The first few days passed in a haze of sleep, milk, and muffled voices. I had no idea what time it was most of the time—sunlight would sometimes warm the room, and other times, it was replaced by the orange glow of lanterns. But bit by bit, my awareness sharpened.
I was getting used to this body.
I could control my neck a little more. Focus my gaze a little longer. Even make slight noises without crying—which, in itself, felt like an accomplishment.
On the fifth or sixth day, the door creaked open, and in came the man I'd been trying to observe better for days now—Albert Smith, my new father. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw and tired but kind eyes. He wore a military uniform—Survey Corps insignia on his back.
The moment I saw the symbol, something clicked.
Smith. Survey Corps. A blonde older brother named Erwin…
I'd suspected since birth, but now I knew for sure.
I've been reborn into the world of Attack on Titan.
It was hard to process. There was no fanfare, no dramatic sky splitting apart, no voice welcoming me to a new life. Just the creak of a chair, the touch of a warm hand, and a gentle smile from the man who'd unknowingly confirmed everything.
"How's our little one?" Albert said quietly, sitting beside the crib.
"Still sleeping mostly," said Clara, my mother—Erwin's mother. "He's quieter than Erwin was."
Albert leaned in and brushed my forehead with a large, gloved finger. "He's got your eyes."
I blinked up at him. And he blinked back.
For a moment, something passed between us. Not quite recognition, but… acceptance.
Then Clara said, "We should try to keep things calm for him. It's still early."
I tensed a little. I wanted to say so many things inside my head, but no words came. Just the knowledge that this was my new life now.
---
Days slipped by, and I slowly grew used to the rhythm of this home.
Erwin, my older brother, visited often. Even though he was only five, he was already unusually serious. Sometimes, he'd sit beside the crib and explain random things like:
"That's the bookshelf. Mama lets me borrow two books a week."
Or, "Don't cry too much. It makes Mama sad."
I wanted to laugh sometimes, but all I could manage was a squeaky coo or a soft kick.
Other times, Erwin would simply rest his head beside mine on the blanket and stay there quietly.
I'd never had a sibling in my past life.
Not by blood. Not by bond.
But now, Erwin was here. And even at five, he treated me like someone who mattered.
---
One afternoon, a visitor arrived. The door opened quietly, and in stepped a young girl about Erwin's age, with bright eyes and chestnut hair tied back loosely. She carried a large bag slung over one shoulder and wore simple but neat clothing.
"Hello," she said softly as Clara welcomed her warmly.
I watched her carefully, fascinated by her confident yet kind expression.
Erwin smiled a little and said, "This is Elias. He just arrived."
The girl crouched down to look into my crib and waved. "Hi, Elias. You're so small."
Her voice was gentle but held a strength I couldn't explain.
I wondered who she was. Why did she come here? And why did everyone treat her like family?
Something felt different about this world compared to what I remembered from the original story.
There were people here I hadn't expected. Names I recognized, yes—but their lives, their relationships, even the way they acted… it wasn't quite the same.
And I knew, somehow, this difference was important.
---
That night, I woke earlier than usual, sensing the house was unusually quiet. I heard low voices from the room down the hall—soft but serious.
Erwin's voice came first.
"Mama, is Elias really my little brother?"
"Of course he is," Clara answered softly. "You were so happy when he was born, remember?"
"But…" Erwin hesitated. "He doesn't look like me."
There was a pause. Then Clara laughed gently.
"You didn't look like Papa either at first. But family isn't just about looks. It's about who you protect."
Erwin didn't say anything for a long moment.
Then I heard his answer.
"Then I'll protect him. Always."
---
Back in my crib, staring at the wooden beams overhead, I thought about what I'd just heard.
In my old life, no one ever promised to protect me.
No one ever named me with love.
No one ever made me feel like I belonged.
But here…
For now, in this house, I had warmth.
A mother, a father, a brother who carried the weight of ideals he couldn't yet name.
And me?
I had time.
For now, I was just Elias Smith.
And that was enough.
---