The waves pull at Reiner's feet, bare legs distorted by the water. Push and pull, a motion over which he has no control. Is that what it's like in his head? The confusion snuck up on him this time, a rogue wave knocking him flat before he even realized it was there. Did it have something to do with Eren? Is Reiner always going to struggle when he's around his former friends?
Push and pull. It feels like what's happening with Eren, too, although Reiner doesn't have a name for that. He just keeps chasing it. Chasing Eren. Seeking the other boy out like he can't help himself.
Reiner wipes a hand over his face, smoothing back his short hair before laying his hand between them again. Still not touching Eren. Still close enough to do so if he'd just reach a little farther.
"I started training when I was five," Reiner says, as if that explains everything. To him, it does. He barely remembers life before he began training: first competing to become a Warrior Candidate, then a full-fledged Warrior. His childhood played out in drills and maneuvers, tests he couldn't afford to fail. Of course he's better at a game where he can envision a foam stick as a rifle. Why wouldn't he be?
Reiner doesn't know how much Eren learned about his life before the Training Corps. His real life, not the fiction that he and Bertolt pretended. However, Eren mentioned Marley, and Hange revealed they know about the Warriors. From that, Reiner assumes Eren has some basic knowledge about the Warrior Unit. Namely, how young they are when they begin training.
Healthy Eldian children from ages five to seven. No younger, no older. Of course, if the program accepted children younger than that, Reiner would've been there with his mother's blessing.
"Besides," he adds, throwing a look Eren's way, "I'm still bigger than you."
Not older anymore, which is both strange and easy for Reiner to forget. In terms of height and muscle mass, though, Reiner still has Eren beat.
Gold eyes narrow slightly. "And you can't say you didn't deserve it."
Maybe the first few bouts were unfair because Reiner thought they had the same training. But that last one where he threw all his strength into the blow? Yeah, Reiner has no regrets.
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Push and pull. It feels like what's happening with Eren, too, although Reiner doesn't have a name for that. He just keeps chasing it. Chasing Eren. Seeking the other boy out like he can't help himself.
Reiner wipes a hand over his face, smoothing back his short hair before laying his hand between them again. Still not touching Eren. Still close enough to do so if he'd just reach a little farther.
"I started training when I was five," Reiner says, as if that explains everything. To him, it does. He barely remembers life before he began training: first competing to become a Warrior Candidate, then a full-fledged Warrior. His childhood played out in drills and maneuvers, tests he couldn't afford to fail. Of course he's better at a game where he can envision a foam stick as a rifle. Why wouldn't he be?
Reiner doesn't know how much Eren learned about his life before the Training Corps. His real life, not the fiction that he and Bertolt pretended. However, Eren mentioned Marley, and Hange revealed they know about the Warriors. From that, Reiner assumes Eren has some basic knowledge about the Warrior Unit. Namely, how young they are when they begin training.
Healthy Eldian children from ages five to seven. No younger, no older. Of course, if the program accepted children younger than that, Reiner would've been there with his mother's blessing.
"Besides," he adds, throwing a look Eren's way, "I'm still bigger than you."
Not older anymore, which is both strange and easy for Reiner to forget. In terms of height and muscle mass, though, Reiner still has Eren beat.
Gold eyes narrow slightly. "And you can't say you didn't deserve it."
Maybe the first few bouts were unfair because Reiner thought they had the same training. But that last one where he threw all his strength into the blow? Yeah, Reiner has no regrets.