01. Needle and Thread

https://youtu.be/e9-qLNwwkmE (music advised but not required)

"Do you know of the Sokea Warrior?"

"I heard they're insane."

"Part of the scout regiment right?"

"I don't believe it, they couldn't be real."

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Even in a glamorous capital, there lied a dark and twisted area. A vast underground living space beneath the towns that surround the capital. The underground district. A failed society now engulfed in poverty where most never see the light of day.

Here people fought to survive, many were drunken slobs, and dying young was expected.

More so, people less than others were cast aside or killed at birth. If you were found to have something wrong or your inability to affected others, life was hell.

The silence of the day was rarely broken with the sounds of screaming. However, the screaming that filled the air tonight was different. It was the scream of a mother's pain.

The screams seemed to last a lifetime. Some sympathized, others paid no mind to the cries.

Then nothing.

The silence grew again, only to be replaced by the wailing of a newborn.

A new child who would shine brighter than the rest. A being who would struggle immensely just to survive. A warrior destined for greatness.

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*slap*

"WHY!"

*slap*

"CAN'T YOU!"

*slap*

"DO ANYTHING!*

*slap*

"RIGHT!"

*slap*

A father panted slightly and his hang stung from impact. He stared with rage down at his emaciated child.

The young girl didn't make a sound, only stinging, silent tears trickled down her cheek.

"You worthless little slime! You're lucky your mother was so kind as to keep you alive!" the man grumbled. "You're a waste of food and can't even do simple work!"

"I'm sorry." the girl mumbled. She wasn't entirely sure what she had done wrong. Why was she treated like this? It was a mystery to her.

"Now get up before your mother gets home and finish fixing my vest." the father ordered.

"Yes father," the child breathed out in a shaky voice.

The (h/c) girl felt her way through her house until she made it to the study. Within the room were a large desk, materials for sewing, art canvases, paint, and a spindle.

The girl crawled on the ground as to not hit anything, and made her way over to the desk. She sat down on the chair and felt around on the desk for the fabric she was working on before. She felt around for the needle and thread on the desk until she pricked her finger on the sharp end of a needle.

She didn't cry out or acknowledge the pain, for she was used to the pain. Every day she worked to sew clothes and fabrics. It was how her family made money and scraped up food. They exploited their only child and made her work endlessly to supply goods.

Having done this from the moment she could walk, the (h/c) girl could sew anything, and the pricks of needles only felt like a feather tickling skin.

The girl felt around the vest's fabric until she found the hole she was meant to fix. She grabbed the scissors on her right and began to cut the access string spewing from the rip. She got to work quickly, her hands working as though they had for decades, guiding the needle smoothly from her fingertips.

In just about two minutes the young girl had sewn shut the large rip perfectly, hiding all of the stitches within the fabric.

"I believe it is done. Now to hand it to father." the girl said with no emotion covering her words.

She stood up and wobbled out of the study, bumping into walls and chairs along the way. Though she had memorized the path around her house, things were always being rearranged and misplaced. Often thugs would break into the house to steal work and profits. Since the small girl's family was one of the only semi-functional establishments in the Underground, it was targeted greatly.

The girl found herself just outside her household, her father was sitting on the eroding steps smoking.

"Ah you finished brat, good." the father said as he got up. He harshly grabbed his vest out of the girl's hand, causing her to lose balance and fall forward.

She, unfortunately, fell onto her father's side, though she was skinny and frail so the impact didn't do much.

Suddenly the father slapped the girl away, throwing her into the door frame. "DAMN BRAT! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!" he yelled.

"I'm sorry." the girl mumbled.

"SPEAK UP!" the father yelled again.

"I'm sorry." the girl said, slightly louder.

" 'tch' You didn't even clean up the dirt on my vest either, disgraceful."

The small girl lifted her head in the direction of her father's voice. Her eye's blank, both pupil and iris white. No light perception whatsoever, but her eyes vibrated as if they were trying to find something to see. Though it was no use, they couldn't.

Her eyes carried such a heavy feeling of sorrow, pain, and remorse. They also carried the understanding, the understatement of what the girl truly felt. She felt like a failure and a burden, but she couldn't see any of it, the pain she unfittingly caused her family, the work she created, and the world around her.

Sokea

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Well, the first chapter is done! A bit depressing when I read it back with the music playing... though I think it fits perfectly. I know it is fairly short, but I just needed somewhere to start. I'm not good at reader inserts, especially since the reader in this is not aware that AOT is an anime, unlike my other story. ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoyed it and there weren't that many mistakes I missed.

It's funny, so many times I almost wrote "she stared" "she glanced" "the view" XD

<3