The titan beast

The first rays of dawn were just beginning to paint the sky in hues of pink and gold as Aaron Mustang's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he lay still, allowing his senses to adjust to the waking world. The rough texture of the woolen blanket against his skin, the faint scent of pine from the wooden beams overhead, the distant chirping of birds greeting the new day – all of it slowly came into focus.

With a soft groan, Aaron pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side of his narrow bed. He was in one of the Survey Corps' bases, located in the southern region of Wall Sina. It was a far cry from the opulent mansions of the inner city, but to Aaron, who had grown up in the squalor of the Underground, it might as well have been a palace.

As he made his way to the small kitchen area, Aaron's mind was already racing with the tasks that lay ahead. Plans needed to be made, strategies formulated, all while keeping a watchful eye on potential traitors within their ranks. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of how far he had come – and how much further he had yet to go.

The kitchen was quiet and empty when Aaron entered. He moved with practiced efficiency, preparing a pot of coffee – a luxury he had come to appreciate since joining the Survey Corps. As the rich aroma began to fill the air, Aaron leaned against the counter, his eyes landing on a knife that lay on the cutting board.

The sight of the blade triggered something in Aaron's mind, and suddenly he was no longer in the Survey Corps kitchen. He was nine years old again, back in the dank, oppressive darkness of the Underground city.

---

The dingy room swam into focus, illuminated only by the flickering light of a single oil lamp. Aaron could feel the rough fabric of his threadbare shirt against his skin, could smell the musty odor of decay that permeated every corner of the Underground.

His mother stood before him, her once-beautiful face gaunt and hollow-eyed, her hand trembling as she pointed a knife at her own children. Aaron's arms were wrapped protectively around his little sister, Rosy, her tiny body shaking with silent sobs.

"Please," his mother pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation. "Take the children. Forgive my debt. They're all I have left to offer."

Behind her stood a man Aaron had never seen before. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a face that seemed carved from stone. His cold eyes swept over Aaron and Rosy with dispassionate calculation.

"The kids?" the man – Marko, Aaron would later learn – said with a dismissive snort. "What use do I have for a couple of half-starved brats? They're not worth the food it would take to fatten them up."

Aaron felt Rosy's fingers dig into his side, could hear her whimpered breaths. He wanted to reassure her, to promise that everything would be alright, but the words stuck in his throat. Even at nine, he knew better than to make promises he couldn't keep.

His mother's face contorted with a mixture of grief and madness. "Then I'll kill them," she hissed, the knife in her hand glinting dangerously in the dim light. "I'll kill them and then myself. You'll get nothing, Marko. Nothing!"

For a long moment, silence reigned in the small room. Aaron could hear his own heart pounding in his ears, could feel every labored breath Rosy took. Then, finally, Marko spoke.

"Fine," he said, his voice as cold and hard as the underground itself. "Take the brats. But this doesn't clear your debt. You still owe me, and I'll collect – one way or another."

Relief and anguish warred on his mother's face. She looked at Aaron, her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn't quite name. "Go," she whispered. "Go with him. Live."

Aaron shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "Mom, no. We can't—"

"You have to!" she screamed, suddenly lunging forward. Her hands, rough and calloused from years of hard labor, shoved him towards Marko. "Go! Before I change my mind!"

Marko's large hand clamped down on Aaron's shoulder, his grip like iron. "Come on, kid," he grunted. "Time to go."

As Marko steered them towards the door, Rosy's tiny voice piped up. "Mister," she said, her wide eyes looking up at Marko with innocent curiosity. "Are you going to be our new papa?"

Marko's face twisted into a grimace. "Don't be stupid, girl," he growled. "I'm not your anything."

"Then... are you going to take care of us?" Aaron asked, hating how small and scared his voice sounded.

To his surprise, Marko's expression softened slightly. "I'll do you one better, kid," he said. "I'm gonna teach you how to take care of yourself. Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach him to fish, he eats for a lifetime."

They walked in silence after that, winding their way through the labyrinthine streets of the Underground. Finally, they came to a stop in front of a dilapidated building. The faded sign above the door read "Mustang's Gym" in peeling paint.

"Listen up," Marko said, turning to face Aaron and Rosy. "This place – the Underground – it's a shithole. People survive here by killing, stealing, lying. But that's not my style. I prefer to let people fight for their lives, entertain the idiots from above ground who come down here for a thrill."

He looked at Aaron, his gaze intense. "Aaron, there are folks who'd teach you how to use a knife, how to pick pockets. But I'm gonna teach you something better. I'm gonna teach you how to use your fists. You'll protect your sister with them, feed yourself with them."

With that, Marko pushed open the door to the gym. Inside, Aaron could see old, dusty punching bags hanging from the ceiling. The air smelled of sweat and leather.

"I'm gonna teach you what saved my life," Marko declared. "Boxing."

Aaron frowned, the unfamiliar word rolling awkwardly off his tongue as he repeated it. "Boxing?"

Marko nodded, a spark of passion lighting up his eyes. "It's the art of hitting without getting hit. A fight where you only use your fists. You'll train, you'll fight. That's all I can offer you."

Aaron looked down at Rosy, her small hand clutched tightly in his. He thought of his mother, of the life they were leaving behind. Then he looked back at Marko and nodded. "I accept."

A grin spread across Marko's face. "Good choice, kid. Oh, one more thing – what's your last name?"

Aaron hesitated, realizing he didn't know. "I... I don't have one, sir. My mother never told me."

Marko stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That won't do. You need a last name for when I start entering you in fights." His eyes flickered to the faded sign above the door, and his grin widened. "I've got it! You can use mine. From now on, you're Mustang. Aaron Mustang."

---

The sharp whistle of the coffee pot yanked Aaron back to the present. He blinked, the memories of the Underground fading like mist in the morning sun. With a shake of his head, he poured himself a cup of the steaming liquid, savoring the rich aroma.

As he took his first sip, the door to the kitchen swung open. Nanaba walked in, her short blonde hair tousled from sleep. She paused when she saw Aaron, surprise evident on her face.

"Captain," she said, stifling a yawn. "You're up early."

Aaron shrugged, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Or maybe the rest of you just sleep too late," he quipped.

Before Nanaba could respond, the door opened again. This time, it was Christa who entered, her blue eyes brightening when she saw Aaron.

"Good morning, Aaron," she said, a soft smile gracing her features.

Nanaba frowned, her brow furrowing in disapproval. "Hey, rookie," she admonished. "He's the leader of our squad. You should call him Captain."

Aaron waved a hand dismissively. "Let it be, Nanaba," he said. "She can call me whatever she likes. Besides, I've told you before – I don't like being called Captain when we're off duty."

Nanaba's frown deepened, but she nodded. "Sorry, Aaron," she mumbled.

Christa, seemingly oblivious to the tension, moved closer to Aaron. "What are you doing up so early?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

Aaron's gaze softened as he looked at her, memories of their stolen kiss flashing through his mind. "Just thinking," he said softly. "About the past, about the future. About how strange the path is that leads us to where we are."

Christa tilted her head, a look of concern crossing her face. "Is everything alright?"

Aaron nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just... remembering where I came from, I guess. Helps me remember why I'm fighting."

The kitchen was bathed in the warm glow of early morning sunlight, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the earthy scent of vegetables as Aaron and Historia worked side by side at the counter. The rhythmic sound of knives against cutting boards filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of cookware.

Nanaba, who had been quietly observing the pair, cleared her throat. "I'm going to feed the horses," she announced, her voice carrying a hint of something that might have been resignation. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode out of the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft thud.

As the sound of Nanaba's footsteps faded, Aaron turned to Historia, a mischievous glint in his green eyes. "Hey," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, "what do you say we make breakfast for the whole squad?"

Historia's eyes widened in surprise, her knife pausing mid-chop. "Really?" she asked, a note of confusion in her voice. "That's... unusually kind of you, Aaron. What's the occasion?"

Aaron shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "No occasion," he said, returning his attention to the vegetables before him. "Just in a good mood, I guess."

Historia studied him for a moment, her blue eyes searching his face as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning in his words. Finally, she nodded, a soft smile gracing her features. "Alright then," she said, her knife resuming its steady rhythm. "Let's do it."

As they worked, a comfortable silence settled between them. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of their coordinated movements – the soft thud of Aaron's knife as he diced potatoes, the gentle scrape of Historia's blade against the cutting board as she sliced carrots.

After a while, Aaron spoke, his voice soft and thoughtful. "You know," he began, his eyes fixed on the task before him, "there was this one time, when I was a kid. I'd just won my first real fight in the Underground. The prize was a sack of vegetables – nothing fancy, mostly root vegetables that could survive the journey down there. But to me... it was like winning all the gold in Wall Sina."

Historia's hands stilled, her eyes wide as she looked at Aaron. "That's... I don't think I've ever heard you talk about your past before," she said softly.

Aaron nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, well... I'm not usually one for looking back. But lately, I've been thinking... if I don't learn from my past, how can I avoid making the same mistakes in the future?"

Historia's expression softened, a look of understanding crossing her face. "That's true," she said. "But you know, Aaron, it's not just about looking back. You have to look forward too."

Aaron's hands paused in their work, his green eyes meeting Historia's blue ones. "I do," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than you know."

A faint blush colored Historia's cheeks as she held Aaron's gaze. "Oh?" she said, her voice equally soft. "And what do you see when you look to the future, Aaron Mustang?"

Aaron was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I see... peace," he said finally. "A small farm, maybe. Some cattle. A quiet life away from all this fighting and death." He paused, his cheeks reddening slightly. "And maybe... a family. A wife. A daughter, even."

Historia's blush deepened, her heart racing in her chest. "A-and," she stammered, "who would you marry in this future of yours?"

Aaron's face flushed an even deeper shade of red. "That's... that's a secret," he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the potato he was dicing.

Before Historia could press further, a new voice cut through the charged atmosphere of the kitchen. "Ugh, gross," Connie groaned from the doorway. "Do you two have to flirt so early in the morning? Some of us are trying to keep our appetites."

Aaron's head snapped up, his embarrassment quickly replaced by his usual cocky grin. "What's the matter, Springer?" he teased. "Jealous?"

Connie scoffed, sauntering into the kitchen with his hands shoved in his pockets. "As if," he retorted. "Although, I've got to say, it's about time you two got your act together. You were the most popular guy and girl in the 104th, after all. All the guys were in love with Christa, and all the girls were swooning over you, Mustang."

Historia's eyes widened in surprise. "What? I didn't know you had admirers, Aaron."

Aaron shrugged, looking genuinely perplexed. "News to me too," he said. "I never noticed any girls showing interest."

Connie rolled his eyes dramatically. "Of course you didn't," he said. "You were too busy being all broody and mysterious. The only girls who weren't into you were Annie, Mikasa, and Sasha."

"And Ymir," Aaron added, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Connie waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, Ymir doesn't count. She's too ugly to be considered a girl."

The words had barely left Connie's mouth when a fist came crashing down on his head. Ymir loomed over him, her face twisted into a scowl. "Who are you calling ugly, you little runt?" she growled.

Connie, rubbing the growing lump on his head, glared up at Ymir. "You, obviously," he shot back. "Who else?"

Ymir's scowl deepened, but before she could retaliate further, Historia stepped between them. "Ymir, please," she said, her voice soft but firm. "We're just making breakfast for everyone. There's no need for fighting."

Ymir's expression softened slightly at Historia's words, but her eyes narrowed as they landed on Aaron. "Oh yeah?" she said, her voice dripping with suspicion. "And why are you always hanging around Mustang, huh? Don't you think it's a bit... inappropriate?"

Historia's cheeks flushed pink, her eyes darting nervously between Aaron and Ymir. "I-it's not like that," she stammered. "We're just... we're friends. Comrades."

Aaron, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and wariness, decided to intervene. "Come on, Ymir," he said, his voice light but with an undercurrent of steel. "Historia can spend time with whoever she wants. Or are you saying you don't trust her judgment?"

Ymir's gaze snapped to Aaron, her eyes blazing with barely suppressed anger. For a moment, the tension in the kitchen was palpable, like the air before a thunderstorm. Then, suddenly, Ymir's shoulders slumped, the fight seeming to drain out of her.

"Whatever," she muttered, turning away. "Just... be careful, Christa. Not everyone has your best interests at heart."

As Ymir stalked out of the kitchen, an awkward silence fell over the remaining occupants. Connie, sensing the shift in mood, cleared his throat. "So, uh... what's for breakfast?" he asked, his voice overly cheerful.

.....

The sun had climbed high in the sky, its harsh light beating down on the Survey Corps base. The air was thick with an oppressive heat, making even the simplest movements feel like a monumental effort. On the rooftop of the main building, three figures stood silhouetted against the bright blue sky, their eyes scanning the horizon with a mix of vigilance and weariness.

Aaron Mustang leaned against the parapet, his green eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun. Beside him, Mike Zacharias stood tall and imposing, his nose twitching occasionally as he scented the air. Nanaba completed the trio, her short blonde hair ruffled by the occasional hot breeze that swept across the rooftop.

"Do you think they'll manage to capture Annie?" Aaron asked, breaking the tense silence that had settled over them.

Mike's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes never leaving the distant horizon. "I hope so," he replied, his voice gruff. "With Levi injured and you and me stuck here babysitting the 104th, everything depends on Erwin's plan and Eren's abilities."

Aaron let out a jaw-cracking yawn, earning him a concerned look from Nanaba. "Everything alright, Captain?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Before Aaron could respond, a commotion from inside the building drew their attention. Through an open window, they could hear the voices of the younger recruits drifting up from the common area below.

"Man, I'm bored out of my mind," Connie's voice whined. "My village is just a few kilometers from here. They should let us visit or something."

Reiner's deeper voice cut in, a note of suspicion evident in his tone. "Doesn't any of this strike you as odd? Why are we in civilian clothes? Why aren't we allowed to train or use our ODM gear? Even Christa, who's officially part of Mustang's squad, is stuck here with us. And have you noticed that all the other soldiers still have their gear? Who exactly are they preparing to fight?"

There was a moment of silence before Connie responded, his voice uncertain. "I dunno... bears maybe?"

Suddenly, Sasha's panicked voice cut through the air. "Guys! I hear giant footsteps!"

Back on the rooftop, Mike's head snapped up, his nostrils flaring. "Titans," he growled, his voice low and intense. "Close."

Aaron was already moving, his eyes glued to the telescope they'd set up earlier. Through the lens, he could see them – nine massive figures lumbering towards them, their grotesque forms unmistakable even at this distance.

"I can take them," Aaron said, his hand already moving to the ODM gear at his hip.

Mike shook his head, placing a restraining hand on Aaron's shoulder. "No. They've breached the wall. We don't know how many more might be out there. We need to evacuate the nearby villages and send word to Erwin."

Aaron's jaw clenched, but he nodded in agreement. Turning to Nanaba, he barked out orders. "Nanaba, tell the recruits to prepare to move out. There's no time for them to gear up. We leave immediately."

Nanaba saluted sharply before disappearing down the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the sudden, tense silence.

Mike turned to a nearby soldier from his squad. "You," he said, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of command. "Get a message to Erwin. Tell him the Titans are here."

As the soldier rushed off to carry out his orders, Aaron let out a heavy sigh. "And here I thought it was going to be a quiet day," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Within minutes, the base was a flurry of activity. Soldiers rushed back and forth, gathering supplies and preparing horses. The recruits from the 104th looked confused and scared, their eyes wide as they tried to make sense of the sudden chaos.

As they mounted their horses and prepared to ride out, Aaron couldn't help but notice the fear in Christa's eyes. She looked small and vulnerable without her ODM gear, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped her horse's reins.

"We'll split into four groups," Mike announced, his voice carrying over the nervous chatter of the soldiers. "Each group will head in a cardinal direction to warn the surrounding villages. Move fast, avoid engagement if possible."

As the groups began to form, Aaron and Mike exchanged a look. They had both noticed the same thing – the Titans were moving faster than normal, with a purpose that sent chills down their spines.

"I'll take care of them," Mike said, his voice low so only Aaron could hear.

Aaron nodded, his jaw set in determination. "I'm coming with you," he replied, leaving no room for argument.

As they prepared to split off from the main group, one of the younger soldiers called out nervously. "Will you two be alright on your own?"

It was Dino who answered, his voice filled with a confidence that seemed to calm some of the nervous energy around them. "Captain Mustang is the second strongest soldier humanity has, and Squad Leader Mike is the third. They'll be fine."

Just as they were about to ride out, Christa approached Aaron. Her blue eyes were filled with worry as she looked up at him. "Be careful," she said softly. "Come back safely, okay?"

Aaron felt his expression soften as he looked down at her. Despite the danger they were facing, despite the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, he felt a warmth bloom in his chest at her concern. "I will, Christa," he promised, his voice gentle. "You stay safe too."

Christa managed a small smile, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away around them. But then reality crashed back in, and with a final nod, they parted ways.

Aaron and Mike spurred their horses forward, riding hard towards the approaching Titans. The wind whipped past them, carrying with it the acrid scent of fear and the earthy smell of disturbed soil. Behind them, they could hear the thundering of hooves as the rest of the squad split off in different directions.

As they rode, Aaron's mind raced. He thought of Christa, of the fear in her eyes and the warmth of her smile. He thought of Reiner and Bertholdt, and the suspicions that still lingered in the back of his mind. He thought of Annie, and wondered if Erwin's plan to capture her had succeeded.

But most of all, he thought of the battle that lay ahead. The Titans were moving with a purpose he'd never seen before, and that terrified him more than he cared to admit. Whatever was driving them, whatever force was behind this attack, Aaron knew that the fate of humanity might very well rest on what happened in the next few hours.

As they approached a large, abandoned barn, Mike suddenly reined in his horse. "Here," he said, his eyes scanning the dilapidated structure. "We'll make our stand here."

Aaron nodded, dismounting in one fluid motion. As he drew his blades, feeling the familiar weight of the steel in his hands, he felt a strange calm settle over him. This was what he was made for, what all those years of training had prepared him for.

"Ready?" Mike asked, his own blades glinting in the harsh sunlight.

Aaron allowed himself a grim smile. "Born ready," he replied.

And with that, they turned to face the approaching Titans, the fate of humanity hanging in the balance.

The world seemed to hold its breath as Aaron and Mike stood before the abandoned barn, their blades at the ready. The distant rumble of Titan footsteps grew louder with each passing second, a grim countdown to the battle that lay ahead.

Aaron's mind was clear, focused in a way it only ever was in moments like these. Every sense was heightened – he could feel the rough grip of his blade handles, smell the musty scent of old hay from the barn behind them, hear the steady rhythm of Mike's breathing beside him.

As the first Titan came into view, its grotesque form lumbering around the corner of a distant hill, Aaron felt a familiar surge of adrenaline course through his veins. This was it. This was what he had trained for, what he had survived the Underground for.

"Remember," Mike's voice cut through Aaron's thoughts, low and intense. "We're not here to be heroes. Our job is to buy time for the evacuation. Hit hard, hit fast, and don't take unnecessary risks."

Aaron nodded, his eyes never leaving the approaching Titans. "Understood," he replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of their situation.

As the Titans drew closer, their massive forms casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun, Aaron couldn't help but think of Christa. Of the worry in her blue eyes as they had parted ways, of the warmth of her smile that seemed to linger even now. He thought of the future he had dared to imagine – a quiet life beyond the walls, peace, maybe even a family.

With a shake of his head, Aaron pushed those thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time for daydreams or regrets. Now was the time for action.

"Here they come," Mike growled, his muscles tensing in preparation.

Aaron tightened his grip on his blades, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the approaching Titans. Nine of them, varying in size from a relatively small 5-meter class to a towering 15-meter behemoth.

"I'll take the big one," Aaron said, his voice filled with a confidence he didn't entirely feel. "You handle the smaller ones?"

Mike nodded, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just like old times," he replied.

And with that, they launched into action. The familiar hiss of ODM gear filled the air as Aaron and Mike shot forward, their bodies twisting and turning with a grace that belied the deadly nature of their dance.

Aaron aimed straight for the 15-meter Titan, his blades glinting in the sunlight as he arced through the air. The Titan's massive hand swung towards him, fingers grasping at empty air as Aaron deftly maneuvered around the attack.

With a burst of gas, Aaron propelled himself upwards, his blades singing as they sliced deep into the Titan's arm. Steam hissed from the wound, but Aaron was already moving, swinging around to the Titan's back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mike engaged with two smaller Titans, his movements a blur of steel and precision. But Aaron couldn't afford to be distracted. The 15-meter Titan was turning, its mouth open in a silent roar as it reached for him once more.

Time seemed to slow as Aaron fired his hooks into the Titan's shoulder, using the momentum to swing himself up and over its head. For a moment, he was suspended in the air, the world spinning around him as he twisted his body into position.

Then gravity took hold, and Aaron was falling. But this was no uncontrolled descent. This was the culmination of years of training, of countless battles and near-misses. This was Aaron Mustang in his element.

His blades found their mark, slicing deep into the Titan's nape. The creature's eyes widened in what might have been surprise before it began to fall, steam billowing from its disintegrating form.

Aaron didn't have time to celebrate his victory. Even as he launched himself off the falling Titan, he could see two more converging on his position. His muscles burned with exertion, sweat stinging his eyes, but he pushed through the pain. There would be time for rest later. For now, there were Titans to kill.

As he engaged the next Titan, Aaron spared a glance towards Mike. The older soldier was holding his own, three Titan corpses already steaming at his feet. But more were coming, their massive forms appearing over the horizon like a nightmarish parade.

"Mike!" Aaron shouted, his voice nearly lost in the chaos of battle. "There are too many! We need to fall back!"

Mike nodded grimly, dispatching another Titan with a swift strike to the nape. "To the barn!" he called back. "We'll use the height to our advantage!"

As they retreated towards the dilapidated structure, Aaron's mind raced. They were outnumbered, outgunned. But they had to hold on. They had to buy time for the others to evacuate the nearby villages. They had to give humanity a fighting chance.

With renewed determination, Aaron launched himself towards the barn's roof, his boots finding purchase on the weathered shingles. As he turned to face the approaching Titans, blades at the ready, he allowed himself a moment of grim satisfaction.

...

The weathered shingles of the old barn's roof creaked ominously under Aaron and Mike's feet as they landed, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The air was thick with the acrid stench of Titan steam and the metallic tang of blood. Around them, the corpses of fallen Titans lay steaming in the late afternoon sun, a grim testament to their hard-fought battle.

Aaron's hands shook slightly as he checked his ODM gear, his face falling as he realized the truth he'd been dreading. "I'm out of gas," he said, his voice hoarse from exertion.

Mike nodded grimly, his own gear whirring softly as he assessed its condition. "Same here," he replied, his eyes never leaving the horizon where more Titans were appearing. "But we've done our job. We've bought enough time."

As they caught their breath, a movement in the distance caught their attention. A massive figure, easily 15 meters tall and covered in thick, matted fur, lumbered slowly towards them. It had been there for a while, watching from afar, but now it seemed to be approaching with purpose.

"That abnormal concerns me," Mike muttered, his brow furrowed in concentration. "But it seems to be ignoring us for now."

Aaron's eyes narrowed as he studied the strange Titan. "It looks like some kind of beast," he observed, a chill running down his spine at the creature's eerily intelligent gaze.

Mike nodded, his decision made. "We've done enough. It's time to go." He brought his fingers to his lips, letting out a sharp, piercing whistle. In the distance, they could see Mike's horse galloping towards them, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake.

Aaron was about to call for his own mount when suddenly, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The Beast Titan, moving with a speed that belied its massive size, snatched Mike's approaching horse out of the air. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Aaron and Mike watched in horror, their minds struggling to process what they were seeing.

Then, with a casual flick of its massive arm, the Beast Titan hurled the horse directly at them. Aaron's instincts kicked in, his body moving before his mind could catch up. He dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the makeshift projectile. But in his desperation to dodge, he lost his footing on the slippery roof tiles.

"MIKE!" Aaron's scream tore from his throat as he watched his comrade tumble from the roof, landing hard on the ground below. Mike's pained grunt told Aaron he was still alive, but the awkward angle of his leg spoke of a serious injury.

Aaron's mind raced, calculating angles and distances as he prepared to launch himself off the roof to aid his fallen friend. But as he reached for his gear triggers, the horrible reality of his situation crashed over him anew. No gas. No way to safely make it to the ground.

Before he could formulate a new plan, a massive hand wrapped around Mike's prone form. Aaron watched in helpless horror as a Titan lifted Mike to its gaping maw, its teeth closing around Mike's leg with sickening force.

Mike's scream of agony cut through the air, a sound that Aaron knew would haunt his nightmares for years to come. But then, something happened that shook Aaron to his very core.

"Wait," a deep, gravelly voice echoed across the battlefield.

Aaron felt his blood run cold. That voice... it couldn't be. Titans didn't speak. It was impossible. And yet...

The Beast Titan crouched down, its massive face looming over Mike's broken form. With a gentleness that seemed at odds with its monstrous appearance, it plucked the ODM gear from Mike's body.

"Is this the device you use to slay Titans?" the Beast Titan asked, its voice filled with genuine curiosity. "What do you call it?"

Silence reigned. Aaron could see the shock on Mike's face, mirroring the disbelief he felt coursing through his own veins. This couldn't be happening. It defied everything they knew about Titans.

The Beast Titan tilted its head, bringing one massive hand up to scratch at its ear in a disturbingly human gesture of confusion. "Hm? How strange... We should be speaking the same language."

As the Beast Titan straightened to its full height, something in Aaron's mind snapped back into focus. Mike was still in danger, still caught in the jaws of a Titan that seemed frozen in confusion at its leader's command.

Thoughts raced through Aaron's mind at lightning speed. This Titan, this beast... it had to be a human, just like Annie. But who? Reiner? Bertholdt? Or someone else entirely? How many humans with the power to become Titans were there?

There was no time to ponder these questions now. Mike needed him. With a deep breath, Aaron steeled himself for what he was about to do. It was risky, possibly suicidal, but he had no choice.

Aaron sprinted across the roof, ignoring the protests of his aching muscles. As he reached the edge, he launched himself into the air, his fingers pressed to his lips as he let out a piercing whistle.

For a heart-stopping moment, he was in free fall, the ground rushing up to meet him. Then, like an answer to a prayer, his black stallion appeared beneath him. Aaron landed hard on its back, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs, but he held on.

The Beast Titan's massive hand swung towards him, but Aaron was already moving. He urged his horse forward, the faithful animal responding to his commands with preternatural understanding. They weaved between the Titan's grasping fingers, Aaron's heart pounding in his chest as they narrowly avoided capture.

As they thundered past the Titan holding Mike, Aaron's blade flashed in the sunlight. With a single, precise strike, he severed the creature's nape. Its grip on Mike loosened as it began to fall, steam already rising from its fatal wound.

Aaron didn't slow down. He reached for the spare gas canisters strapped to his horse's saddle, a backup he always carried for emergencies. With practiced movements, he swapped out his empty canisters for the fresh ones, the familiar weight settling into his gear.

The Beast Titan watched this display with what could only be described as bewilderment. "What are you doing?" it asked, its deep voice tinged with confusion. "Do you have such a death wish?"

Aaron didn't bother to respond. His ODM gear whirred to life as he launched himself off his horse, hooks embedding themselves deep in the Beast Titan's flesh. The creature let out a deafening roar, its massive hand swinging towards Aaron with devastating force.

But Aaron was ready. He twisted in mid-air, his body moving with a grace and precision born from years of relentless training. His blades sang as they sliced through the Beast Titan's arm, severing it at the elbow.

Steam erupted from the wound, momentarily obscuring Aaron's vision. He could hear the Beast Titan's pained howl, feel the tremors of its massive body as it staggered back. As the steam cleared, Aaron saw that the creature had brought its remaining hand up to cover its nape – the telltale sign of a Titan shifter protecting their weak point.

Aaron's mind raced, recalculating his approach. The nape was out of reach, but there were other ways to incapacitate a Titan. With a burst of gas, he changed direction, aiming for the Beast Titan's face.

The creature's eyes widened in surprise as Aaron hurtled towards it. At the last moment, a crystalline sheen began to spread across its nape – another trait it shared with Annie. But Aaron had anticipated this. Instead of going for the killing blow, he drove his blades deep into the Beast Titan's eyes.

The roar that followed shook the very ground, nearly causing Aaron to lose his grip. But he held on, using the Beast Titan's own momentum against it as it thrashed in pain. With a final burst of gas, Aaron launched himself straight into the Titan's mouth.

For a moment, he was engulfed in heat and darkness, the stench of Titan flesh overwhelming his senses. Then he was bursting through the back of the creature's neck, covered in blood and steam, with a very human form clutched in his arms.

As they tumbled to the ground, Aaron got his first look at the person who had been controlling the Beast Titan. It was a man, older than Aaron, with blonde hair, a beard, and round glasses that somehow remained perched on his nose despite the violence of their exit. His limbs were severed, steam rising from the stumps – a necessary part of extracting a Titan shifter from their Titan form.

Aaron wasted no time. As soon as they hit the ground, he pinned the man down, driving one of his blades deep into the stranger's stomach. "Answer me," Aaron growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Who the hell are you?"

The man – Zeke, though Aaron didn't know his name – merely groaned in pain, his eyes unfocused behind his steamed-up glasses. For a moment, Aaron thought he might have rendered the man unconscious. But then, Zeke's mouth opened, and what came out was not words, but a roar.

The effect was immediate. The remaining Titans, which had been standing eerily still since the Beast Titan's appearance, suddenly sprang into action. They converged on Aaron's position, their massive forms casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun.

Aaron cursed under his breath, releasing his hold on Zeke as he spun to face the new threat. His blades flashed in the light as he engaged the first Titan, a 7-meter class with a disturbingly wide grin. Aaron's ODM gear sang as he launched himself into the air, twisting to avoid the Titan's grasping hands.

With a series of rapid, precise movements, Aaron sliced through the Titan's nape, barely pausing as he moved on to the next one. His world narrowed to a series of snapshots – the glint of sunlight on steel, the hiss of escaping gas, the wet thud of blade meeting flesh.

He took down a 10-meter Titan with a spinning attack that severed both its ankles before he went for the kill. A pair of smaller Titans fell to a combination of quick strikes and clever use of their own momentum against them. The fifth and final Titan, a 12-meter class with unnaturally long arms, proved to be more of a challenge. Aaron had to use every trick in his arsenal, every ounce of skill and experience he'd gained over years of fighting, to finally bring it down.

As the last Titan fell, steam rising from its disintegrating form, Aaron allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. His muscles screamed in protest, his lungs burning as he gulped in air. But there was no time to rest.

A movement caught his eye – a small, quadrupedal Titan was scuttling away, Zeke's prone form clutched in its jaws. Aaron's eyes widened in disbelief. How had he missed that one?

Without hesitation, Aaron launched himself after the fleeing Titan, his ODM gear propelling him through the air with breathtaking speed. He was gaining on them, his blades poised to strike...

"Is that you never give up, you son of a bitch?" Zeke's pained voice carried back to him, filled with a mixture of frustration and grudging respect.

Aaron was so focused on his pursuit that he almost missed the small Titan approaching Mike's prone form. Almost, but not quite. In that split second, Aaron had to make an impossible choice – continue his pursuit of Zeke, or save Mike.

With a frustrated click of his tongue, Aaron changed direction. His hooks found purchase in a nearby tree as he swung in a wide arc, building up speed. As he neared the Titan threatening Mike, Aaron released his hooks, using his momentum to spin into a deadly whirlwind of blades.

The Titan never stood a chance. Aaron's attack was swift and merciless, reducing the creature to a steaming pile of flesh before it could lay a finger on Mike.

As Aaron landed beside his injured comrade, he cast one last look in the direction Zeke had disappeared. The quadrupedal Titan was long gone, taking with it answers to questions Aaron hadn't even known to ask until today.

"What... what the hell was that?" Mike's weak voice drew Aaron's attention back to the present.

Aaron knelt beside Mike, quickly assessing his injuries. The leg that had been caught in the Titan's mouth was a mess, but with proper medical attention, Mike would likely keep it. "I have no idea," Aaron admitted, his mind still reeling from everything that had transpired. "But whatever it was, it just made things a whole lot more complicated."