how does one learn from his mistakes? how does one finally allow a fleeting thought that maybe he wasn’t as lucid throughout his life as he used to think? one brief glance was, apparently, all it took.

Zeke was never sentimental. he saw beauty, but for most of his life, beautiful was a concept he understood intellectually. he saw a painting and considered it beautiful because it was created by the hand of a master. not because it pulled on any strings inside him. now, though? he found beauty somewhere he didn’t expect to.

no, he wanted nothing more than for this nightmare to end. he’d bleed for it. he’d live through any punishment for being born the way he was. anything rather than be drowned in the blood of his own kin. but this bloodshed was never enough. maybe it’s just human nature to breed violence where there should’ve been none. maybe he’ll never understand this part of their nature. animals murder to feed or to protect; they don’t do it for fun. people? they’d start another war over a word that came out wrong.

the only refuge he found was in the very mission his whole being recoiled from. he still attended, though — who else, if not Zeke? who else would carry this burden? he played the hand he was given. unfortunately, it was a very strong hand, holding too much power for his consciousness to process the consequences. so, the voices only went quiet when he settled down by a beautiful lake on the outskirts of the forest. a few miles away, there was a village — Ragako — his final destination. his part is simple in the worst way: to infiltrate, to spread the spinal fluid, then to scream. boom, there would be a horde of pure titans that could serve as a fine distraction…

the sheer atrocity of this plan. Zeke was never pure — hell, even his own very existence was a sin. if he had a choice, he’d rather never be born at all — because after being born anyway, in the following twenty-something years he committed more crimes than the worst of the worst known to humanity. starting with selling his parents out… for a brief moment, he felt lucky he doesn’t owe any confessions to anyone — not to any fancy preacher, not to God himself, because if he had? he wouldn’t make it through.

now, sitting by a lake with water clearer than he’s ever seen, a part of Zeke felt undeserving of witnessing such a place. it was like washing his bloodstained hands in its crystal-clear depths was almost like desecrating the place with his presence. but he needed a place to stay, somewhere secure to settle down and reflect on his future actions — to figure the infiltration part out. after all, the residents might be just villagers, but human instinct is capable of startling things once suspicion takes hold. and he doesn’t look local. doesn’t sound it.he was such an eyesore it felt painful.

before Zeke could come out with any plan, the sun set. so, he figured that in a sacred place like this, he might as well try to get some sleep. after all, his camp was discreet and no locals seemed to visit this place — perhaps they had other sources of clean water near the village itself. besides, maybe they don’t even need this much water — Ragako is the only village nearby.

and he was certain he would wake up alone. save for a few wild animals wandering closer to drink, maybe?

what he didn’t expect was to see someone swimming in the lake. when he woke up, Zeke was sure at first, he was seeing a vision. no human could be this beautiful. no sight was supposed to be this captivating. and despite only waking up now to see just a glimpse of skin under the surface, he felt like the vilest intruder. and worse? he was such an idiot to move — to make a sound that cut through the idyll of your morning bath, kicking an empty tin can while trying to turn away and pretend to be a damn rock. or whatever he thought was a good idea, being caught staring like some kind of creep.

«I, uh— sorry, I didn’t know there was someone else here. the lake looked abandoned, and I…» and of course he had to stutter and ruin it completely.