Chapter 10

"Hey, Shin. Do you want that?"

The familiar voice made Shin pause. He turned around to find Hannes standing behind him, arms crossed casually and a half-smile tugging at his lips.

"When did you get here…?" Shin murmured, blinking.

"You brat," Hannes chuckled, feigning offense. "Don't tell me you don't recognize me?"

Shin frowned slightly, puzzled—but only for a moment. A sudden flood of memories surged to the front of his mind. The image of this man, a little younger and a lot less tired, grinning as he held a squirming baby in his arms. Hannes. That name unlocked a long-dormant connection.

"Uncle… Hannes," Shin said softly.

The recognition sparked a wider grin from the older man. "Heh, so you do remember."

Hannes nodded with a tinge of nostalgia in his eyes. "Your old man and I trained together, you know. Back in the Corps days, we were both just snot-nosed recruits getting our asses kicked by Keith Shadis."

Shin's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of his father. The memories that belonged to his body, and the ones from his previous life, tangled together in silence.

"He had potential," Hannes continued. "Strong will, strong ideals. Keith liked him. Thought he'd go far in the Survey Corps… until he didn't." His tone dipped into quiet regret. "That world chews you up fast."

Shin didn't respond right away. He knew the story well enough. His father—this world's father—had died outside the Walls. Another name on a report. Another white cloth handed to a grieving widow.

"I figured you might've forgotten me after all these years," Hannes said with a short laugh, then nodded toward the blade still in Shin's hand. "So, seriously… you want it?"

Shin looked at the blade again, fingers tightening around the hilt.

"Yeah," he said without hesitation. "I want it."

Hannes raised an eyebrow. "You know civilians aren't allowed to carry this kind of restricted gear, right?"

"I figured."

There was no point arguing. It was against regulation—plain and simple.

But Hannes gave him a knowing look, the kind of look people exchanged when rules were more like suggestions.

"Well," he muttered, glancing around the warehouse to make sure no one was listening. "The conscription meeting's not far off. Early next year. We've only got three spots open in Shiganshina."

Shin looked up sharply. "Are you saying one's already been promised?"

Hannes shrugged. "Not exactly. I don't have the authority to guarantee anything. I'm just a lowly Garrison officer. But I can get your name on the reserve list. After that… it's up to you."

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "One of those spots won't be handed out through connections. It'll go to whoever proves they've got the guts for it. You interested?"

Shin nodded. "I am."

Hannes gave a small, approving smile, then clapped a hand on his shoulder. "That's what I thought. When the time comes, apply to the Garrison. I'll look out for you."

Shin's reply was immediate and firm. "I'm aiming for the Survey Corps."

Hannes froze mid-nod.

"…What?"

"I'm joining the Survey Corps," Shin repeated, calmly.

Hannes blinked. "Wait—wait. Hold on. The Survey Corps? Are you out of your mind?!"

His voice cracked louder than intended. A few workers in nearby corners glanced over. Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Realizing he'd drawn attention, Hannes leaned in again, this time whispering harshly. "Do you even know what that means? Joining the Survey Corps is practically a death sentence!"

"I know," Shin said, his tone steady. "But I have my reasons. Even if it means dying, I have to join."

For a moment, Hannes just stared at him—silenced not by Shin's words, but by the certainty in them. It reminded him, painfully, of another conversation long ago. One he'd had with Shin's father on graduation day.

No matter how much he'd tried to dissuade him back then, the man had refused to waver. He'd walked straight into hell without hesitation.

And now, his son was standing before him, bearing the same conviction in his eyes.

"…Damn it," Hannes muttered under his breath.

He rubbed his face with one hand, then looked at Shin again. "You really are your father's son."

His voice softened, weighted with resignation. "I still don't like it. I won't pretend to support your decision. But… you'll be fourteen next year. Old enough to choose your path."

Shin gave a quiet nod, sensing the emotion behind the words. There was no malice in Hannes' resistance—only fear. The kind that came from watching too many people disappear beyond the Wall and never return.

"Thank you," Shin said. "For worrying about me… and for remembering."

Hannes grunted in response, masking his thoughts with a half-hearted smirk. He patted Shin on the shoulder again, a bit harder this time.

"You're a stubborn brat, just like he was. Don't die too early, alright?"

Without waiting for a reply, Hannes turned and walked back toward the depot entrance, his footsteps a little heavier than before.

Shin stood there for a moment, watching him go, a strange twinge of melancholy stirring in his chest.

But he shook it off and turned back to the equipment crates. His mission wasn't over—not even close. The only thing that mattered now was strength. Power. Mastery.

In this world, where man devours man and monsters rule the sky, weakness was a death sentence.

One day, Shin thought as he picked up a new blade, inspecting its edge, I'll be strong enough to kill a Titan with my bare hands.

He was far from that now. But he had time—and determination.

And most importantly… he had a reason.

It didn't take long before Harry wandered back over, rubbing his chin and eyeing Shin sideways.

"Hey, brat," he muttered under his breath. "Heard a rumor… you're planning to enlist next year?"

Shin looked up from the gear in his hands and smiled faintly.

"Yeah," he said. "I am."

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A/N: Please Leave A Comment Or Drop A Powerstone It'll mean alot to me...