"Lillian, you're amazing." That evening in the mess hall, Krista looked at him with admiration.
She glanced cautiously at Annie sitting farther away and whispered, "I didn't expect you could beat Annie—she's really strong!"
"Well, he's still a man, after all." Ymir, leaning on one hand, teased Lillian with a playful look. "Right?"
"If I said 'no,' would you still want to inspect me?" Lillian replied.
"Huh? I wouldn't—what if my eyes went blind?"
"Those tiny eyes of yours, blind or not, makes no difference."
"Small as they are, they're still bigger than what you want me to check."
The two traded barbs, and although Krista was innocent, she wasn't completely clueless; she'd long since caught the insinuation behind their words. Her small face flushed bright red.
"Hey!" she hissed at them. "Stop saying that!"
"Oh my…" Ymir turned to look at her, raised a hand to touch Krista's cheek, felt the heat there and immediately smiled. "Krista's shy~"
"Ymir!"
"Sorry, sorry." Ymir put her hands together apologetically, then leaned close to Krista's ear and murmured, "Don't worry — if I'm doing any inspecting, I'll only inspect you."
"..."
Krista covered her cheek, unable to withstand the teasing.
Lillian said calmly, "Krista, ignore her. Eat quickly — it'll get cold soon."
"Sigh, someone only knows how to care about Krista, but not the other person at the table." Ymir bit into her bread and sighed.
"I think that other person's fine — she doesn't need anyone else fussing over her."
As they talked, men at nearby tables kept glancing over. When they looked at Krista their eyes held admiration; when they looked at Ymir their expressions were wary; when they looked at Lillian it was naked jealousy. Over the past three years Krista had successfully shown her gentle, caring side, and the members of the 104th saw her as a little angel — and angels shouldn't be sharing a table with other men!
Protest! Strong protest!
They thought, but none dared actually say it to Lillian.
It wasn't for any other reason than that over these three years his performance had become increasingly outstanding. He might not be one of the absolute brightest, but he was in the first batch — and, most importantly, his superhuman strength was obvious. His experience fighting wild wolves made his otherwise gentle face seem like it carried an aura of danger; better not to mess with him.
Besides, it wasn't that Lillian was "hogging" Krista. He had originally eaten alone, but after the mountain training they became a table of three.
Because Krista wanted to keep an eye on him, she sat with him at every meal; Ymir merely followed Krista. Two months later Lillian finally took off the bandages — in fact, his wounds had healed within a week, but he'd kept the bandages on to avoid attention.
Even after he recovered, perhaps out of habit, Krista still sat with him, and Ymir naturally did the same.
And so, three years drifted by.
Lillian and Ymir sparred verbally almost every day, with exchanges ranging from teasing and mockery to personal attacks, cold silence and even physical tiffs; they covered almost everything. Krista, who had at first tried to moderate them, gave up long ago and simply watched quietly, occasionally interjecting.
She could handle insults and mockery, but today's commentary — she couldn't take. That, of course, was no match for Lillian and Ymir — one a former shut-in and the other an "old woman."
"Marco!"
Jean's loud voice suddenly rang out from one side. The three looked up to see him slap Marco's head and say, "Stop putting on an act — tell us your true feelings! You want to join the Military Police because the interior has a comfortable, safe life, right?"
"No! I—"
Marco tried to protest, but Eren raised his voice: "The interior is comfortable?" he said coldly. "Five years ago, this was the interior too."
"What are they talking about?" Krista felt the sudden tension over there and grew worried.
"Just choices after graduation," Lillian bit his bread and said. "Military Police, Garrison, Survey Corps, that kind of thing."
"Oh?" Ymir looked at him. "What do you want to choose, shorty?"
"I'm realistic," Lillian said calmly. "I won't be top ten in overall grades, so I don't have much choice."
"No, no, no." Ymir laughed twice. "Even if you take 'Military Police' off the table, there's still 'Garrison' and 'Survey Corps.' Who said you have no right to choose?"
Lillian looked at her, then at Krista, and changed the subject.
"You'll probably go with Krista's choice."
"Of course!" Ymir answered without hesitation. "Of course I'll stay with my little cutie. If she's not by my side, what if someone like you, with bad intentions, shows up?"
"..."
"Ymir!" Krista pinched her arm, a little embarrassed. "Lillian isn't like that!"
"You're still young, little cutie — men are all the same."
"Let's not get hung up on your labeling all men that way." Lillian said, then asked, "Suppose Krista ranks in the top ten and you don't. If she chooses the Military Police, how would you follow her there?"
Ymir's expression went stiff.
"Only the top ten can be 'recommended' straight into the Military Police. Others who want to join must first serve in a Garrison unit for several years. With experience, merit, or achievements, they can then file a report and apply to transfer into the Military Police. Think about it—that's years."
"…I want to strangle you."
"Don't. I'm a 'man'." Lillian half-smiled, half-mocked. "Right? After all, in the presence of the noble Ymir-sama, 'man' is just a label—every man with that label is the same: strong and suspicious."
"Pft!"
Krista couldn't help but giggle, and the next second saw Ymir clench her teeth in anger. Krista quickly soothed her: "Ymir, don't be mad… actually, I want to be with you too. Which Corps do you want to join? I'll go with you — I don't mind either way."
"Krista…" Ymir suddenly hugged her. "That's my little cutie, as expected!"
"You pervert!!"
"Shut up! This is reality!"
A shout broke out, interrupting the three of them. They looked over and saw the earlier argument had escalated — Eren and Jean were grabbing each other by the collars, on the verge of a full-on brawl.