"Armin, you're far too skinny; even the smallest uniform looks huge on you!"
"There's nothing I can do about it…"
"Eren, yours fits perfectly."
"You too, Mikasa."
Eren, Armin, and Mikasa were in the Training Corps hall. Around them, many other recruits were present. Friends clustered together, strangers quickly struck up conversation, and a few sat silently in corners, methodically adjusting their uniforms.
"…Mikasa."
Armin noticed something. He quietly pointed to a figure in the corner. "Mikasa… look, that person… looks like you."
"Huh?"
Mikasa and Eren turned simultaneously, their gazes fixed on the corner. Their eyes widened.
A young boy sat there, pale-faced, with soft, delicate features. Comfortable to look at, yet unlike Mikasa in appearance. What Armin meant was not the facial structure, but the hair and eyes: the boy, like Mikasa, had black hair and black eyes. Even his bone structure was soft and rounded, not angular like most others.
"Really," Eren said, astonished, turning to Mikasa, "he has black hair and black eyes too."
"Yes…"
Mikasa studied the boy. He seemed to notice their attention, raising his eyes to glance at the trio. His brows and eyes shone like stars, but there was no reaction in his expression; he merely looked and lowered his gaze again.
It was no wonder Armin and Eren were surprised—truly black hair and black eyes were extremely rare here. Most people had Armin's green eyes or Eren's golden eyes (gold in the manga, dark green in the anime), or perhaps blue, brown, or even purple. Pure black was uncommon.
In the story, Mikasa's parents were killed because thieves sought to capture black-haired, black-eyed Easterners to sell them. That alone indicates how rare this combination of hair and eye color was on the island.
"Does that guy have no friends?" Eren said. He was about to approach him when a shrill whistle blew.
Whoosh—!
A loud roar followed immediately from outside.
"Assembly!!"
"Assembly, everyone!"
The hall erupted into chaos. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin joined the rush, and soon everyone was outside in the training ground, forming ranks.
Before them stood a bald instructor with a fierce expression, staring them down.
"Now begins the induction ceremony of the 104th Training Corps!"
"I am Keith Shadis, assigned to supervise you lot! Don't expect me to welcome you! At your current level, the most you're fit for is… Titan fodder! You are—"
Fodder.
Lillian, standing at the very end of the third row, listened with a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
He had already endured it.
Keith's words brought back memories of those hellish two days: the splattering blood and severed limbs, the fear of death, betrayal among comrades… and the terror of being devoured by Titans.
All of it was etched into his mind.
"…Worse than beasts!" Keith continued his tirade. "We will spend three years training you worthless sacks of meat! I will cram every technique for fighting Titans into your brains! Three years from now, when you stand before a Titan, will you remain nothing but fodder, or will you become a glorious bulwark defending the king, or perhaps a proud soldier driving Titans from humanity? That is entirely up to you!"
Amid the shouts and scolding, Lillian's eyes shifted slightly as he scanned the crowd for the key figures.
Eren's trio, Sasha, Connie, Marco, and… Annie, Bertholdt, Reiner—the three "Warriors"—and Ymir, the "abnormal" who had stolen a Warrior's power.
Annie seemed to notice his gaze. Her icy blue eyes met his for a moment before both quickly looked away.
"You brat!"
Keith strode up to Armin, glaring. The boy clenched his right fist and struck his chest, responding immediately, "Here!"
"Who are you, brat?"
"Armin Arlert, from Shiganshina District!"
"Is that so? That name sounds stupid! Did your parents name you that?"
"My grandfather did!"
"Arlert, why have you come here?"
"To contribute to humanity's victory!"
"Sounds noble enough… then you can serve as bait for the Titans!"
Keith's method was to baptize these recruits into denying their past selves, stripping them down, and remolding them into competent soldiers.
Yet even in this process, he deliberately avoided certain individuals.
"Some of the kids weren't spoken to?"
"They don't need it. They've already seen hell with their own eyes two years ago," said a passing pair of soldiers.
The middle-aged man glanced at Lillian and hesitated before continuing, "And as for him… that's even more unnecessary."
"Him?"
The younger soldier looked at Lillian. Compared to the others, the black-haired, black-eyed boy was shorter, even smaller than most girls. His development had clearly lagged.
"Yes," the older man nodded.
"What's wrong with him?" the younger asked, puzzled. "He looks so frail."
The older man paused, realization crossing his face. "Ah… I forgot you didn't know."
"Eh?"
"The operation to retake Wall Maria—you should have heard of it."
"Ah… that—" The young soldier's face stiffened, anger flaring in his eyes. He knew just how absurd that operation had been. "I know… two hundred twenty-five thousand people went in, and only seventy-some came back… but what does that have to do with this kid?"
"He is one of those seventy-some."
"What?!"
The middle-aged man stroked his chin, puzzled. "I don't know how he even got involved. Kids didn't have to participate… but yes, he survived and returned."
"That's impossible…" The younger soldier stared at Lillian in disbelief. "So many adults… and yet this one child lived?"
"How he survived is unknown. But even though he was so young, having witnessed the horrors outside the walls… do you think this kind of 'intimidation lecture' would even affect him?"
"…Indeed, it wouldn't."