Chapter Text
Yoon Keeho didn’t have very clear childhood memories; there were small fragments that seemed to have been completely erased, and he didn’t understand why. However, there were memories that would unexpectedly surface in his dreams—memories he thought he’d never see again because of the void they left behind when they ended. One of his favorite memories was of a winter afternoon when his grandmother was telling him the legend of the Titans while Keeho watched through the window as the grass in the yard began to disappear beneath the whitish snow and the snowflakes decorated the pine trees in the forest; his grandmother’s voice felt distant in his memory, but he could still feel the warmth of her hands stroking his hair to lull him to sleep.
“Do you know why adults never let children go into the forest alone at night?” his grandmother asked as she ran her fingers through young Keeho’s hair.
The little boy shook his head innocently.
“Because they say that, many centuries ago, when the world was younger, creatures as tall as the trees roamed these lands. They were so big they could devour a person in a single bite,” said the elderly woman.
Keeho trembled at this, but he loved listening to his grandmother so much that he never complained.
“So no one could stop them?” he asked in a childlike voice.
The woman was silent for a few seconds, as if searching through old memories before answering.
“It’s said that there were some warriors who could fight them. Brave people who weren’t afraid of them—they defeated them with a strength that was impressive to witness.
“And did they win?”
The grandmother smiled, though there was a certain melancholy in her eyes.
“If they really existed… I suppose so. After all, today only the stories remain. Although… Some stories aren’t meant to scare us; they exist so we’ll know how to recognize the danger when it returns.”
The little boy looked at her in confusion, and his grandmother smiled gently, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. He closed his eyes, savoring the gentle touch of his grandmother’s lips.
For a moment, everything remained calm. Suddenly, the air began to feel heavier. The warmth of those hands vanished, and he opened his eyes. The snow-covered forest began to melt away as if the wind were sweeping it away before his eyes. An unbearable pressure squeezed his chest. He tried to breathe, but no air came. He opened his mouth desperately, though all he managed to do was expel the little oxygen left in his lungs. His hands flailed clumsily, trying to find a way out amid the darkness that enveloped him.
Keeho woke up with a start, gasping for breath. The sound of the news made him frown and blink as his eyes adjusted to the morning light; his breathing was still ragged. A vague memory of his dream lingered in his mind; his chest felt heavy, and his sleepy eyes turned lazily toward the television he’d forgotten to turn off before falling asleep. His living room was completely silent except for the clamor coming from the TV; on the screen, the words “BREAKING NEWS” were displayed in large red letters, along with images that sent a chill down his spine.
Sleep completely fled his body as if he’d been slapped in the face; he hurried to find the remote control with trembling hands, nearly dropping it before he managed to turn up the TV’s volume. The images took his breath away.
No.
It couldn’t be. It’s impossible.
The footage was shaky, as if the cameraman could barely hold the camera steady. It was barely possible to make out those enormous humanoid figures. Their bodies, grotesque and disproportionate, towered over the town’s houses, and every step they took made the ground tremble.
“Creatures as tall as trees…” he murmured, unconsciously repeating his grandmother’s words.
He felt a chill run down his spine. He swallowed hard without taking his eyes off the screen. It had to be a movie. Some kind of hoax. A carefully planned attack.
He shook his head unconsciously as he reached for the remote that had slipped from his hands at some point, then changed the channel to make sure he was really watching the news. He pressed the button twice. This time the presenter's face reappeared on the screen; he changed the channel again, hoping to see something different. Nothing had changed. It was indeed the news—in fact, every channel was showing the same thing.
The anchor’s voice no longer mattered to the young man. The legend his grandmother had used to scare him as a child was real. As real as the trembling in his hands. As real as the snow that, at that very moment, must be falling on his grandmother’s grave.
He turned his gaze toward the window. The snow had completely blanketed the pine trees in the forest with a thick white layer, a world apart from the chaos shown on television.
The newswoman's voice forced him to look back at the screen.
“Information remains limited. The images you are seeing on screen are from the town of Steinburg, where, according to initial reports, these creatures appeared just a few minutes ago, leaving a level of destruction unprecedented in this small southern town.”
Keeho stared at the screen in bewilderment as the presenter spoke; the aerial footage showed what had once been Steinburg. The helicopter could barely stay steady, resulting in blurry images. Amid the columns of smoke, one could make out homes reduced to rubble and streets covered in dust. The helicopter seemed to descend a few more meters to get better footage. The creatures roamed there as if it were their territory, as if the place belonged to them. They chased the desperate residents through the ruins, as the people stumbled over one another in a futile attempt to escape. Even through the screen, you could feel the cameraman’s panic.
“It can’t be… i-it has to be a lie,” he repeated in disbelief.
The phone startled him. He quickly glanced at the phone hanging on the wall and stood up, feeling his legs heavy and shaky. As soon as he picked up the receiver, he recognized the shrill voice coming from the phone.
“Are you watching the news!?”
It was Intak, his best and only friend. The panic in his voice was enough to send another chill down his spine. He turned his head toward the TV, stretching the phone cord to its limit to catch a glimpse of the screen. The town was still in flames.
“Y-yes, I’m watching it right now…” he replied.
Suddenly, the broadcast became chaotic. The image began to shake violently until one of the cameramen appeared on screen to steady the camera.
It all happened so fast.
A giant hand struck the helicopter’s cockpit, cutting off the broadcast.
For a split second, the screen froze on the face of one of those creatures. It was smiling in a disturbing way, as if this were fun, as if eating humans were an exorbitant pleasure.
Everything fell silent.
“It can’t be…” Intak murmured on the other end of the line. “What are those things!?”
But Keeho really didn’t know what to say; this couldn’t be real, he’d just dreamed about those things. Suddenly, his grandmother’s words came back to him with overwhelming clarity.
“I think…”
Even he couldn’t believe what he was about to say.
“I think they’re the ones from the legend… the Titans,” he replied when he managed to form a sentence.
“What are you talking about? T-the ones from the legend? But… it can’t be… it’s a legend, it’s fantasy. It’s not real!” Intak’s ragged breathing seeped into every word. Keeho could sense the fear in his voice even though they weren’t in the same place; it was enough to know that Intak was just as terrified as he was—maybe even more so. Keeho bit his lip, tightening his grip on the phone.
“They’re real! Look at your TV! He just smashed a helicopter with his hand! HIS HAND!”
Keeho’s breathing was starting to quicken. This was all a dream—a nightmare. It had to be. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had one about the Titans. As a child, after hearing those stories, he’d always end up begging his grandmother not to leave the room until he fell asleep.
He hadn’t felt that fear again until now.
He looked around; he was alone, with no one to turn to. He hadn’t lived with his parents for years now. Shit. Steinburg was far away—quite far from him and even farther from his parents. But that didn’t ease the worry he felt.
“Intak… I-I have to hang up,” he murmured, and his friend’s breath caught.
“C-can I come to your apartment?” he asked, pleadingly, and the burgundy-haired boy didn’t have the heart to say no.
“Yeah… sure,” he replied, and that was enough for his friend to hang up.
He hung up the phone with a sigh, his mind processing what he’d just seen. A reporter was now on the screen from the studio, but Keeho couldn’t hear her voice because he was trying to recall his grandmother’s words more clearly. He shook his head when nothing new came to mind. Finally, he moved away from the wall to sit back down on the couch and pay attention to what they were saying on the news.
“At this time, we do not have sufficient information. We do not know the origin of these creatures, but what we are certain of is that these individuals pose a major threat to our nation”—the reporter pauses, discreetly bringing a hand to her earpiece as she listens to new instructions. The camera is now focused solely on her face. “If you are in the surrounding towns, evacuate as quickly as possible; do not take any unnecessary items. Leave the area via the nearest route and follow the authorities’ instructions at all times. Your life must be your only priority.”
The studio falls silent for a few seconds. The anchor listens through her earpiece again, and her expression changes; for the first time since the broadcast began, she seems taken aback.
“Several survivors… and now the authorities as well, are using the same name to refer to these creatures. A name that many will recognize from ancient tales and folk legends…”
“Titans”
It wasn't a dream.
It never had been.
進撃の巨人
November 25, 1989.
The Steinburg Incident.