"I think they are about to call the results, sir." Silas's aide shouted at him, struggling to have his words heard over the people's clamoring. "You think Eren made it to The Ten?" The professor had both his hands folded over his stomach. He eyed the display before him with some concern. Solvane Winchester had risen in his seat and was whispering to the Granville clan head. The professor had hoped earnestly when he recruited Eren to his cause that the boy had his mother's fighting spirit. And his hope was not wasted. In the end, Eren surprised them all, going toe-to-toe with the most talented Awakened in the tournament. When Eren was paired against Gaine, the professor sighed heavily. He had thought the fight was over. He did not even expect Eren to make it past the third stage—the boy had trained in an empty gym, with little or no help, to fight kids who had gotten the best training from the best instructors over the course of their childhoods. But Silas had hoped

Eren stuffed his bloodied battle suit into his duffel. "It is a wonder Gaine's head is still attached to his body." Tiana said over his shoulder. "What?" Eren said. Now that the contests were over, the surge of adrenaline that carried him all day had passed, and he started to feel the pain from all the hits he took more acutely. Silas had warned him. MANNA could heal wounds, but the pain that came with them stayed. Pain always asked to be acknowledged. Awakened or not. The most Eren could think of was getting back to the professor's mansion, finding something warm to pour down his throat before falling face down into his bed. It was no surprise he was not paying any attention. Tiana jabbed her chin in the direction of his hands. "Your knuckles. You scraped the skin right off them." Eren glanced at his hands, and true to her words, he found that the skin there was still patchy, barely healed. "Winchesters are famous for ther hard-headedness. What can I say?" He joked. Ti

At night, the city was a muddy version of itself in daylight. Lampposts cast a sickly yellow glow over the roads as they navigated their way through the labyrinthine streets. "You hungry?" Silas asked from the front of the car. Eren shook his head. Exhaustion had slowly begun to take him, and his eyes struggled to keep up with the changing streets. He was hungry but tired. Too tired to think. Too tired to worry about eating. All he wanted was the softness of his bedsheets and the flora smell of fabric softener. "You sure, kid?" Eren shrugged. "I could eat." He said. Despite all that had happened that day, it was Tiana's parting words to him that stayed with him. ‘Oh Eren, I think your mother would be happier if you just stayed alive.’ The words haunted him. They haunted him because they were the truth. They felt like it at least. Was she not the same woman who talked at length so often about how barbaric the contests were, how small-minded their society had be

Under the haloed light of chandeliers, the professor started Eren on an intensive crash course in manners. Silas drilled him on proper greetings, the art of small talk, and the subtleties of table etiquette. They practiced until Eren’s responses flowed smoothly, his posture straightened, and his smile was so practiced it looked genuine. The night wore on and Eren watched himself transform before his own eyes. Outwardly, at least. Inwardly, it was another matter altogether. He bubbled with frustration. “Did you learn this the way I am learning it?” He blurted while Silas was trying to instruct him on table etiquette. The professor looked up, tilting his head. “What?” “All of this,” Eren swept his hand over the table, the silverware, the cutlery, the finery. It overwhelmed him. “Is it not a little too much for one to learn sharply?” Silas rolled his chair a few feet away from Eren and contemplated the question for a while. “It is not. Also I was already well versed in all

Sid had not felt as human as he did now in a long, long time.He was wearing a navy blue suit with shiny brass buttons, a waistcoat of the same colors and black tie. His hair was slicked back with thin oil and it settled smoothly at his nape. Sid slid his hand over it every now and then for effect. He went through the crowds, stopping to greet an old acquaintance, smiling when he made a new one. He felt tangible, purposeful, like he was just becoming a solid thing after months of being a sliver of nothingness. Perhaps it was the contests, the fact that he had seen his own blood spilled for the first time in years. The sight of one life’s blood outside their body could do that to a man, he had read somewhere, make them see themselves. Added to that, he spent most of his MANNA in the arena so he healed slowly, humanly.A hand stole his arm and he looked sideways to find Tiana clinging to him as if she was drowning in open water and he was a lifeboat.Through clenched teeth and a f