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The Red Scarf: Part 1 (TG)

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Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or it's characters that might be mentioned in this story and the following chapters.

*

Dylan hit the ground as pain flooded his cheek. A hulking behemoth with curly chestnut hair lurched over him with a grin Dylan wanted to wipe off.

“Think you can just bail on my homework like that you dweeb?” The behemoth known as Aaron snarled. It was just Dylan's luck that after managing to avoid the brute for most of the afternoon, now he would bump into him. His only mistake was trying a shortcut that no one else was using and assuming Aaron would be too stupid to not know about it. Whenever someone didn't do something for that lazy jock, he made sure they meant it. And it had to be whilst Eric was away too.

Dylan wiped his lip, “I-it's n-not my homework to d-do. Do it yourself.” The meek voice that came out didn't really intimidate his opponent.

The behemoth- Aaron- frowned and picked all 158cm (5'2) of Dylan off the ground. “Well, maybe I don't want to!” His green eyes were fierce with anger, which Dylan could only flinch at. “Coach says I can't make the team unless my grades improve. You know what it's like for me?”

Dylan was shaking in the bully's presence. For over a year Aaron had made his life misery. Then again, being smart and incredibly short for his age was always going to make Dylan bully bait. As soon as Aaron first discovered him, he started pestering him to do his work. Dylan refused, only for Aaron to start threatening with force. Many times Dylan tried to report the incidents at school, but because Aaron was a star of the rugby team and had a father amongst the staff, he always got off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist.  Eventually Dylan just accepted it and anticipated the moment he would run into the brute. Perhaps the only thing that saved him from constant beatings was his friend Eric, but he wasn't here today.

And it wasn't like Aaron's threats were hollow. It was now common folklore in the school that during a game of rugby, he had tackled a man so hard, the opponent ended up in a coma for a week. Maybe it was exaggerated, but the only reason Aaron hadn't been suspended was because his father had convinced the principal that it was an accident.

Aaron throttled Dylan by the collar. “Still not talking, huh?”

Dylan tried to muster up all his courage and spit out an insult. In his head the message was loud and clear, enough to shock Aaron. In reality though, it was so quiet that Aaron barely heard it.

“Sorry, what was that?” Aaron's grip was tighter.

“I-I s-said-” but Dylan didn't finish the sentence, partially because of the fear that had gripped him and partially because Aaron had already thrown him back on the ground. He heard some idiotic laughter, no doubt coming from Aaron's lanky sidekick Gareth, who was an idiot compared to Aaron but just as dangerous. Gareth tended to do anything for Aaron and wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. As if to prove this point, the giggling idiot kicked Dylan in the stomach with manic glee before Aaron had to hold his friend back.

Aaron looked at Dylan's pained body, “Now, are you gonna do it, or do you need more 'convincing'?”

Dylan was pissed at this guy, but with the pain in his ribs he didn't have the heart to fight back. It was best to surrender than to get absolutely killed for refusing. “Fine.” He wheezed, “I'll do it.”

A couple of workbooks were dropped in the patch of dirt nearby. “You got until Friday, short stuff.  And try and copy my handwriting. Dad almost chewed me out last time.”

“Yeah,” Gareth idiotically joined in, and then kicked him in the guts just for good measure. The two bigger boys walked away laughing, leaving Dylan's crushed body in the dirt.

Dylan coughed and wheezed, the tears falling from his eyes. He felt like he had betrayed himself.  When Eric had been hospitalised after 'that' incident, hadn't he promised himself that he would try and stand tall? And he was so close too! He had managed to talk back instead of cowering, tried not to succumb to pressure, and it was STILL not enough. Why was he such a spineless coward!

Tears stained onto the dirt below him as he got up, and shoved the dust-covered books into his backpack. Wiping more tears, he trudged off, too lost in his despair to notice a figure had accidentally evesdropped on the fight.

The figure looked at his dejected form and then for reasons only known to them, decided to follow him.

*

For the longest time, Dylan stood in front of the hospital doors, his fingernails biting into the palm of his hand. He felt so small and frail standing there, but he'd promised Eric that he would visit him today.

“Just don't tell him what happened.” He told himself and then stepped inside.

Sitting on a bed was a tall, bespectacled blonde teen with his arm in a sling. Dylan didn't need X-Ray vision to know there was a cast on the boy's leg too. “Hey” he said with a wane smile.

“Hey,” Dylan tried to keep a straight face, but immediately he noticed how Eric furrowed his brow at him.

“Did that asshole get you again?”

Dylan sighed. He'd hoped Eric wouldn't notice the bruise. “Yes.” He sighed defeatedly, his eyes on the verge of welling up once more.

Eric struggled to reach his good arm to Dylan. “C'mon, don't be such a crybaby.” He tried to pat him in the shoulder for encouragement.

“I can't help it!” Dylan cried, “He's like the Colossal Titan! How am I supposed to stand up to him!”

Eric winced a laugh, getting the reference. “Just hold on a little more. As soon as I'm out of here then BAM! I'm back to protect my buddy!”

Dylan gave a meek chuckle.  Despite his best intentions, Eric was a shit fighter, and seemed to come off the worse for wear. But that what perhaps drew Dylan to Eric in the first place. For as long as he knew him Eric was always trying to punch above his weight. Yet the comment only made Dylan elicit a few more tears. It wasn't all about not to getting his friend worried. It was more about how his cowardice had caused Eric's condition to begin with.

A couple of weeks prior, they were dashing to a shopping centre, hoping the newest volume of their favourite manga had arrived. They were crossing a road, when Dylan tripped. At that moment a car started to speed toward him, the driver distracted. Dylan saw the car but froze at the wrong time, as if his muscles refused to obey him. Just then, a blur came by and knocked him out of the car's path,  followed by a sickening thud.

Dylan knew what had followed: seeing his friend slumped on the road, the ambulances that arrived to pick him up, the tears he cried when Eric's life was in the balance. Instead he blanked it out. Even though it was an accident, Dylan saw it as his fault. If he hadn't been so weak-willed, Eric wouldn't be stuck here right now.

Eric sensed the stifling guilt in the room and tried to lighten it. “You don't have the new volume do you?”

“Yeah.” Dylan searched through his bag and handed over a volume of a manga, featuring a familiar band of young soldiers sporting brown jackets and long blades clutched in their hands. The words 'Attack on Titan' boldly stood out on the cover.“I was meaning to read it. The last issue ended on such a cliffhanger.”

“Hey, no spoilers!” Eric laughed. Together, the two then enjoyed the book together, looking at how the people of Eren Jeager's world lived in fear from their own behemoths, but were willing to fight back regardless of the odds.

They sat through the tense action, moaned at another death, and marvelled at the sheer awesomeness of the characters. Both agreed that Levi was pretty cool and Eren had his moments, but hands down their favourite was Mikasa Ackerman. Eric thought she was a “fine bit of ass”, then again, all girls in anime were like that to him. Whilst Dylan did have similar opinions on her beauty, he also admired the way she effortlessly cut down the opposition with her red scarf flying behind her, and her determination to protect the ones she loved. It reminded Dylan a lot of Eric,who was never afraid to stand up for his friends, and wished he could have an ounce of both their courage.

“Hey, bud, you alright?” Eric spoke mid-chapter. Dylan realised he had been crying again.

“Oh, yeah.” He wiped his eyes. “Just lost in thought.”

*

Unbeknownest to them both, the figure that had followed Dylan sat quietly outside. The moment they had seen Dylan, they got the strangest feeling about the young man. The figure had sensed that the short boy needed help, but now was certain from the evesdropping that the little guy was lacking confidence. And he happened to be an anime fan, so that was a happy coincidence.

Quietly, the figure left the hallway and went to an empty toilet stall. After making sure the coast was clear, they sat on the toilet and took out an item.

“I hope this works.” The figure said as the object glowed.

“Artefact,” the person pleaded, “Please awaken the warrior that will help guide the soul named Dylan.”

Suddenly, there was a light which flashed, and then an object appeared that the figure immediately recognised. Followed by a nervous gulp. Obviously this was NOT what the figure had expected.

“O-kay?”

*

Dylan trudged home that night, knowing that there was a pile of homework left in front of him, half of which wasn't even his. Just the unfairness of it all reminded him of a line a certain fictional character had once said:

“This world is cruel.”

It couldn't be more true to his life than anyone else. He hadn't meant to get his friend hurt. Nor did he ever want someone to take advantage of him just because he was smart. Yet both were realities that haunted his soul and he felt like he was paying the price.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the figure ahead of him until it was too late. “Sorry.” He heard a girl say, before noticing something fall onto the pavement. He stopped and looked down. It was a red woollen scarf. The small part of him immediately thought of Mikasa the moment he saw it, thinking how it was always around her neck as if a part of her.

Playing the role of nice guy, he turned to the retreating figure (the only person who could've dropped it) and called out to her.

The girl turned and he almost blushed seeing her. She wasn't model pretty. Rather she was quite a plain girl, perhaps his age. Her face was blemished by a couple of pimples and a hook nose which was where her glasses perched themselves. Her hair was in a shaggy bob, as if she didn't care about neatness. Somehow though, there was a charm to her that just appealed to him somehow. She wore a jacket and jeans and some novelty shirt with a catchphrase he couldn't quite read that made her body quite shapeless and hard to determine if it was curvy or svelte. A lime green fanny pack wrapped around her waist. He'd never seen her at his school, so she must have been from elsewhere.

“Yeah?” She asked innocently.

“Y-you dropped this.”

She looked at him puzzledly, “Really? But I don't have a scarf like that. Kinda looks cool though. Like Mikasa's.”

His jaw almost dropped. “You-you know her?”

The girl smiled and opened up her shirt which said 'KEEP CALM AND WATCH ANIME'. “Of course. Every fan must have seen that show by now. Still, it isn't mine.”

“Really? But I'm sure you-”

The girl started to walk away. “Don't worry. Keep it. It might come in handy on those cold winter nights. The kind of nights that require courage and strength.” There was something about those last words that seemed out of place. Like she was giving him a hint. Was that her intention?

Again he called out to her, but she didn't respond. A part of him wanted to follow her, perhaps in the hope of getting to know her better. But she was already out of sight by the time he took a step forward. Knowing it was getting late anyway, he gave up and turned for home. As he did he examined the scarf and felt mesmerised by the radiant colour that wafted against the orange light of dusk. His fingers traced along the material, but felt nothing but wool fibres to suggest that it was some sort of prank.

After some internal debate he decided that if nothing else, at least he had something for those long winter nights, That settled, he tucked the scarf into his schoolbag.

*

In the meantime, the girl looked back at the boy retreating away. “Excellent.” She grinned, “Looks like I'm going to help someone after all. I just hope he doesn't mind my 'gift' too much.”

*

That night, Dylan was finding himself reading the textbook Aaron had given him. It was a little advanced, but he gathered enough to understand what he was dealing with. There was a reason he had good enough grades, after all. Yet it depressed him that the only reason he was doing this was because of his cowardice.

Still it wasn't like he could tell his mother about his bully problems. Sure, he knew she must have known something about it. His bruised cheek would've been hard enough to hide. Plus, ever since his Dad died, she'd become more concerned for his well-being, as the many text messages on his cell after school would suggest. Despite all of that though, he didn't want her to fight his battles. He already got enough crap on how he was short AND a nerd. He didn't need people picking on him as a Mama's boy too.

His eyes wandered to the scarf that was halfway out of his backpack, trailing the ground like a crimson snake. In his thoughts he'd forgotten about the scarf, and that strange encounter with that girl. He rose from his chair and shuffled to the item, picking it up with his hands.

It seemed in good condition, like the kind that had been bought from the store, and yet it was that particular shade of red that got him thinking. Like blood.

Come to think of it, was it always this warm?

Not warm in the sense that it has been put through the dryer, but warm in that it seemed to be heating up in his hands. Like sunbeams after a rainstorm, it seeped from his hands right down to his arms, torso, and then head.

A voice called to him, “Put me on.”

Dylan almost dropped the scarf and looked around. Surely he hadn't heard that. It was night time, after all. Maybe he was so tired he didn't know what reality was.

With a growing curiosity, he brought the scarf around his neck, the fabric touching with flesh.

BA-DUM

His head pulsed, as a flash of memory flickered through him. As a single voice, which sounded slightly European, but also American called out to him “I was once like you too...”

* *

Bodies. Dead bodies. Pools of blood soaked on the floor around her. Just like at home. A large man in the corner of the room. He was choking the small boy in the red scarf.

“Fight!” The boy screamed at her, his blue eyes burning with passion. “Fight or we won't live!”

On the floor was a knife, blood caked on the blade. She glanced at the dying boy. He needed to be saved, or else there would be no hope. But it seemed like such cruel thing to do. What if she screwed up? She shook in fear...

No. This world was cruel. Mum, Dad, they were never coming back. All because of the cruelty of these men. Either she killed or they would kill her. Or worse.

“FIGHT!”

She leapt, the knife in her small hands embedding into the man's back.

* *

Dylan faded back into consciousness, frightened out of his wits. Something about that scene looked familiar...

Then he saw a light in front of him. A light that started to grow brighter and brighter.

“GAH!” He dropped the scarf and suddenly the light vanished. His heart pounding he took a few breaths. “What the fuck was that?” would be an understatement. And not just the light that appeared. The images still sat in his mind, all blood and dead bodies. What kind of fucked up vision was that? And why did it look familiar?

Just then, the door opened. “Are you alright?” His mother, her hair pulled back with a hairband, poked the top half of her body through the door.

“Y-yeah.” He quickly got up, trying to process what to say. Then he realised that what he just saw seemed too farfetched. A ghost in his room? What was he, five? “J-just thought I saw a spider.”

His mother lingered at the doorway. It seemed she wanted to say something. “You sure?” She asked.

“Y-yeah.”

She looked at him silently, “You seem a bit...down lately. This isn't about the accident, is it?”

His body deflated. "No."

Suddenly, a pair of comforting arms were around him. “It alright. It wasn't your fault. We've discussed this.”

Dylan's body suddenly felt heavier. “It is.” He mumbled.

Her hand guided along his head. “You weren't the one driving the car, and I'm sure others would have panicked if they were in your shoes.”

Dylan really wanted to believe that. He knew what she was saying was truth, but that small nagging feeling kept eating him in the back of his head. Again he had to be saved. He was just the same weak, pathetic boy he always was. And it made him sick.

The scarf just lay limply on the floor, showing no sign of spinning a surprise on him.

*

Dylan was just about tired when he trudged to school the next morning, bags hanging heavily under his eyes. After that strange vision, he barely got any sleep, fearing those images would come back. He didn't even touch the scarf, afraid of what it might do if he touched it again. What bugged him more still was that the scene just felt familiar. But why?

Alas, he couldn't even contact the girl from last night, since she never even claimed the scarf was hers to begin with let alone an address or phone number.

For most of the day, he barely kept up with anything. Unlike his usual studious self, he couldn't pay attention to class. At one point he almost smacked his head on the desk due to his tiredness, and was only saved with the realisation that sleep might mean another nightmare.

It accumulated during a history lesson, whilst the teacher was giving a lecture. Normally his best subject, Dylan was lost in his eternal struggle to stay awake that the teacher had to call out his name four times just to get a reply. It was only a nudge from a neighbouring classmate that he reacted.

“BLOOD!” He screamed in surprise before realising that whole class was staring at him. A couple snickered. The teacher didn't look impressed. Dylan immediately apologised and after giving them an answer, sat back down.

After class the teacher, Mrs Winterbottom asked him to stay back. After adjusting her worksheets, she swept a few locks of her dyed-black curly hair and adjusted her glasses which were hiding grey eyes.

“Are you alright?” Her stern tone didn't exactly set much promise with him. Then again, she was always known to be hard but fair with her pupils.

“I am.” He insisted.

“I'm aware your friend isn't here right now since the accident.” She said, “Could your little outburst have something to do-”

“No!” He insisted, “I just didn't get enough sleep last night.”

Those stony eyes continued to judge him. “That's unlike you. Sure you weren't spending study time doing,” her glared hardened as is rehearsed, “something else?”

“I just had a bad dream, Madam.” Even Dylan had to admit that he couldn't buy his own lie, which technically was the truth.

“I see.” Her lips pursed as if she had sucked a lemon. “I'll let it slide. Just don't try and repeat it.”

“Alright.” He gave an eager nod and rushed out the room before he could find new ways to get into trouble.

*

The trip back to the hospital was quite a nervous time. Even if Thursday was a training day for Aaron's rugby team, Dylan still navigated his way out of class cautiously in case they felt like 'reminding' him again.

He scanned his surroundings, looked around sharp corners before moving ahead, took precautionary looks around his shoulder in case they ambushed him from behind. He walked along packs of people, hoping his small size would be enough camouflage amongst the students. By the time he was at the entrance he felt a bit more relaxed as he had not seen either of his foes. Relieved he had managed to get out of school grounds, he started to relax, thinking that maybe things wouldn't be so bad...

“BOO!”

Dylan just about jumped at Aaron's large frame which had jumped from a hedge next to the school. Aaron laughed. “Ha ha! Sucked in!”

Dylan trembled at his oppressor. Looking around to see that just about everyone was too preoccupied in going home to help. “H-how?”

“I thought you might try and take the font way. I had Gareth take a look out at the back.” His grin was like a cat that had caught a goldfish.

Dylan nervously giggled, “Nice trick, but I really got to do your homework and...”

“You still haven't finished it?” Aaron crossed his arms.

“Well, it is a lot.” Dylan insisted.

Aaron kicked the bush behind him. “Dammit, I sat out here for nothing, Coach is gonna fucking kill me now.”

Dylan tried to pick himself up. “I'll have it by tomorrow if you-”

Suddenly Aaron gave him a glare. “You better.” Aaron's tone hid a bit of menace as he suddenly picked Dylan onto his feet. Dylan stared at him, noting how in the light Aaron's reddish-brown hair resembled his own personal aura. “Or else...” an awkward couple of seconds wafted over them, as Aaron suddenly bent over to Dylan's ear. Dylan's heart pounded, waiting for the dreaded sound that would break the tension.

“Bang!” Aaron whispered, before chuckling to himself and giving a mocking wave goodbye to his victim. Dylan was left standing on his own, bewildered.

Dylan was glad he was gone, but now the thought of tomorrow just about sucked whatever energy he had left.

*

When Dylan visited Eric that night he told him about the scarf. If there was one person he could confide in, it was his friend.

“A scarf?” Eric said between mouthfuls of a jelly snack he'd saved from lunch. “A scarf made you see a ghost? Sure Aaron didn't beat you one too many times?”

“I know what it sounds like,” Dylan defended himself. “But it really happened.”

Eric couldn't help but make a guffaw. “Sure, and I'm the King of the Pirates.”

“I know what I saw.” Dylan mumbled to himself. “And she talked too.”

“That could've been the girl talking.” Eric gave wry smile. “I mean she gives you a scarf and then sneaks to your window and makes scary ghost noises. That's some fucked up shit there.”

“She wasn't even from our school!” Dylan snapped back. “Why would she follow someone like me?”

“Listen, just admit it was your brain playing tricks.” Eric scooped the last of his jelly into his mouth. “Though the vision you had does sound awfully familiar.”

“You think?”

“Yeah...” Eric closed his eyes, the way he always did when in deep thought. “Let's see. Boy in the corner being strangled. A young child stabbing the man to save him...”

“Don't forget the scarf.”

Eric opened his eyes and gave a sneaky grin. Dylan looked at him funny. “What?”

Eric grinned. “That was a scene from Attack on Titan.”

“What?”

“The scene. That was when Eren and Mikasa first met. You seriously didn't see that? Man, you must have anime on the brain or something.”

At first that didn't seem to make sense to Dylan. Why would it be a scene from that show? For one thing it wasn't even animated and there was no way he could see any girl in the scene.

But then he compared his vision to the scene in question and suddenly it made sense.

The boy in the scarf. That WAS Eren. He looked like a regular kid you'd see anywhere in the street but those bright blue-green eyes were a dead give-away. If one were to rotoscope him, then the resemblance was uncanny. Plus, there was no Mikasa in the vision because Dylan was her. It confused him why he would see things from her point of view but who else would've had the knife? For Christ sake, he particularly remembered her mentioning “This world is cruel” like in the series. How did he miss that?

But what else had she said before then? “I was once like you too.”

That particular line rang through him like a bell. He'd been so used to watching the Japanese subs that he forgot there had been a dub recently. Come to think of it, that American version of Mikasa DID sound a lot like that voice. More importantly, it was talking to him. HIM!

“Dylan?”

“Huh?”

“You were out of it for a bit. Did something come over you?”

Dylan looked at Eric. He couldn't tell him what he realised. It seemed too left field to accept as truth. To tell him now would come off as a joke. “Yeah,” he laughed, “I-I just remembered something. I need to go.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” Dylan looked at his watch, “I was supposed to do an errand before Mum came home. She's probably already back and having a fit as we speak.”

“Just don't see any ghosts on the way.” Eric called over to him. Dylan didn't stop to make a witty comeback.

(To be continued...)
Since there is a lot of story to cover, I will post it in sections whilst I give it time to edit. In the meantime, I've been curious at the lack of Attack on Titan-themed tg's so I might try and start rectifying it a bit. I think you've already guessed from the title, but what can I say?

The idea of artefacts turning people into anime characters was inspired by the 'Journal of a Demi-god' series janusdaguardian42.deviantart.c… by :iconjanusdaguardian42:. I'm thinking of leaving things open at the end of this story in case I want to tg more characters into anime girls, BUT that will depend if I still have the interest in continuing this universe. I think what might prevent me is that I haven't thought things too far ahead.

Anyway, hope you enjoy and please await future volumes.
© 2015 - 2024 apsm
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