Categories > Anime/Manga > Attack on Titan


by Dorminchu 0 reviews

noun - 1. Recollection, in particular. 2. The remembering of things from a supposed previous existence.

Category: Attack on Titan - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Horror,Sci-fi - Warnings: [!!] [!!!] [V] - Published: 2015-02-12 - 1864 words - Complete

The walls were glowing faintly. Pillars of the same unidentifiable substance were scattered around the chamber. In the center, at the far back, was a elevation of sorts. A set of stairs flanked this formation, carved from the same material.

Historia Reiss walked past her father and Captain Ackerman, to where Eren knelt, slumped upon the plateau. He was still bound. A set of chains hung from his wrists, extended to where they were fastened in the walls.

As she drew closer, he stirred.

"Eren? You're awake?"

That certainly snapped him out of his daze. He tried to speak, but his words were stifled through the gag. Historia nodded encouragingly.

"You're going to be fine." She glanced back at the two men conversing a few feet from them. Eren followed her gaze. "We misunderstood. Father's always been an ally to mankind, and he'll continue to be. It's true Captain Ackerman interfered with the Scouting Regiment's plans, and that Pastor Nicholas and the others men were killed as a result, but..." She looked back at him, willing him to understand. "...Father had no choice but to go along with them."

Presently, Rod came over to her, holding out a hand. She took it, and together they ascended the stairs. The boy tilted his head, trying to keep them in his line of sight.

"What's the matter?" Rod asked. "I was under the impression this was your first time here. You feel a sort of familiarity with this place? I'll tell you now—the phenomenon isn't unusual."

Eren went still. They were right behind him. As she watched, her father lowered a hand and let it hover over their prisoner's back, right below the spot between his shoulders. She glanced nervously at him.

"Uh, Father? Aren't you going to explain it to him?" Rod looked at her.

"That's what I plan to do. But I wanted to try something a little different." He flexed his hand slightly. "We're going to help him along, so to speak. Physical contact should be enough to trigger whatever he's got repressed. You can help me with this part." She regarded her own hand curiously. He smiled. "Watch what I do."

He touched the tips of his fingers to Eren's back, then the flat of his palm. Tentatively, Historia followed suit. She gasped sharply as something thrummed through her fingers. Rod nodded.

"Exactly like that."

Eren tensed violently. The same, unidentifiable force shot through her hand, up her arm and to her mind, like an invisible current. She saw a rapid succession of images, nearly too fast to process; a church set ablaze, a tall, dark haired woman, three other men, all clad in white robes of religious significance. They stood silently in the very same chamber, but they resided during an earlier time. Historia could not explain how she knew.

Then a new memory flooded her consciousness — a Titan-Shifter burst to life with a horrible scream. It reached forward and crushed one of the men. Blood spattered the ground. Cries from the others sounded as the monster burst free of its restraints.

Suddenly, she was back in the chamber. She looked around hurriedly, expecting men and women and Titans, expecting the smell of blood and death. She was alone, save for Eren and her father. Historia realized she was short of breath. A feeling of distinct unease settled in the aftermath of the visions. But her thoughts were interrupted by a curious noise, sharp and panicked. She glanced down.

Eren was trembling, as if in pain. Historia wondered what he saw.







Moonlight filters through the canopy of leaves obscuring the night sky. Stumble into the clearing, panting wildly. Whirl around as if searching for something precious, then, with a start, bolt forward. Trip in effort to flee and fall back, shuddering.

There's the weighted crunch of footsteps. Heavier than mine. Raise an arm in effort to ward off something I cannot see. Adrenaline rushes through my blood.


Voice is a whimper, pitiful to my own ears. I don't like how it sounds.

A figure visible through the undergrowth. Flash of light. Glasses.


Cry out, sprint for one of the larger trees. Hard to see where I'm going. Stumble and crash to the ground, sobbing weakly.


Father approaches me carefully through the dying undergrowth, hands extended. I look around for something to defend myself with. Nothing but flat ground and dead leaves. I keep moving, try to keep the distance between us. But I know there's nowhere to run.

Father is close enough that I can discern his outline with clarity. In desperation, I raise my arms to shield myself.

Get-get away from me!

Fingers dig into my arm and I flinch. He pulls me to my feet, grabs my shoulders and I'm forced to meet his eyes.

Listen to me! I'm showing you a way to the truth!

There is something in his hand. Glinting copper in the moonlight. Breath catches—

You must never let this key out of your sight, do you understand?

The key is pressed into my palm, cord wrapped around clammy fingers. I close my hand around the little piece of metal instinctively. I don't understand. Why is he doing this?

Every time you look at it, remember that you must reach the basement.

He withdraws a syringe from beneath his coat, then a tiny vial. A clear liquid is visible. When he continues, his voice is measured.

The shot will impair your memory. You must reach the basement of our house in Shiganshina. It will show you the way to the truth. Do you understand me?


Look at me, child.

I obey. He is pale. His eyes are bright, wet.

The power I'm entrusting to you will be useful then. When the time is right, their memories will teach you how to use it.

Whose memories?

He raises the needle.

Hold out your arm.

Shrink back, shaking my head. He is imploring.

Do you want to see the world outside of Wall Maria? Do you want to save your friends?

I do. Desperately.

Then you must master this power.

The needle is injected into my arm. I wince.

But it doesn't stop hurting.

Too much.


Jerk back. Leave a spatter of blood and a sharp pain in my wake. Sleeve is torn.

Fall back. The grass pierces my flesh. Silly. Grass is not sharp.

Want to scream. It hurts. It's too hot.

My skin is tingling. Pink. Raw. On my knees. I grab hold of his coat.

Stop. Stop! I plead with him. Make it stop!

Everything is burning. I am ablaze, but there is no fire.

Only steam.

Father is saying something. He is crying. His voice breaks.

And then I hear Them.

I cannot understand Them at first, but They are speaking, too. They drown out everything else. Double up, on all fours, choking back sobs. I just want it to stop.

And They tell me. They tell what I must do to end the pain.

Kill! They cry. KILL!

Light floods my vision, blinding. I know no more.



















——wake up in darkness. Head is splitting. My mouth is dry. Moan weakly. Throat burns when I swallow. Everything burns. The taste of copper is strong in my mouth, sickeningly tepid. I spit out a mouthful of something thin. Open my eyes and see red. Mucus and blood.


Whose blood? Mine? Dunno. There's a gap in my memory. I can't remember anything after the shot.

I want to stop. Never get up again. Just sleep.

Can't. I must find Father.

Thinking makes my head pound. Squeeze my eyes shut again and exhale through clenched teeth.

Become aware of a fleshy obstruction at my back. Push. It doesn't give. Push again. Hear something crack. Not injured. Spit out more blood and grit my teeth. Hands clench on resting place. Hard, like bone. Can't turn around. Push harder. My body screams in protest. A raspy shriek of frustration escapes my throat.


It gives, finally. The unexpected breach sends me reeling up into the world again. Steam invades my nostrils. Feel dizzy from exertion. Shouldn't have yelled. There might be Titans.

The forest is dark. Still nighttime. Stars blink into view through the thin curtain of clouds, pinpricks along the heavens. I try to see, but there's too much steam.

...Steam. Where is it coming from? There's no water.


Voice is hoarse. Hurts to talk, even more to raise my voice. Won't try it again.

My face stings in the cool autumn air. The rest of my body is still hot. I look down at myself.

A carcass. I am imprisoned in a mass of blood and bone and muscle. My arms are trapped within a tangle of wiry sinews. I stare down at the nightmarish vessel in disbelief.

What is this? How did I get here? I don't remember.

But I need to get out. I pull on my arms with all the strength my body can muster.

It takes a little effort, but surprisingly, it's not nearly as difficult to free my arms as it was to break out of this shell. I brace myself against the structure in preparation for another struggle and push one last time.

The rest of my body slides from the prison as if there was nothing holding me. Haul myself from the gory carcass and look around. The hiss of steam intensifies in volume and I look down in shock.

The vessel is disintegrating before my eyes. Flesh and bone blacken and crumble beneath me. I slide down to the waiting earth. Slip and stumble, then catch myself.

Recovering from the impact, the dull pain in my face and neck reasserts its presence. It stings. Like a burn from open flame. I touch my fingers to my cheek.

Grooves. Still slick. Run down my neck and they deepen.

Pull my hand back and see blood. Stare at it. Blink. It's still there. A loud crackling draws my attention and I wheel around.

The mass of blood and flesh and bone. It's a skeleton. Dissolving into ash, even as I watch. Turn away and kick something accidentally. It skitters across the ground a few inches. A glimmer on the dark earth.

Father's glasses. The lens are cracked, singed.

Pick them up. Chest constricts. Dizzy. This is a dream. It has to be. Smell more copper and turn. Hands splay around the earth. Touch something warm. Wet.

My fingers come back slick with new crimson. Muscle. Skin. A few, frayed strands of fabric. Search the whole clearing.

There is no body.

And I remember.


The voices are gone.


My query is greeted with the whispering of the trees in the breeze.

I am alone.

My chest turns to ice. I can't breathe.

Is this the truth Father spoke of? I don't know.

I don't know what to think anymore.

The darkness that threatens to overtake my mind is a blessing. It is the promise of sleep.

I'll see Father again.

And Mother.

Maybe even Armin and Mikasa.

Sleep and never wake.














"Do you remember it now? Your father's sin?"
Sign up to rate and review this story