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Chapter 6 (The Ice Queen), and Chapter 7 (A Dinner of Joy) is already available for Patrons.
I am Sorry
I am Sorry
I am Sorry
His hands trembling uncontrollably, he couldn't help but let out a gut-wrenching sob as the pungent scent of blood and rot enveloped his nose, leaving him feeling nauseous and dizzy. His eyes fixated on the blood that had dried and caked around his fingers. As he tried to compose himself and fight back the urge to vomit, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt deep in his gut. He knew he should be repulsed by the sight of his own hands, but all he could think about was the growling of his empty stomach, reminding him of his own hunger. As he tried to catch his breath, gasping and wheezing, the weight of his emotions became too much to bear, and tears streamed down his face in torrents, blurring his vision and soaking his cheeks. He continued to sob uncontrollably. His body was wracked with deep, shuddering sobs that shook him to the core. His throat felt raw and scratchy, his eyes burning with the salt of his tears. He couldn't stop.
"I am Sorry. I'm Sorry." Jaime spoke with a hoarse voice. He picked up the piece of meat, feeling the warm flesh against his fingers as they tightened around it. Drawing it closer to his face, he opened his jaw wide, savoring the anticipation of the flavors to come. As he bit down, he felt the rush of juices and blood flowing over his tongue, the taste of the raw meat exploding in his mouth with each chew. He closed his eyes as the meat slid down his throat.
His cheeks, now hollow and sunken, resembled those of a skull, while his arms hung limply at his sides, thin as sticks. The outline of his ribs were fully visible, covered by a thin layer of skin that seemed to cling to his emaciated frame. Every movement he made felt like a struggle, as if an invisible force weighed his body down. His tongue felt dry and heavy, like a piece of brick in his mouth, and his stomach growled in protest, threatening to fall off at any moment. It had been so long since he had eaten anything that he had lost count of the days - was it three weeks? A month? Jaime couldn't say for sure. He knew what he was eating, but he couldn't stop. He was Too HUNGRY...
Jaime was jolted awake from his slumber. His body was drenched in a cold sweat that left him gasping for air. As he slowly opened his eyes, he realized he was surrounded by darkness, and his heart began to race with anxiety. Looking around the barely lit room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over him as the shadows played tricks on his mind, almost reminding him of his old home. However, as he listened to the loud snoring of his fellow companions, he breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he wasn't back in that place of torment and despair. The feeling of safety and security washed over him as if a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders as he rubbed his forehead, trying to get rid of his dreams.
Suddenly what he had dreamed returned back to him in full force. Jaime's stomach churned and twisted unpleasantly, signaling to him that his food was about to make a reappearance. He quickly realized it, and without hesitation, he darted outside, his feet slamming against the wooded floor as he ran. The cool night air hit his face, providing a sense of relief as he tried to keep nausea at bay. He could feel his insides convulsing as he tried to hold it in, but it was no use - everything he had consumed the previous night was coming back up, and it was coming up fast. Jaime's eyes bulged, his face turning a shade of green as he hurled his guts onto the grass outside.
After what felt like an eternity, intense nausea subsided, and he was left gasping for air, coughing uncontrollably. His eyes were tightly shut as he tried to regain his composure, but soon enough, he opened them, looking up at the vast expanse of blue sky above him. With shaking hands, he reached for a napkin and gingerly wiped his mouth and lips clean, taking deep breaths in and out to calm his racing heart. The world around him seemed to spin for a moment, but eventually, Jaime managed to steady himself, standing up straight and taking a few tentative steps forward.
Jaime stood alone in the midst of the Training Corps camp, the only sound being the gentle rustle of the leaves and the soft swaying of the grass under the cool breeze that was blowing. As the breeze passed by, Jaime's voice was carried away with it as he whispered to no one in particular, "I'm sorry." The breeze played with his hair, and he closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of the wind on his face. Jaime's bare feet were planted on the ground, and he could feel the tickling sensation of the grass as it moved with the breeze, the soft blades brushing against his skin. It was as if the world had come to a standstill.
Enjoying the sensation of the wind on his skin, Jaime allowed himself to smile. He still remembered the first time he had walked outside. The sun had almost blinded him. It had taken a whole week for him to get used to it. His mentor told him that for the first day, he should completely avoid looking at the sun. His eyes had barely ever seen the light before. If he did look at the sun, he might go blind or get his eyes heavily injured.
Jaime remembered his skin feeling very warm. Quite often, he felt as if his skin was burning from the sun's heat. After two months, he had finally somehow stabilized, and his mentor had started training him on everything he needed to know about Survival.
As Jaime stepped outside into the crisp night air, he couldn't help but feel a sense of renewal wash over him. The cool breeze gently brushed against his face, invigorating his senses and filling his lungs with a refreshing burst of oxygen. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the feeling of the frigid air tingling against his skin. As he made his way back into the room, the creaking of the wooden door made him wince, fearful of rousing any of the other cadets from their slumber. He moved quietly, with an almost imperceptible gait, hoping to avoid detection. As he turned to face his bed, he couldn't help but notice that two of his comrades, Jean and Marco, were already awake.
"Where were you?" Jean asked first, still lying on his back in the bed; Marco's back was against the bed's headboard. He stretched his legs out and yawned
"I-I wasn't feeling well. I just needed to take some fresh air; Connie has already tainted the air more than a cigarette ever could hope to." Jaime japed, pointing at Connie, who was snoring. As on cue, Connie let out another loud fart that went on for ten seconds, but Connie kept sleeping, not knowing he was suffocating his roommates.
"I swear if someone here lights a match, the whole place will explode," Jean exclaimed with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, his nose wrinkling from the putrid smell of the fart that was still lingering in the air. Marco and Jaime couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter as the latter kicked back and relaxed on his bed, enjoying the sheer absurdity of the situation.
"Jaime, I saw you were drawing outside yesterday," Marco asked with a curious tone as he turned his head to look at his roommate, who was sitting comfortably on his bed. Jaime nodded, but Marco's interest was piqued, and he couldn't help but wonder what his roommate had been working on. "Can I see your drawings?" Jaime shrugged nonchalantly before grabbing his barrel bag. Unzipping it, he pulled out his Art Notebook. He walked up to Marco's bed and sat beside him; Jean leaned closer from his bed, trying to get a good look at his drawings.
"This is the Training Corps," Jaime said, pointing at his latest drawing; Marco's eyes widened in amazement at the level of detail that Jaime had managed to capture in his drawing. The buildings and walls of the Corps were so realistic that it was as if they could step right into the picture. Even Jean couldn't help but let out a low whistle at the sheer talent on display.
"You truly have talent," Jean murmured, not wanting anyone else to hear him praising someone's else skills.
Marco eagerly flipped through the pages of Jaime's sketchbook, his eyes growing wider with each turn. When he reached the page featuring the night sky, Jaime pointed out the constellations he had meticulously drawn, each one sparkling and twinkling against the midnight blue background. As Marco turned to the next page, he was met with a stunning depiction of Wall Sina, complete with every intricate detail Jaime had observed during his many hours spent studying the walls. But it was the drawing of The King's Castle that truly took Marco's breath away. The towering spires and delicate carvings were so lifelike. It was as if Jaime had somehow captured the very essence of the castle on paper. As Marco stared in awe, Jaime couldn't help but grin with pride.
"That's where the King lives?" Jean asked incredulously, with a slightly louder voice than necessary. The amount of noise they were making had woken up a few cadets who were paying attention to what the trio was talking about.
"...Yeh, been there a few times with my mentor's team, the place is beautiful to look at from the outside and inside, but the people there are rotten to the core," Jaime answered with a frown. The way the so-called 'King' would lazy around on the throne the whole day and do nothing, you could swap a corpse with him, and no one would notice any difference.
Jean had heard from Jaime that the Military Police didn't exactly have the best reputation, but that didn't matter. He would join them and live a good life inside the Walls and as far away as possible from the Titans.
Marco could hear the way Jaime spoke of those in the Royal Court, especially for the king, he wondered if he should keep pursuing his dream of serving the king, but he still wanted to join the Military Police.
Silence fell over the trio, and Marco decided to look at more drawings. Flipping through the pages, all drawings were inside the Wall Sina and Wall Rose. One of them was even a drawing of someone standing over Wall Rose. The clear sky was in the background.
"Who is he?" Marco asked, pointing at a man Jaime had drawn.
The man had shoulder-length brown hair with sideburns, a thin beard along his jawline, and piercing gray eyes bordered by crow's feet. Tall and slim, he sustained an athletic build, and despite his age, he looked like someone to be wary of. His attire consisted of a simple white shirt with a black vest overtop, black pants, and a dark fedora hat, and Marco could see he carried a short blade with him.
"That's my mentor," Jaime spoke with a little bit of sour taste in his mouth, something both Jean and Marco picked on. Marco wondered whether he should ask or not about his relationship with his mentor...
"Did something happen between the two of you?" Jean asked. He understood that whatever happened wasn't exactly pleasant. He could see Jaime frown even more but not directed at Jean.
"I..." Jaime began to speak, but the memories of that fateful day came flooding back to him, causing his words to falter. He closed his mouth, feeling the coldness of the room against his scar above his eye, a constant reminder of the life-changing decision he had made. It was the day he had summoned the courage to tell his mentor about his burning desire to join the Survey Corps, the elite group of warriors who risked their lives to protect humanity from the Titans
"So you want to kill Titans just like the brat? That will achieve nothing. You will soon be just another body they will bring back if you are lucky, but remember something." His mentor's words trailed off as he showed Jaime his famous maniac grin.
"You still haven't awakened. Make sure to do that before you go out there." those were his mentor's last words before his knife flashed in the light, its sharp blade glinting menacingly as it arced through the air. Jaime's reflexes kicked in, and he barely managed to dodge the weapon as it sliced just a few inches above his right eye.
Jaime could still feel the burning pain. For a moment, he had been afraid that he would lose his eye. Jaime hung his head, his eyes fixed on the ground as he recounted the words of the old man who had been his mentor for years. "He always wanted more for me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He said that I was wasting my life wanting to explore beyond the wall and that I would never accomplish anything if I didn't stay put."Jaime had always looked up to the old man, who had taught him everything he knew about survival in the harsh, unforgiving world they lived in. But as he grew older, Jaime's thirst for adventure and exploration grew stronger, and he found himself at odds with his mentor's conservative views. Still, Jaime had hoped to make the old man proud of him, to show him that he could achieve great things even if he chose a different path. But their dreams seemed to clash irreconcilably, and they parted ways with heavy hearts.
Marco wondered what he could say to make Jaime feel better since he could see Jaime's sour mood.
"Well, he's not wrong," Jean spoke the words before he could stop them. He felt as if the air suddenly was colder; Jean couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the words that had just escaped his lips. Jaime's reaction was immediate and almost palpable. His gaze turned into a cold, icy stare that seemed to freeze Jean in his tracks.
"Whatever, I achieve something or die like a fool is up to me, I have nothing against you wanting to join The Military Police, and you shouldn't care that I want to get myself killed fighting against the Titans," Jaime spoke with a glare, Jean gulped knowing Jaime had never judged him for wanting to join the Military Police.
Jean's heart was racing as he stumbled over his words, "I-I'm sorry. I apologize. That was stupid of me." Jean apologized quickly, hoping it would fix it; Jaime's silence felt like an eternity. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he let out a deep sigh and extended his hand for a handshake. Jean's relief was palpable as he grasped Jaime's hand firmly, thanking him for his forgiveness.
Marco smiled as he changed the page. His elation was short-lived as the next page presented a puzzling sight. The drawing before him was only halfway complete, with the face of whoever Jaime wanted to draw conspicuously missing.
"Oj, Jaime, what's up with this?" Marco asked curiously, pointing at the drawing; Jaime's eyes widened slightly before grabbing his Art Notebook from Marco's hands but more like snatching it from his hands.
"Forget about it. It's not important."
Jean and Marco looked at each other with uncertainty as Jaime put his Notebook in his barrel bag. Laying on his bed, Jaime closed his eyes, not paying attention to anything around him. His mind quickly went to his mentor as he fell deep into his slumber.
Beer and other forms of alcoholic moisture were often easier to find in the Underground than water, which was more than fine by his mentor. He never liked water much anyway. Samples and portions of water were a lot better spent in making barrels of alcoholic drinks. Most Underground folks better not develop too expensive tastes, after all.
If it were water or tea or some other pricey shit, his mentor would understand the fascination, but it was such an ordinary moment. He was so engaged in whatever philosophical shit he had been babbling on about that it took him several moments to realize the midget had grown completely still (more than usual), sunken eyes staring. Eventually, mouth full of beer and babbling making him choke, his mentor noticed Jaime and nearly choked again at the glint in the brat's eyes.
Staring at the mug.
Uh oh.
"Can I try it?" Jaime asked, sounding for the first time like a baby.
His mentor squinted at him, holding his precious mug close.
"No."
"Why?" He wasn't whining - that'd be truly terrifying, Jaime being the expressionless brat he was - but his eyes didn't falter from the mug. His mentor had the chilling certainty that if he moved the mug from left to right, the midget's eyes would follow. It was scary in its own right, and he didn't want to test it.
"It's my beer. Go get your own."
"I don't have money."
The adult man was the one whining instead of the ten-year-old kid. His mentor groaned and turned around in his seat, calling some drunkard close by.
"Hey, give me ya beer for the kid."
The other man snorted. These eloquent conversations were frequent.
"Go buy yar kid ya own damn beer."
"You're gonna give alcohol to a kid that size?" another nearby man asked, eyes on Jaime and his adorable face and height.
Oh, look, morals. Those weren't so frequent.
Carefully placing his own mug on the table and away from trouble, his mentor stood up, punched the second man, picked up the scattered mug, and threw it dead on the first man's teeth. After the question was dealt with, he straightened his hat back to its place, picked up the intended beer, and returned to his table, shoving the mug into Jaime's hands.
"And don't say I don't give ya anything."
"You could have avoided that if you let me try yours."
"Shut up."
"Or paid for one."
"Shut it. Ya, don't avoid stuff like this. This is how ya make friends and start reputations, so learn it."
Jaime seemed to be wondering where exactly the situation had brought the possibility for friendship, both men grunting and moaning in pain and one less tooth in the mixture, but said nothing further, focusing now back on the source of all the rattle.
Now back to his seat and his beer, his mentor became quite amused by the prospect of Jaime's reaction to drinking his first share of alcohol. The beer in this cow-house bar had the distinct taste of spit, but it'd be more than enough to earn his mentor some laughs.
Jaime was cautious trying it, sipping enough just to wet his lips. His mentor waited to see him spit it out and cough, but Jaime's reaction was to just frown at the foreign taste. Nothing dramatic at all.
"It's bitter."
"Well, what'd ya expect?"
"I thought it was sweet."
"It becomes sweet enough when ya're drunk."
Jaime stared back at him with that cute girlish look, analyzing if his mentor was pranking him, and sipped a bit more. The frown was maintained.
With a strange curiosity to see how Jaime would behave when drunk, his mentor didn't oppose Jaime drinking from there on out, but if he expected foolish behavior, hype, violence, or bawling drunken tears, he didn't really get them. Given his age and size, Jaime did get intoxicated, but it got him more unbalanced or sleepy and a pain in the ass afterward when the hangover gave him headaches. It almost drove his mentor's curiosity away. He wasn't getting any of the more dramatic and comical his mentor wanted to be entertained by.
It would entertain him quite enough to have Jaime win drinking contests with the benefit of his alcoholic resistance, but that came out of Jaime's own volition in some months' time.
Before that started, and only one week after that first taste of beer, his mentor stopped incentivizing the brat.
Being the sly little bastard he was, Jaime pretended to be drunk, like his mentor was hoping (and after a serious amount of drinking - both of them had kept up with each other in a form of silly competition, and his mentor's more than trained stomach and liver were getting slightly dizzy), only to have an excuse to kick him in the shin in the middle of a bar and steal his hat.
The men that caught the scene barked out in laughter, the tiny midget hopping and swirling around a forest of legs in a chant of victory. When his mentor caught up with the apparently very drunk Jaime, a mix of annoyance and satisfaction to see the kid break, he bent over the boy to retrieve the hat resting on the midget's hair nest. And he met Jaime's completely lucid gaze and accomplished little fucking smile.
His mentor didn't know if he wanted to laugh or punch him.
Morning
"Today, you will start your ODM Exercises. Unlike what we did a month ago, this time the training is different. In the forest, we have put mannequins with sandbags around their bodies, mostly around their knees, arm muscles, and most important, nape." Shadis exclaimed to the sea of 250 cadets in front of them, all of them listening intently; Jaime was standing beside Krista, and Ymir, the tall freckles girl, was clearly not paying much attention.
"It doesn't matter how good you are. If you can't work on a team, then you're doomed to fail. This is why you all will be split into teams with five members each. Your goal is to earn as many points as possible. Each sandbag will earn your team a certain amount of points, with the bag around the nape having the most amount of points but is the hardest to cut through. You will start in ten minutes." Shadis shouted before someone gave him a notebook. He started reading the names that would be on which team.
Eventually, he reached Jaime's Team. "Team Wolf will be Jaime, Ymir, Krista Lenz, Sasha Blouse, and Mikasa Ackerman," The moment he said that, Jaime told everyone on his team to gather together. He noticed Mikasa reluctantly walking up to them before deciding to comply.
"Very well, we need to plan before we go inside and fly around like a headless chicken," Jaime whispered, his voice barely audible. Sasha and Krista nodded their agreement while Mikasa remained silent. Ymir appeared to be the most skeptical. Her arms crossed and a furrowed brow.
"What is there to plan, rich shorty?" Jaime gave her a deadpan look for the nickname but didn't interrupt her.
"We just go for the nape of each mannequin we come across," Ymir finished with a casual voice as if the answer was obvious to everyone.
"That's exactly what we shouldn't do," Jaime said right away, much to the surprise of his whole team. They all leaned closer to listen to what he wanted to say.
"If that was the case, then why are we even split up into teams? Remember that Shadis said that alone all of us would die out there before mentioning that points were everything. He said that way so that those that are not good enough will completely ignore the part about 'working together' and go for the nape of every mannequin they see." Jaime explained. This earned a look of understanding from his team, especially Mikasa, whose eyes flickered at someone beyond their team. Jaime followed where her eyes were looking and noticed she was looking at Eren.
"What is your plan then? Captain Shorty?" Ymir's voice was filled with playful mockery as she threw a teasing grin at Jaime. The nickname didn't seem to faze Jaime as he smiled back, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"The plan is simple ugly freckles-"
Ten Minutes Later
"Start!" Shadis exclaimed, using a speaker. Everyone started using their ODM Gear to fly inside the forest; Jaime was in the front, Mikasa was behind him, and Ymir, Krista, and Sasha were in the middle, his violet eyes scanning the forest for any sign as they kept moving using their ODM Gear.
I should be in the front. My eyes are used to the darkness. I will be able to spot the mannequins easily.
As Jaime's eyes scanned the surrounding area, he quickly noticed the first target - a mannequin that was cleverly concealed behind a tall tree. With a quick flick of his finger, he fired his wire and expertly guided the hook to pierce the bark of the tree. As the hook secured its hold, Jaime deftly pressed the trigger on his ODM Gear, feeling the gas surge propel him forward with a burst of speed. The wind roared in his ears as he soared towards his target, his eyes fixed on the mannequin as it slowly came into view.
"Ymir, Krista." He shouted from above at the two girls who launched themselves towards the imposing mannequin, their bodies twisting and turning in the air as they expertly maneuvered their way toward their target. With a swift pull of their blades, they positioned themselves at the knees of the mannequin, ready to strike, while their teammates, Jaime and Sasha, positioned themselves above the shoulders, their eyes fixed on the target.
The sandbags around the knees are the easiest, Krista and Ymir. That's your job, only one strike. We don't have the luxury of trying a second time on the same mannequin.
With a look of determination in their eyes, both pulled the triggers, the gas giving them a speed boost. Their swords raised, as did Sasha and Jaime.
Krista and Ymir swung with all their strength, feeling the satisfying impact of her blade against the sandbag. As Krista pulled back, she noticed the tip of her sword had cut through the bag as cleanly as a knife through butter, a feat that left her feeling elated.
At that moment, Sasha and Jaime swung their own swords, cutting through the sandbags where the muscles would have been.
We both strike at the same time. Therefore we spend as little time as possible and don't waste gas. Mikasa, I heard you were the best when it came to cutting through those bags.
With a war cry, Mikasa completely obliterated the hardest sandbag around the nape of the mannequin. Their team completely destroyed every sandbag of one mannequin. Sasha's face brightened up, but Jaime kept his stoic face. They weren't done yet.
"Everyone back to the position. We should find the next, and good job, everyone." Jaime shouted firmly. Everyone nodded in agreement before quickly following Jaime behind.
As he tried to find the next mannequin, they all heard Sasha. "I heard sounds coming from there." Everyone turned to see where she was pointing at, but none of them could either see or hear anything.
"Potato girl, there's nothing there." Ymir moaned in annoyance as they kept using their gas to go from tree to tree.
Jaime squinted his eyes but couldn't see anything. Either she is wrong, or Sasha is good at hearing things from afar, he concluded before quickly coming to a decision.
I might be wrong, it is a gamble, but so is everything we do, Jaime thought before speaking up but not looking away from the path forward.
"Sasha, I want you to inform us whenever you hear any sounds around us."
"Yes, Captain. I hear there are three groups, two on our left, very close to each other, and one on the far right." Sasha informed them, earning a raised eyebrow from Ymir and Mikasa.
"That means, the next mannequin should be right..." with another burst of gas, they both found a mannequin to their left. This one was smaller, only nine meters tall.
"Same Move, Mikasa. You are with me; Sasha cut the nape." Jaime shouted as they all maneuvered around the mannequin.
With three slices, they cut through the sandbags, except Sasha's slice, which clearly wasn't deep enough, whose eyes widened in horror, seeing that she didn't complete the job.
Ymir's voice was filled with irritation as she exclaimed, "Good Job, butterfingers," to her clumsy companion. The words were laced with a hint of sarcasm, and as she spoke, she couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"We can't stop, as I said. We find another one, Sasha. Next time don't let your fingers tremble." Jaime shouted as they all started looking for a third one; Sasha wondered how he had seen that but quickly dismissed the thought. As they kept moving from tree to tree, Jaime knew they should save as much gas as possible.
"A team is approaching us." Sasha suddenly shouted right as they found another mannequin. Jaime squinted his eyes as the other team came from his's right.
"It's the rich bastard, you son of a bitch." One shouted in anger when his eyes landed on Jaime. Suddenly he shot a hook right next to Jaime, almost piercing his leg.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Frank?" Ymir growled in anger as the foolish cadet started using his gas to advance toward Jaime.
Jaime narrowed his eyes in anger, wondering if he should just cut his cable and let the fool fall down. Perhaps a broken leg would teach him a lesson, but instead of doing that, he quickly noticed that Frank's team's attention was on him and Frank and not on the mannequin.
"Cut the sandbags, Now," Jaime ordered as he shot a cable upwards, dodging the fool, before he started running upwards on the tree, getting higher and higher. His team listened, cutting through the bags, except for the one in the nape; Mikasa had decided to help Sasha instead in case she failed again.
With a burst of speed, Jaime flew towards the nape as his hook pierced the mannequin's eye and, with a single strike, cut through the sandbag completely.
"Yes." Krista cheered before they all started moving away.
Later
After everyone saw the green flare in the sky, they knew the mission was over. Everyone started returning back to the Training Grounds.
Sasha's voice trembled with a hint of fear as she asked Ymir, "Do you think we won?" Her nerves were still frayed from the recent attack by Frank, and she couldn't shake the feeling that danger was still lurking in the shadows. Ymir walked closely beside Krista, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble.
"Maybe, from everyone out there, Armin is the only one who might have done better than us with his team," Jaime spoke, getting confused looks from everyone except Mikasa.
"Why him?" Ymir asked with a furrowed brow, slightly interested.
"When it comes to this kind of exercise, having a good head on your shoulder and knowing how to make plans is the biggest advantage. Even if you're good at killing titans, if you can't keep yourself levelheaded even under pressure, then you're doomed to die screaming. If someone dear to you dies, you shouldn't lose control. If you lose control, then you're dead." Jaime explained as they almost reached the end of the forest.
Sasha and Krista felt a shudder at the thought of dying to Titans.
"Losing someone close is not as easy as you think," Mikasa said with a voice that was devoid of any emotion, her gaze piercing Jaime's soul with a side glare that betrayed the depth of her pain. She knew Jaime was from the interior, where life was simpler, and death was less frequent, and that he could never truly understand the pain of losing someone close. Jaime, on the other hand, felt a tinge of anger at Mikasa's words, as if she was belittling his life and his experiences.
"Ohh really, you really think you're special, and you're the only one that suffered, Princess!" Jaime retorted, glaring at Mikasa. The latter glared back at him.
Jaime was almost tempted to teach her a lesson, he didn't know what kind of life she had, but she had no right to talk about his life that way. Jaime could still feel the smell of blood in his mouth.
"Jaime, we are not here to fight each other. Instructor Shadis won't be happy," Surprisingly, it was Ymir who reminded Jaime instead of Krista. Jaime looked at Ymir before deciding to simply drop the subject and walk away. He didn't want to waste time with Mikasa.
Jaime was seething with anger. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He just wanted to punch something, anything, to release the pent-up frustration that was boiling inside him. But just as he was about to let loose, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Krista, a sweet smile on her lips. Looking into her eyes, he felt all his anger and frustration melt away. She had that effect on him - just being around her made him feel calmer and more centered. He couldn't help but smile back at her, his hand reaching out to grasp hers, much to Ymir's annoyance, who growled to the amusement of Jaime and Krista.
As they landed outside the forest, they noticed many were already there.
Ymir saw Frank being yelled at by the instructor. His whole team was being yelled at by Keith. Ymir almost felt bad for them. Almost. She knew the instructor, and many of his men had been in the forest with them to watch how they did the exercise.
Soon everyone was gathered together. They were split into teams. It took an hour of them just standing there and being scorched by the sun until Shadis finally found enough pity to finish writing whatever he was writing in his notebook. After he finished, he cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention.
"The top three today are Team Snake in third place." Jean's team cheered. Marco was shaking Jean's hand, Bertholdt and Annie were mostly dead silent, and Connie was ecstatic.
"The second place is Team Wolf." Hearing that, Ymir slapped Jaime's shoulder a bit harder than necessary; Sasha was jumping up and down, while Mikasa allowed herself a small smile but looked at Jaime apologetically. Krista hugged Jaime, much to his embarrassment.
"Team Eagle is the first place." The team cheered; Reiner grabbed Armin before raising him in the air as if he weighed nothing. Eren smiled brightly, punching the air in victory, as did Thomas and Mina.
"I'm sorry, everyone if I had cut the nape deep enough. We would have probably won." Sasha said with a downcast look, feeling like she had disappointed her team.
"No worries, Sasha. This exercise taught you to add a bit more strength and not to tremble." Mikasa said reassuringly, the rest of the team nodding along as Ymir slapped Jaime's back. Again!
"Well, shorty, it seems you're not useless after all." Ymir proclaimed before ruffling the top of his head, much to his annoyance.
"I despise you, ugly freckles."