Chapter Text
And the cry goes out
They lose their minds for us
And how it plays out
Now we're in the ring
And we're coming for blood
- Glory and Gore by Lorde
"You've got guts, kid, but you really should surrender."
Eren glared up at the short man from his sprawled position on the arena floor. Or as well as he could glare with only one good eye; the other was obscured by blood streaming steadily from a gash on his forehead that was showing no sign of slowing, which was somewhat worrying. Even more worrying was his left arm hanging uselessly at his side - broken or dislocated, Eren had no idea which. His healing power had stopped responding quite a while ago, exhausted by the brutal fight. Eren was starting to see why Levi was undefeated, the strongest fighter in the Games.
Still, it wasn't in Eren to just roll over and give up. He forced himself up on shaky legs, fighting off a wave of dizziness.
"Eren what are you doing?" Eren heard Armin's mental voice echoing in his head. "He's right; you can't fight in the state you're in. You should stop before you get hurt worse."
Eren shook his head. He had to see this to the end. He only had a year; one year to impress one of the Leagues enough to recruit him or else his chance was gone forever. He had to finish this; win or lose, he had to finish.
Levi raised a single eyebrow. "You're still trying to fight? You fucking moron; you can barely stand. Surrender."
Eren's only response was to spit out a loosened tooth. The bloody fragment bounced off Levi's boot before skittering away across the steel floor.
Levi's lips curled back in disgust. "So, we're doing this the hard way, huh?" He crouched down into a fighting stance, his posture wary. He was waiting for Eren to make the first move.
Eren slowed his breathing and concentrated, finding his inner center of control.
And then he shattered it.
He felt the adrenaline surging through his veins, power filling his limbs. His right eye opened under the curtain of blood, the red washing across his vision matching the red washing across his mind. The vague aches and throbs of his injuries faded away completely. He heard one last comment from Armin before his teammate's voice faded away as well.
"Goddamn it, Eren..."
And then the only thing in Eren's mind was rage. Rage focused on one fact: the man in front of him was an opponent.
Destroy. Destroy. Destroy.
Destroydestroydestroydestroydestroydestroy!
With an inhuman growl, Eren launched forward, faster than he had been before. Surprise flashed across Levi's face for an instant, right before Eren struck a glancing blow against it. Levi stumbled back, a trickle of blood spilling from a split lip.
For the first time that morning, Levi was put on the defensive as he dodged Eren's wild blows, and the noise of the crowd surrounding the arena rose to an excited pitch. As Levi danced backwards, his silver eyes flickered, analyzing Eren's movements, looking for an opening.
Eren launched a sweeping strike with his left, and Levi raised his hands to meet it instead of dodging. He targeted Eren's weakened arm with precision, knocking it aside. Levi followed through, ducking under Eren's reach and swinging around behind him.
"Sorry about this, kid."
Levi propelled his body into a spinning aerial kick, and his knee connected solidly with the back of Eren's neck.
Everything went black.
~~~~~
When Eren came to, he was staring up at a singularly uninteresting white tile ceiling. He blinked a few times, feeling oddly detached, as if his mind was floating several inches above his body. Out of the corner of his eye, Eren could see an IV, a clear liquid slowly dripping from the bag into a line that was presumably attached to his arm.
That explained the floaty feeling, at least.
"What happened?"
"I'll tell you what happened, Jaeger." Eren tried to turn his head toward the source of the snarling voice, but there was some sort of brace around his neck. He carefully levered himself up into a sitting position instead. Jean, Mikasa, and Armin were all gathered in the small room next to his bed, looking at him with varying degrees of irritation (Jean) and concern (Mikasa and Armin). Jean crossed his arms and glared. "You over-extended your healing ability, so you're in the Med Center for the next day or two. Until your power recharges, you're gonna have to put up with being injured like the rest of us. And that means that we're a team member short for our three-on-three tonight. Or were you so fucking eager to impress your hero that you forgot about that?"
Eren winced, but then he met Jean's amber eyes glare for glare. "It was an evaluation match, Jean. You know the first cut is coming soon; I couldn't half-ass it. And don't try to tell me you wouldn't have done the same."
Jean opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by a dry, deep voice coming from the doorway. "And you really think that acting like an idiot who doesn't know his own limitations is going to stop the Leagues from sending your sorry ass back home?"
Every eye in the room turned to see Levi, casually leaning against the door frame. He'd changed out of his body armor and into casual clothes, a simple pair of black jeans and a dark, long-sleeved t-shirt. "You." Mikasa was practically hissing as she started to head to the door.
Jean quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, stopping her. "Babe, don't. Calm down."
"I am calm." She glared at Levi who stared steadily back, his face relaxed into a bored expression. "You could've broken Eren's neck. What the hell were you thinking?"
"I knew what I was doing. And don’t blame me for…this.” He waved at where Eren was propped against the headboard of the bed. “I gave him plenty of chances to surrender. He chose not to.”
Mikasa’s lips were still settled into an angry line, and she opened her mouth to retort, but Eren cut her off. “He’s right, Mikasa. He kept asking me to surrender, and Armin told me to, too. I'm the one that decided to keep fighting."
Mikasa looked at Eren, then over to Armin, who nodded. Her shoulders slumped, and she lost the murderous aura. Although the look she shot Eren promised him that they would talk - or rather, Eren would listen - as soon as he recovered from his injuries.
Jean relaxed his hold on Mikasa when it became clear that she wasn’t going to charge at Levi anymore. She straightened up, giving him one last challenging glare before she pointedly turned her back to him.
Levi pushed away from the door. “Well, I saw what I came here to see. I imagine I’ll be meeting you all again.” His lips twitched up into something closer to a smirk than a smile, cold and not at all friendly. “If you manage not to get cut next week, that is.”
Eren, Armin, and Jean watched him walk away, and then Jean sagged into one of the chairs beside the window. "...the hell was that about?"
Armin ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe he wanted to check on Eren?"
Mikasa snorted at that. Eren sighed. "I really doubt that, Ar. Why would someone like him be worried about some rookie?"
Jean looked thoughtful. "Actually, Armin might be onto something. I've been watching the evaluation matches, and you're the only one that Survey Corps sent Levi to evaluate. It's weird. We haven't even had the first cuts yet, so why are they sending out their best fighter?"
Armin nodded. "It's not just that. Erwin Smith was Levi's Coordinator for the match."
Eren groaned and shut his eyes. "The leader of Survey Corps watched me get my ass handed to me? Fan-fucking-tastic, Armin. Thanks for letting me know; that really makes me feel better about my chances of moving forward."
"You should be worried, Jaeger. That was a sorry performance out there today." Four pairs of eyes snapped toward the doorway where Keith Shadis, the man in charge of the current crop of rookies, stood with his arms crossed. "Luckily for your teammates, I've got someone to sub in for you tonight. He's a late entry, just transfered in from the Jinae Division. I want to see how he works with a team before I set him up in any solo matches, and you'll do." Shadis jerked his head at the three gathered around Eren's bed. "Arlert, Kirschstein, Ackerman. Come with me. We've got just enough time to get the introductions out of the way before you have to get ready for the match. Jaeger, get some sleep. The more you rest, the sooner you're back on your feet." He turned and walked away, the trench coat he always wore swirling behind him as the harsh and unforgiving light of the Med Center gleamed off his bald pate. The others followed, murmuring goodnight to Eren as they left.
Eren slid back down into bed. He didn't go to sleep, however. He stared up at the tile of the ceiling as worry and doubt gnawed through his brain.
He'd grown up poor, like most mutants. And, like most mutants, the GenMo Games were really the only way out of the slums. People didn't want to hire mutants, didn't want to live next to them. But, if you had enough money, you could live anywhere. And the GenMo Games certainly provided money.
The problem was even getting in. There were three professional Leagues based in Trost, and they only opened up to new recruits once every five years. After six months of intensive training which thinned out the numbers of the hopefuls to about one hundred rookies, they were allowed to start competing in the Arena in solo matches, duos, and trios (and the occasional Brawl match with as many as twenty competitors in the Arena at once). Representatives of the Leagues would watch these matches, as well as send their own fighters in to "evaluate" each rookie. Coordinators, the invaluable members of each team that watched over the fight from an observation booth and relayed strategy and warnings to the fighters on the ground, were evaluated a bit differently, by having an observer sit in with them during a match.
After the first round of evaluations, the rookies would be cut by one half. The decision on who to cut would be made by the Chairman of the Games, Darius Zackley, and the three leaders, or Commanders, of the Leagues. The leaders were currently Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps, Nile Dawk of the Military Police, and Dot Pixis of the Stationary Guard. After the cut, each surviving rookie would be assigned a mentor from one of the Leagues; usually this was a good indication of who would approach you with a recruitment offer, if any. In the end, though, each League would only accept eleven new members - ten fighters and one Coordinator. If you were a fighter that also worked as a Coordinator, like Jean, you counted as a fighter for recruitment.
Eren chewed on his lip, wondering if he'd totally screwed his chances. He'd done well in his evaluations with the MP and the Guard, but Survey...
'Maybe it would have been better if I had surrendered.' The thought of surrendering still sat like bile in his stomach, though. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference.
"Arrgh!" Frustrated, Eren slammed his hand against the railing of the bed. Unfortunately for him, it was his left hand, and the resulting shockwave of pain shooting up from his elbow and shoulder had him gasping and nearly in tears. Swearing to himself, he reached for the remote to turn on the TV, thinking that he could at least watch Jean and Mikasa's match to distract himself from the pain and the endless thoughts circling through his head.
And, to be honest, he was more than a little curious about this mysterious new transfer to the Trost Division…