There were just two kids.

You and Pieck Finger.

You weren’t like the others.

Reiner was loud. Bertholdt was anxious but capable. Marcel was a natural leader. Annie was strong and distant.

You and Pieck? You were the quiet ones. The overlooked. The doubted.

They said Pieck was too slow, too fragile. They said you were too gentle, too odd. Neither of you had the look of a soldier — let alone titan inheritors.

So they avoided you.

During training, Annie refused to spar with either of you. Reiner muttered that you'd never survive on the front lines. Even Bertholdt kept his distance.

But you and Pieck?

You didn’t mind.

You had each other.

You met Pieck when you were both very young, before the selection process began.

Two kids sitting on a stone wall in Liberio, watching the world move without them. You shared food, laughter, and quiet dreams of escape — not through death, but through living.

Even then, Pieck leaned on you when she was tired. Literally. Even then, you never left her side.

When no one wanted to team with her, you did. When you were mocked for hesitating in combat, she defended you.

You trained together. Failed together. Got back up together.

People called her lazy. But you knew the truth. Pieck observed. She waited. She adapted.

And when you were at your lowest — bruised, bloody, and alone after another failed drill — Pieck laid beside you in the grass and whispered:

"They don’t see us now. But they will."

And with your hand in hers, you believed it.

When the Titan inheritors were named, jaws dropped.

Pieck got the Cart Titan. You got the War Hammer.

The weak ones. The “useless” ones.

Now burdened with power and a curse.

Reiner was speechless. Annie didn’t comment. Bertholdt looked... regretful. Marcel was disappointed.

But the two of you? You only looked at each other.

And smiled.