The next morning, Aki's face looked even more drained than the day before. Dark crescents sat beneath his eyes, and his lips were pressed into a thin, tired line. Whiskerdoom lounged on his desk, grooming a paw with the same disinterest that had become his signature expression.
"You still look like you didn't sleep," the cat muttered without looking up.
Aki sighed.
"I slept like someone waiting for a dagger."
Whiskerdoom paused mid-lick, eyes narrowing.
"Good. Now you're learning."
Aki rubbed his temples.
"I wish I wasn't."
The training grounds outside the Academy were filled with clashing swords, grunts, and the rhythmic scrape of feet on gravel. Students moved in pairs, practicing strikes and parries under the supervision of armored instructors.
Eren stood in the center of the open space, sword drawn, instructing two younger students. His posture was calm and deliberate, his sword arm steady as he corrected their grip.
Aki watched from the edge of the field, feeling out of place and exposed. Every glance seemed to pierce through him.
He shouldn't be here.
He shouldn't be standing so close to Eren.
Why is he looking over here?
A wave of anxiety swept through him, but he forced himself to walk closer.
"Need training?" one instructor barked, eyeing Aki suspiciously.
"No. Just… watching," Aki said quickly.
The instructor snorted but waved him off.
Eren glanced toward him, eyes softening briefly before returning to his students. That small moment of concern only deepened Aki's discomfort.
The calm didn't last.
From the shadowed edge of the grounds, a lone figure stepped forward — taller than the rest, clad in dark armor that absorbed the sunlight like a pool of ink. His helm obscured his face, but his presence twisted the air like a blade.
The training students froze.
The instructors stiffened.
Even Eren's hand tightened around his sword hilt.
The figure's sword slid free of its scabbard with a hiss that seemed louder than it should've been.
Aki's heart slammed against his ribs.
It's real, he thought.
This isn't a simulation. This isn't supposed to happen.
The armored knight's blade swept toward Aki's side in a deadly arc.
Before Aki could even react, Eren's sword flashed.
He moved faster than Aki had ever seen.
With one smooth motion, Eren intercepted the attack, his blade clashing against the rogue knight's sword in a burst of sparks.
The entire field fell silent.
Students froze, jaws slack.
Instructors' mouths hung open.
The knight grunted, pushing hard. Eren held firm, muscles taut but eyes steady.
Aki's legs went weak. His knees buckled. He barely caught himself before falling face-first onto the gravel.
"Why… why are you protecting me?" Aki whispered, his throat dry.
The clash of swords lasted only moments, but it seemed stretched into an eternity for Aki.
Finally, the rogue knight snarled, swung again, and then—perhaps unnerved by Eren's unwavering defense—retreated into the shadows without a word.
The students scattered. The instructors barked orders.
Eren sheathed his sword and turned toward Aki.
His eyes, usually composed, were now clouded with concern.
"Are you alright?" Eren asked, stepping closer.
Aki swallowed hard, trying to steady his breath.
> "I… yeah," he forced out. "I'm fine."
Eren frowned.
"You don't look fine."
Aki's mind screamed at him to confess—Tell him the truth! Say you're not who you appear to be! Say this world's broken!—but he clenched his jaw instead.
"Just tired," he croaked. "Training's… intense."
Eren nodded, but his eyes lingered, studying him as though trying to pierce through the facade.
As the crowd dispersed, Aki stood frozen.
He saved me.
He actually risked his life to stop that blade.
A hot flush crept up his neck.
Why?
Why protect me, of all people?
Why not let the story run its course?
Whiskerdoom appeared beside him as if he had materialized out of thin air.
"Well?" the cat drawled, watching with sharp amusement. "Feeling betrayed?"
Aki shot him a glare.
"I don't even understand it," he growled.
The cat shrugged.
"Understanding isn't the point. Surviving is."
Aki's fists clenched.
"But how can I survive if I don't even know who I'm supposed to be?"
Whiskerdoom's ears twitched.
"Then stop asking and start deciding."
Later that night, Aki sat at his desk, the empty pages of the diary staring back at him accusingly.
He traced the edge of the parchment with his finger.
The diary gave me warnings… rules… tips to survive.
But it never prepared me for this.
It never explained how to deal with… kindness.
A bitter smile twisted his lips.
"Why would the Hero protect the villain?" he whispered to himself.
The question hung in the air like a blade.
Because maybe, deep down…
Aki wondered if it didn't matter anymore who was villain and who was hero.
Maybe the game itself had already started to rot.
The diary's blank pages remained silent, but the world around Aki screamed for answers.
With the rogue knight's attack fresh in his mind and Eren's unwavering loyalty burning like a puzzle he couldn't solve, Aki realized this wasn't about survival anymore.
It was about choice.
And the blade Eren drew today wasn't just for training.
It was for him.