The next morning, every cadet was suited up in uniform.
"First, I need to see if you're even capable of adapting. Those who can't manage that won't even make decent bait!"
It was time for the ODM gear aptitude test—a basic but critical evaluation of whether we were fit to stay in the Cadet Corps. Anyone who failed would be disqualified and sent home to till the fields instead.
I steadily strapped myself into the leather harness, its twin steel cables resting against my waist. Once secured, I was lifted into the air.
Maybe it was natural talent, maybe it was luck, but I didn't even need to do much. I simply steadied myself, staying calm and upright, eyes fixed ahead. I held my balance without struggle, and with that, I passed—scoring high marks for aptitude.
But for some reason… Eren couldn't.
No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't find his balance. He twisted, flailed, adjusted—and fell, over and over.
"Eren Yeager! What do you think you're doing?! Hold your torso upright!" The instructor barked, glaring at the boy who'd just slammed head-first into the dirt again.
From morning until sundown, Eren kept failing.
"It should work if you follow the basics…"
Mikasa, Armin, and I stayed behind on the training field, determined to help him succeed. If he didn't pass, he'd be forced out of the Corps and sent off to work in some frontier village—far from battle, far from revenge.
"Don't rush it," Mikasa coached, her voice calm and steady. "Focus on front-to-back balance."
"Shift your weight gradually to the belt around your waist and inner thighs."
"If I can do it, then you can too," Armin encouraged, a gentle smile lighting his face.
"Okay… I think I've got it this time. Armin, raise me up." Eren, clearly exhausted from the day's repeated failures, still clenched his fists with determination. He couldn't give up. Not yet.
Armin turned the iron crank on the device, raising Eren again into the air. The steel wires creaked, lifting him slowly.
But before he could even reach the required height… he tipped again.
This time, he slammed headfirst into the ground with a dull thud.
"Eren—he's not moving! Did he… pass out?!" I rushed to him. Blood trickled from his forehead, and his eyes were shut tight. Completely unconscious.
"Mikasa, help me carry him! We need to get him to the infirmary." I quickly unlatched the gear while Mikasa and Armin hurried over to lift his limp body.
―――――――――――――――――――――
By dinner, Eren had a bandage wrapped around his head. He looked stunned, defeated—even he couldn't believe he had failed to control something as fundamental as ODM gear.
The four of us sat together. Around us, other cadets chuckled and whispered, mocking Eren under their breath.
He sat across from Armin, with Mikasa beside him. I sat next to Armin, across from Mikasa.
"Eren," Mikasa said gently, patting his arm. He hadn't eaten a single bite.
"Don't let it eat away at you. As long as you succeed tomorrow, it'll be fine," Armin added, trying to keep the mood up.
"I'm pathetic… talking about wiping them all out, and I can't even manage the basics…" Eren muttered, staring down.
"You shouldn't be chasing that goal anymore," Mikasa said suddenly. Her tone had changed—thoughtful, resolute.
"What did you say?" Eren looked up, surprised.
"I said you shouldn't be aiming to become a soldier. Fighting isn't only about throwing your life away." As she spoke, Mikasa's gaze drifted—not to Eren, but toward me, as I quietly sipped from my bowl.
"You're saying this to me? I saw that horror with my own eyes! You think you can change my mind with that logic?" Eren's voice rose in frustration. He glared at Mikasa, who still didn't meet his eyes.
Following her line of sight, Eren looked toward me. "Sandra… you know what happened that day too, don't you?"
I slowly lifted my head. My expression stayed blank, but a subtle sadness lingered there. I didn't respond.
"This has nothing to do with Sandra," Mikasa said quietly. "It's not about how determined you are either."
"What do you mean?"
"Because whether or not you become a soldier isn't something you get to decide."
That finally made Mikasa look at Eren directly. And he—left speechless—had nothing to say in return.
The bell rang, signaling the end of mealtime.
I picked up my empty bowl and stood, glancing briefly at Eren.
"Mikasa's words are worth thinking about. But I believe in you, Eren." With that, I turned and walked away.
"Sandra… wait…" Mikasa watched my back recede into the crowd. She stood up abruptly, grabbing her half-finished plate to follow me—but someone stepped in her path.
"Um… you're not eating that bread, right? Could I have it?" It was Sasha, the girl already known for her obsession with potatoes and food in general. She had clearly been eyeing Mikasa's untouched bread for some time.
Without a word, Mikasa shoved the bread into Sasha's hands and jogged off.
Back at the table, Eren took a deep breath. He held onto the words I'd said to him.
"It's not over yet. I won't give up. Let's go, Armin."
The two of them stood and left, leaving Sasha alone with her prized treasure.
"Mmm~ this bread is amazing~"
―――――――――――――――――――――
I was the first to return to the dorm.
Mikasa came in shortly after, climbing the ladder to the upper bunk.
"That wasn't just for Eren, was it?" I asked while smoothing my blanket and preparing for sleep.
"Mm… if you left, Sandra… I'd go with you. Always," Mikasa said quietly. Her bed was beside the ladder, while mine was against the wall.
I chuckled. "Well, if I really do end up getting kicked out for being too weak, you'd better not come with me."
Mikasa leaned closer in alarm, grabbing both my hands tightly.
"Why…?"
"Because you're strong, Mikasa. You have the strength to keep going, even without me. You should follow your own path—not just chase after mine." I met her gaze, calm and unwavering.
"But… you know I'm not going to give up so easily, right?" I gently pulled my hands away and patted her shoulder.
My eyes drifted toward the red scarf lying by her pillow—the one I gave her years ago, stitched by Carla. Mikasa had always taken care of it, folding it neatly each night.
"It's late. Let's sleep."
―――――――――――――――――――――
The next day.
"Eren Yeager. Are you prepared?" the instructor said, arms crossed. Eren stood alone—today was his makeup test.
"Yes, sir!"
He had been through a lot the day before. Now, his expression was sharper. He glanced toward me, then to his right—where Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover stood.
It was as if the three of us gave him silent strength.
"Begin."
With that order, a nearby cadet began cranking the pulley system. The steel cables lifted Eren into the air.
As I watched his feet rise slowly off the ground, my hands instinctively tightened.
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