Eren Smith's footsteps echoed through the narrow, bustling streets of Tokyo Japan, a stark contrast to the silent corridors he once roamed as a special military sergeant. The city's vibrant pulse was a cacophony of life, a life he had chosen after leaving the structured confines of the United States military. Eren, with his head smooth from alopecia, had found a peculiar comfort in the anonymity that the crowded city offered.
His apartment, nestled in the heart of the urban jungle, was a sanctuary for his small family. The laughter of his girlfriend and the gurgling babble of his infant daughter were the melodies that soothed his battle-hardened soul. They were the reason he had traded his rifle for a baby carrier, the reason every sunrise held promise.
On that fateful day, the mundane act of buying groceries was interrupted by a premonition that sent shivers down his spine. The air felt heavier as he approached his home, the plastic bags of produce weighing him down like a harbinger of doom. The door, usually ajar with the sounds of domesticity, was eerily silent.
Pushing it open, time slowed to a crawl. The scene before him was a grotesque still life—a tableau of horror that would haunt him forever. His girlfriend and baby girl lay motionless, their lives stolen by an unknown assailant. The cruel finality of the scene was a stark departure from the life he had known, a life now irreparably shattered.
The crime scene in Eren Smith's apartment was a harrowing sight, a stark departure from the warmth and love that once filled the space. The living room, where his family spent countless hours creating memories, was now a silent witness to an unspeakable act.
The walls, once adorned with pictures of smiling faces and captured laughter, were splattered with droplets of blood, painting a grim picture of the struggle that took place. The couch, where they had cuddled under blankets on lazy Sundays, was overturned, its cushions strewn across the floor, soaked in crimson.
In the center of the room lay the bodies. His girlfriend, her eyes forever closed, had fallen near the coffee table, a look of shock frozen on her face. The remnants of their last meal together were scattered around her, the table shattered, as if in a final act of defiance against the violence that had invaded their home.
Beside her, wrapped in the blanket that had once swaddled her in warmth, was the tiny form of their daughter. The mobile that hung above her crib, which had danced with colorful animals and played soft lullabies, was silent, its cheerful tune replaced by the sound of Eren's heart-shattering.
The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, mingling with the faint aroma of his girlfriend's perfume, a haunting reminder of life amidst the stillness of death. The floor was littered with shards of glass, remnants of a life that was, and the innocence that was stolen.
Eren's groceries, a bag of mundane normalcy, lay abandoned by the door, the contents spilled out as if in a desperate attempt to escape the scene. The contrast between the everyday items and the chaos around them was a poignant reminder of how quickly life can turn to darkness.
This was a crime scene that spoke volumes of the brutality of the act, the suddenness of the tragedy, and the depth of the loss. It was a scene that would propel Eren Smith on a path of vengeance, seeking justice for the two souls who were taken from him far too soon.
As the sirens wailed in the distance, Eren's mind raced with questions, with fury, with sorrow. But above all, it whispered a vow of retribution. The soldier within him had been reawakened, not for war, but for justice—for the two souls whose futures had been mercilessly ripped away.
And so begins the tale of Eren Smith, a man on the precipice of an abyss, staring into the darkness, ready to plunge into its depths for the sake of salvation.