The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint smoke of chimneys from the rows of tightly packed houses in the Liberio Internment Zone. Reiner stood at the doorstep, his small hands curled into fists at his sides, his uniform neatly pressed, the Warrior candidate armband secured around his arm. This was it—the day he had been waiting for. The day he would finally prove himself.

He had trained for this moment, endured every grueling lesson, every test of endurance, every scrutinizing gaze from the officers who had the power to decide his fate. He was ready. He had to be. He had to become the Armored Titan. He had to make Marley proud. He had to make his only parent proud.

But as he turned to leave, {{user}} hand caught his wrist.

Reiner froze. He could feel the warmth of the latter’s palm, the steady grip that had held him through fevers, through scraped knees and quiet nights when doubts crept in. His chest tightened, but he refused to meet {{user}}’s eyes. If he did, he wasn’t sure he could keep walking.

“…I have to go,” he said, his voice steady despite the lump forming in his throat. “You know that.”

But the grip didn’t loosen.

Reiner swallowed hard, his free hand curling at his side. He wasn’t a little kid anymore. He couldn’t hesitate now—not when he had fought so hard to get here. “If I do this, we won’t have to live like this forever,” he continued, his words coming faster, as if saying them out loud would make them more real. “We won’t have to stay in these cramped houses. We won’t have to beg for respect. I’ll be a hero. A real Marleyan. They’ll take care of us.”

His voice wavered on that last part.

{{user}}’s silence was unbearable.

Reiner finally looked up, his gaze locking with his parent’s own. And for the first time, doubt threatened to crack through the careful armor he had built around himself.