be enough. Deep down, you knew you weren’t going to make it.
Porco’s words lingered, uninvited, like an echo you couldn’t silence: a bitter reminder that no matter how hard you pushed, it would never be enough.