"The initiation ceremony for the 104th Cadet Corps will now commence…"
This place felt entirely cut off from the rest of the world—the base of the Cadet Corps, isolated and austere.
I stood in line, the weight of the solemn brown uniform pressing against my shoulders. The emblem of the Cadet Corps, two crossed swords over a shield, was emblazoned on our backs like a vow.
The sun beat down on us mercilessly as we stood at attention. Before us stood a broad-shouldered, bald man radiating authority—and menace. This had to be our instructor.
"Unlucky for you brats… I'm Keith Shadis, the one responsible for training you," he growled. "Don't expect a warm welcome. Right now, you're nothing more than livestock—feed for the Titans! No… even livestock might be too generous!"
That was his greeting. A verbal punch to the gut. No softness. No patience. Only raw truth.
"In the next three years, we'll break you down and rebuild you into something worthy. You'll learn how to fight Titans. And after that, when you finally stand before one, the choice will be yours: will you be devoured like cattle? Will you become a wall of honor that protects the king? Or will you rise as a soldier—one who drives back the Titans with pride? That is for you to decide!"
I stood in the middle row of cadets, surrounded by dozens of other recruits. Not far from me were Mikasa and the others, all bracing for what came next.
This was the part where the instructor started "greeting" us personally.
Shadis stomped up to a trembling blonde boy. "You there!"
"Yes, sir!" Armin Arlert snapped into a salute—right hand over his heart, left behind his back, the vow of offering one's heart to humanity.
"And who the hell are you?!"
"Armin Arlert! From the Shiganshina District, sir!" Armin blurted, barely stopping to breathe.
"Arlert? That's a stupid name! Your parents give you that?"
"No, my grandfather did!" Armin stammered.
"Arlert! Why are you here?!"
Armin had clearly rehearsed this moment. "To help humanity claim victory!"
"Not bad. Then go be Titan bait! Third row—about face!"
Shadis moved on, stalking up to a nervous-looking boy with short blond hair. "You. Who are you?"
"Thomas Wagner, sir! From Trost District!" His voice was noticeably softer than Armin's.
"Too quiet!" the instructor barked, and Thomas was forced to repeat his name over and over until he got it right.
I watched Shadis scan the next few cadets. Most of them he passed by with a quick glance. I could see it in their eyes—some of them had already seen hell. Survivors, like us. Survivors of Shiganshina.
The instructor passed by me, our eyes locking for a brief moment. He didn't stop.
Instead, he made his way to a smug-looking boy with a sharp face. "And you?"
"Jean Kirstein! From Trost District!"
"Why are you here?!"
"To join the Military Police and live comfortably in the interior!" Jean declared boldly.
That was… honest. Not the usual answer, but you had to respect the nerve.
"Oh, is that right? The interior, huh?" Shadis asked with a suspicious calm.
"Yes, sir—!" Jean didn't get to finish.
With a sudden crack, Shadis slammed his forehead into Jean's, dropping him to his knees.
"Who told you to sit down?! If you collapse during roll call, what makes you think you'll ever make it to the Military Police?! Next! You there!"
The next recruit stepped forward—a cheerful-looking boy. "Marco Bott! From Jinae, south of Wall Rose! I'm here to join the Military Police and serve the king!"
"Ambitious," Shadis sneered. "But I doubt the king wants someone with your puny build."
Next up was a boy who looked almost bald. I say "almost" because while Shadis's scalp could reflect sunlight, this kid's couldn't. Close enough.
"Connie Springer! From Ragako Village, south of Wall Rose!" Connie saluted, but—something was wrong.
"Your salute is backwards… Connie Springer…" Shadis growled, then reached forward, clamped his hands around Connie's temples, and lifted him into the air like a sack of potatoes.
"Is your heart on the right side or something?!"
While he shouted, a strange sound cut through the tension—munching. Someone was eating.
Even Shadis paused. We all turned in unison.
It was a girl. Hair tied back in a ponytail. Calmly, unapologetically chewing on something in full view of everyone.
Shadis's jaw dropped. "Hey… you! What do you think you're doing?!"
He stormed toward her, eyes wide. She just kept chewing, seemingly oblivious.
"You! Yes, you! Who are you?!" he bellowed in her face.
She swallowed, raised her right hand—still holding a bitten piece of something—and placed it over her heart. Left hand behind her back.
"Sasha Blouse! From Dauper Village, south of Wall Rose!"
That name clicked instantly. Sasha Blouse… The one and only.
"And what's in your hand?"
"A steamed potato!" she answered proudly.
The salute was flawless. The potato, less so.
"There was one in the kitchen… I couldn't resist!" she explained with a beaming smile.
I felt my lips twitch—almost a grin. I held it back.
"Did you steal that? Why… why are you eating a potato right now?!"
Sasha blinked. "Well, if I let it get cold, it'd go to waste. So I figured I should eat it now."
That did it.
There was no saving her now.
"You still don't get it, do you? Why—why are you eating a potato?!"
With white bits clinging to her lips, Sasha tilted her head. "You mean… why do people eat potatoes?"
Every word she spoke left us more stunned than the last.
This… this was Sasha Blouse, the Potato Girl.
And she had just made an unforgettable first impression.
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