The sun was still low over the training yard when Keith Shadis' voice cut sharply through the crisp morning air.
"Today, you will learn to move freely with your ODM gear! Balance, coordination, and reflexes are your lifelines. Fail here, and you fail out there. Understood?"
A chorus of nervous cadets muttered their agreements.
Alex tightened the straps of his gear, swinging his legs experimentally. The first attempt nearly ended with him flat on the dirt, a clumsy twist of his limbs throwing him off balance.
"Ah…" he murmured, tilting his head. "Body's not used to this yet… but nothing I can't handle."
Nearby, Eren Jaeger was in full struggle mode. His ODM gear shot him up into the air, but his timing was off. He twisted, flailed, and before anyone could blink, he ended up completely upside down, dangling by the cables, legs kicking helplessly.
Alex raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. "Ah… classic rookie maneuver. You're defying gravity… badly."
Eren shouted, flailing harder. "I—I can't—ahhh!"
Alex jogged over, analyzing the gear's movements. "Alright, relax. You're panicking, overcompensating… don't fight it, let it swing you—center yourself and use the momentum."
Mikasa stepped up, calm and precise. "Focus on your legs. Push off gently, then adjust. Don't fight the wires."
Armin added cautiously, "Yeah… time your swing. It's tricky, but you can do it. Just… steady."
Alex reached out subtly, adjusting a strap here, nudging a cable there—without taking control. Eren wobbled, still upside down, but didn't crash as quickly.
"See? You're not doomed yet," Alex muttered under his breath. "Just a little less flailing, a little more thinking… though dramatic upside-down entrances are entertaining."
Eren tried again, swinging forward… and hit the ground head-first with a loud thud. A small trickle of blood appeared on his forehead.
"Perfect," Alex whispered, smirking. "Learning through pain. My kind of lesson plan."
Mikasa and Armin helped him up immediately. "Stay still," Mikasa ordered, pressing gently on the wound.
"We need to patch him up. Come on," Armin added.
Alex walked alongside them, hands casually in his pockets. "Could've carried him in style, but teamwork looks better, right?"
The cadets sat clustered at one of the long tables, trays of brown stew and hard bread in front of them. Eren hunched over his bowl, face streaked with dirt and sweat from morning training. A faint wisp of smoke curled from the top of his head—his frustration made visible.
Nearby, cadets whispered and snickered.
"Hey, Eren," one said, elbowing a friend, "you said you'd kill all the Titans… looks like you can't even swing properly."
"Upside down, flailing like a fish," another muttered. "Maybe the Scouts aren't your thing."
Eren slammed a fist onto the table, making a small splash in his stew. "Shut up! I… I'm trying!"
He turned to Mikasa, desperation in his eyes. "What… what should I do? I can't—"
Mikasa's sharp gaze met his, calm but piercing. "If you keep struggling like this… maybe you should think about what you're doing. You don't want to keep putting yourself through this if it's not working."
Eren's jaw clenched. "Not working? I… I have to do this!"
A small curl of smoke flickered from his head as his frustration flared.
Alex, sitting beside him, stirred his stew lazily, white hair falling into one eye. He noticed the smoke, the tension in Eren's shoulders, and the frustrated gestures. Interesting… visual stress indicators. Classic rookie rage. Noted. He didn't comment—he preferred to let Eren stew for a moment.
After a beat, Alex leaned slightly forward, voice casual but teasing.
"Look… meatball. You're flailing upside down, freaking out, and yes—you're embarrassing yourself a little. But none of that is permanent. That's what practice looks like."
Eren blinked at him. "You… really think I can get it?"
Alex shrugged, poking at the stew with his spoon. "Probably. But perfection isn't the goal. Staying alive, learning the ropes, and maybe not terrifying the others with your acrobatics? That's the skill you want right now."
Mikasa's eyes softened slightly, still sharp. "Just… be honest with yourself. If this keeps happening, maybe consider if there's another way you could… contribute. Survive without getting yourself killed."
Eren exhaled sharply, frustration and determination warring within him. The faint smoke curled once more before fading.
Some of the cadets nearby continued whispering, chuckling.
"Classic Eren," one said. "All talk, no skill."
"Maybe he should stick to the food line," another muttered.
Alex glanced at the whisperers, smirk tugging at his lips. Chaos brewing. Perfect for growth… or entertainment. Either way, worthwhile.
He leaned closer to Eren, voice quieter this time. "Hey. Don't let the whispers get to you. You're making a mess of yourself, sure—but effort beats talent when everyone's flailing. Keep swinging. Or just make it entertaining for the rest of us."
Eren looked up, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "I… I'll try. I won't give up!"
Alex leaned back, satisfied. Mood stabilized. Confidence flickering. Mission: subtle morale boost—successful.
Around them, the cadets ate, whispered, laughed—some mocking, some sympathetic—but the tension had eased slightly. And Alex, eating his own food with exaggerated disgust, thought quietly: This world's broken… but people making it work anyway? Now that's interesting.
He took a bite of the bland stew, face twitching, and smirked faintly at Eren. Not my flavor… but morale isn't taste-dependent. Mission accomplished.
The morning sun stretched across the training yard as Keith Shadis' voice cut sharply through the crisp air.
"Today, each trainee gets one chance to demonstrate mastery of your ODM gear. Fail, and I expect improvement. Understood?"
A chorus of murmurs answered, a mix of nervousness and excitement.
Alex tightened his straps casually, letting his legs swing experimentally.
Not fully his own frame, but the hum beneath his skin reminded him he still had something up his sleeve. Not full strength yet… but enough to read the patterns.
Eren's jaw was set, hands gripping the gear straps like he was holding on for dear life. Mikasa and Armin flanked him silently, watching. Alex leaned against the fence post, smirking faintly. Ohhh, this is going to be delicious. Rookie panic, high stakes… bonus entertainment points.
At Shadis' nod, Eren launched. For a heartbeat, his swing looked… competent. Then chaos struck.
Alex tilted his head, eyes narrowing. A faint shimmer traced across his irises as he tracked the ODM cables. Hmm… tension's off, angles are wrong… rookie's fine, setup's the problem. Historia, nearby, blinked at the faint glow in his eyes. Did… she really see that? Probably just the sunlight.
Eren's swing faltered, and suddenly he was upside down, flailing like a fish out of water.
Alex muttered under his breath, amused. Classic. I'll give him points for style, zero for landing intact.
Mikasa leaned close, calm as ever. "Relax. Don't fight the movement. Focus on your legs and timing."
Armin added softly, "Yeah… one smooth motion. Don't panic."
Alex's gaze flicked back to the cables. Not the kid—it's the gear. A minor misalignment, and suddenly gravity's got jokes at his expense. He suppressed a laugh. Rookie mistakes are fun… until someone actually breaks a bone.
Walking over to Shadis, Alex said casually, hands in pockets, "Sir… if he goes again, he'll keep losing balance. The right-side gear's slightly off. With your permission, I can let him try mine."
Shadis raised an eyebrow. "Your gear? You think that'll help?"
Alex shrugged, eyes twinkling. "Minor tweak, huge difference. Trust me. I'm generous today."
Shadis considered, then nodded. "Fine. Carefully."
Alex handed his ODM set to Eren. "Here. Try again. Relax. Flow with it. Don't fight it."
Eren gripped the straps, took a deep breath, and launched. This time, swing was smoother. Upside-down moves were controlled, dramatic instead of disastrous.
Alex leaned back, smirking. Rookie chaos stabilized, mechanics corrected. Much better. He could almost hear the universe sigh in relief.
Historia's eyes flicked toward him, catching that faint shimmer again. Blink. Was that… nothing? Yeah, probably nothing.
Cadets murmured, impressed. Shadis barked sharply, "Good! Proper execution! Well done, Jaeger."
Alex stretched lazily, letting the subtle hum of his power fade. Body's light, reflexes slightly off… perception? Perfect. Not full power yet, but enough to see the truth.
He watched Eren swing one last time, determination clear in the boy's expression. Potential… predictable rookie patterns. Definitely entertaining. Maybe I'll let him keep flailing a bit tomorrow… for science.
Alex smirked. Rookie survived. Gear fixed. Drama intact. And me? Still ridiculously underutilized.
The yard fell quiet for a moment as Eren's swing finally flowed. Forward, back, a controlled turn, and—he landed. Solid. Upright. Hands gripping the cables, chest heaving.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then cadets erupted—cheers, claps, even some surprised whistles. Jean's jaw loosened, Mikasa's eyes softened in rare approval, and Armin's thoughtful gaze practically glowed.
Eren blinked, a mix of disbelief and pride on his face. "I… I did it?"
Alex leaned casually against a nearby post, arms crossed, smirking faintly. "Yep. You didn't fall flat on your face. Bonus: not a single inverted catastrophe this time. Well done."
Eren's shoulders sagged, then lifted again as a grin broke across his face. "Thanks… Alex! I—I couldn't have done it without you!"
Alex waved a hand lazily, pretending modesty. "Pfft. Don't thank me. I just gave you a slightly better chance at not embarrassing yourself. That's all. Pure generosity."
Mikasa glanced at him, eyebrow raised, lips twitching. Alex caught it and gave a small, mischievous smirk under his mask of casual indifference.
Around them, cadets continued cheering, some still teasing, but the tension of yesterday's failures had melted. Energy was high, morale restored.
Alex let his gaze drift over the yard, watching the gear cables sway, the trainees laughing, shouting, swinging. He flexed his fingers slowly, feeling the subtle hum of cursed energy beneath his skin.
Not full strength yet—not even close—but enough to know. To feel. The patterns, the vibrations, the subtle misalignments in the world… he could read them. He could act.
And that was enough.
The child's body was limiting, but the power was still there. Waiting. Patient. Growing with him.
A small, lazy chuckle escaped him. Huh. Rookie success, chaos controlled, morale intact.
His thoughts drifted—half amusement, half calculation. Yeah… this body is weak. Too light, too small. Can't push it the way I normally would. Every day? Gonna have to train it. Push it. Build it up. Get used to these bones, these muscles. Make it strong enough so the fun can really begin.
He looked at Eren, laughing with Mikasa and Armin, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with accomplishment. He almost felt… protective. Not because he had to, but because the kid had potential, and that raw determination… fun to watch.
Daily training. Patience. Subtle use of my power until this body can handle the real show. Yeah… that'll be interesting.
A thought tugged at the corner of his mind, familiar and comforting: Brain still sharp. Perception still perfect. Power's still here, just… waiting for the body to catch up. And when it does… oh, they won't know what hit them.
Alex smirked quietly to himself. Tomorrow, they swing again. More chaos, more testing, more of this fun little world colliding with mine.
For now, he let it settle. Watching. Observing. Smiling faintly under the surface.
The power was there. He just needed to keep training this fragile little body every day. Make it fit. Make it capable. Make it… unstoppable.
And he would.
Soon.
The cheers of trainees echoed in the yard, laughter and excitement mixing with the morning sun. Alex Satoru, stro
ngest sorcerer in a child's body, let himself relax a little. He'd stepped into a new world, with new limits, new rules, and new chaos….
…and he was already enjoying it.