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For months, Eren’s favourite place on the ship has been right against the railing, looking out into the horizon. Back to the rest of the crew working on the deck. It always brings him peace and calm—or, it used to.
Now? Now, it’s different.
Eren stands on the deck, his hands gripping the railing, his knuckles white against the rough wood, nothing serene about the action. The waves roll endlessly beneath him, carrying the scent of salt and something else—a lingering tang of blood from the recent battle. His heart’s still racing from the fight. Jean had been teaching him swordplay again, almost their own little routine now; in the afternoons, when it all happened, their banter cut short by the arrival of another ship.
He’s never seen a real battle before, let alone fought in one. Now, with the adrenaline waning, a hollow ache settles in him.
“Ship approaching!” Someone had yelled. “Not friendly!”
Eren’s stomach dropped as he saw Jean’s expression change instantly, all warmth and amusement replaced with intense focus. His gaze turned steely as he peered out at the approaching vessel. Its black sails billowed in the wind, the gleam of cannons visible along its sides. It wasn’t another pirate ship; the insignia on its flags marked it as a privateer ship, hired hunters who had no love for pirates.
Jean’s voice boomed out as he shouted orders to the crew—Eren had finally learned all their names and suddenly it felt like it was all disappearing. “All hands on deck! Prepare for battle! Ready the guns!”
Eren could see the tension in his jaw as he barked orders, directing Sasha, Connie, and the rest of the crew to their stations.
The privateer ship was closing in fast, and before long, cannon fire exploded across the water. Eren’s heart thundered as he ducked, feeling the heat of a cannonball that flew overhead, narrowly missing the mainmast.
In a blur, Eren’s training sword was replaced with a real blade, its weight unfamiliar and ominous in his hand. His fingers gripped the hilt tightly as he watched the approaching vessel.
He stumbled. He had never been in a real battle, never fought for his life. But as he looked around at the crew, at Jean and the others standing firm despite the danger, he felt something fierce and unyielding spark within him.
The ships collided, wood splintering and the sharp taste of salt mixing with smoke as grappling hooks latched onto the ship’s sides. Eren’s heart pounded, his pulse a steady beat of fear mixed with a surge of adrenaline. He followed Jean’s lead, diving into the fray, his blade clashing with others. Jean shouted reminders amid the chaos, his voice grounding Eren.
“Block high!” Jean called out as an enemy lunged toward Eren, who barely raised his blade in time to deflect the strike. The impact sent a jolt up his arms, but he gritted his teeth, keeping his stance as steady as he could.
Just as he started to find a rhythm, a larger, heavily armoured soldier charged at him, swinging with brutal force. Eren ducked just in time, the blade narrowly missing him, but he lost his balance, stumbling backward. Before the soldier could strike again, a figure dashed forward—a blur of motion—and the soldier collapsed, felled by Jean’s precise strike.
Jean smirked, tossing Eren a quick nod before dashing back into the fray. Eren regained his footing, heart racing, and swung at another opponent who came too close.
The battle was chaotic. Cannons roared, and the deck shook with each hit. Jean fought alongside the crew, his blade flashing as he deflected attacks from the privateers who had managed to board. Eren found himself back-to-back with Sasha, fending off an attacker with a surprising surge of confidence as she laughed beside him, her sword slicing through the air.
Eren swung his sword, every move clumsy but determined. Just as he started to find a rhythm again, he heard Connie cry out.
Eren’s head whipped around, his breath catching as he saw Connie clutching his side, his sword slipping from his grasp. Blood stained his shirt, darkening it as he collapsed to his knees.
“Connie!” Eren shouted, instinctively moving toward him, but Jean grabbed his arm, pulling him back, his face grim.
A privateer had struck him hard, and Connie collapsed onto the deck, clutching his side as blood seeped through his fingers. Jean’s eyes widened, and he shouted for Sasha, who broke off from her fight to kneel beside Connie. She scrambled to cover him, her face pale with desperation.
The battle raged on, brutal and unrelenting. Step by step, they drove the enemy back until, finally, the other ship’s crew began to retreat under the weight of their own injuries and losses. Eren panted, his arms heavy, every muscle aching as he surveyed the deck. The enemy ship slowly pulled away, the remaining soldiers defeated, disappearing into the distance.
For a brief moment, silence settled over the crew, the adrenaline giving way to a weariness that seeped into Eren’s bones. They had won, but the toll was evident. His gaze shifted across the deck, where fallen comrades and injured crew members lay scattered.
“Connie!” Sasha’s voice was thick with panic as she pressed a hand to his wound, trying to stanch the bleeding. “Hang on, okay? Marco’s coming.”
Jean called for Marco, their ship’s healer, who knelt by Connie’s side, his face grim. Eren could feel the weight of dread settle over the crew as Marco worked, his hands steady but his expression tense.
Eren’s chest tightened as he rushed over, his eyes locking onto Connie’s figure. Connie lay slumped against the deck, his face pale, blood soaking through his shirt. Marco was already kneeling beside him, hands replacing Sasha’s, pressing against the wound, his face a mask of concentration and worry.
“It’s… it’s bad,” Marco murmured, looking up at Jean. “The wound’s too deep. I don’t—he might not make it.”
A silence fell over them, the sounds of the retreating privateers fading into the background. Jean’s face was a mask of desperation, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for Connie, unable to tear his gaze away from his friend’s pale face.
Eren’s chest tightened, a fierce protectiveness swelling within him. He couldn’t let this happen—he couldn’t stand by and watch his friends lose someone they loved, someone who had saved him so many times since he’d joined them.
Footsteps sound beside him, and he glances up to see Jean’s familiar shape, tricorn hat slightly askew, his coat lined with hints of silver and small, glinting trinkets. The faintest hint of a grin pulls at Jean’s mouth as he speaks.
“Not bad out there, for someone who’s never held a sword before,” Jean says, his tone half-mocking, but there’s warmth in it too. Eren can feel his cheeks heat up. He scowls, though he doesn’t pull away from Jean’s shoulder, which brushes his ever so slightly.
“Yeah, well, I was fine. Just... didn’t expect it, is all,” he mutters, attempting to sound nonchalant. His gaze flickers to Jean’s profile, noting the angles and lines that make up his face. Dark blond hair, a shade that catches the sun just right, falls into his eyes. He looks every bit the pirate—wild, untamed, almost too striking to bear looking at for too long.
Marco soon joins them, blood smeared on his clothes and Eren doesn’t know if it’s his, Connie’s, or the enemy’s.
“How’s he doing?” Jean asks.
Marco glances at Eren before looking back at Jean, face pale, and shakes his head. “You should probably…” His voice trails off, thick with fear.
Eren watches Jean’s expression change, a raw vulnerability flashing across his face. The sight makes something twist painfully in Eren’s chest. Jean, who always seems so steady, suddenly looks lost. Eren feels a surge of determination—if he can help, then he must.
Without overthinking it, he steps forward. “Let me try.” he says, his voice a little unsteady but filled with resolve. He's still not sure he has the strength to help Connie, but he has to try.
Jean’s gaze snaps to him, a mixture of hope and scepticism in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Jean,” he said, his voice steady despite the fear in his heart. “I… I think I can help.”
Jean turned to him, eyes wild with hope and disbelief. “Eren, what are you talking about?”
“I told you I’m not a witch,” Eren starts, because he’s not sure how else to explain it. He’s never had to before. “But that doesn’t mean I’m entirely normal either.”
Jean’s eyes close. “Eren, I’m not following. If you have something important to say, say it now.”
Taking a deep breath, Eren swallows the fear knotting in his throat. “I... I have abilities. Healing abilities. It’s dangerous, but I can try.”
Jean hesitates, looking at him with an intensity that makes Eren’s heart stammer. Marco looks between Eren and Jean. Then, Jean nods, desperation softening his features. “If you can save him... do it.”
Eren is led down to a part of the ship he hasn’t been to yet. The infirmary.
Eren kneels beside Connie, placing trembling hands over the wound. He closes his eyes, summoning the energy within, feeling the familiar tug of his power. It’s like pulling at a thread that’s woven into his very being, and it comes with a price—a sharp, searing pain that jolts through him as he channels his own life force into the wound.
A soft light glows around his hands, brightening as he concentrates. He feels his own strength waning, the familiar ache of his life slipping away bit by bit, though much stronger than he's ever experienced. But he doesn’t stop. He pushes the magic further, knitting Connie’s flesh back together, drawing away the pain, coaxing his body to heal.
The agony is indescribable, like something vital is being torn from him, but he pushes on, gritting his teeth. He won’t let Connie die.
After what feels like an eternity, Connie’s breathing steadies, his skin regaining colour, the wound closing softly beneath Eren’s hands, the first dark signs of blood poisoning seeping out, the bleeding slowing until it stops completely. Eren falls back, his vision hazy, his limbs weak as though his energy has drained into the very wood of the deck beneath him. He knows he’s pushed himself too far, but he knows it was worth it—Connie is safe.
When he finally opens his eyes, everyone is staring, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. Sasha’s mouth hangs open, and even Marco looks shaken. Sasha is the first to break the silence.
“Bloody hell.”
Eren manages a weak smile, trying to mask how much it took out of him. His body aches, every breath laboured, but seeing Jean look at him like that—like he’s something incredible—makes the pain worth it.
Sasha shakes her head, her expression shifting to one of admiration. “Who knew the scrawny kid we picked up would be so full of surprises.”
“Thought you said you weren’t a witch…” Connie whispers from below them. The words come out in a strained, pained mumble, barely audible as Connie’s breath hitches with each exhale.
Sasha lets out a shaky laugh, pulling Connie into a careful hug as Marco moves to tend to the remaining injuries.
Eren lets out a tired laugh, leaning back to steady his breathing. “No,” he says. “I’m a healer, there’s a difference. I can’t cast curses.”
He catches Sasha’s eye. “Told you I wasn’t going to curse anyone.”
Instead of laughter in her eyes like before, he sees something new there—a respect he hadn’t realised he wanted. For the first time, he feels like he belongs, like he’s found something he didn’t know he was looking for.
But deep down, he knows this feeling is fleeting. Every time he heals, he grows weaker, each act of magic chipping away at his own life. And as much as he wants to stay—with Jean, with these people who feel like family—he knows there’s a price.
Jean steps closer, eyes full of concern. “Are you... alright?”
Eren forces a nod, smiling as best as he can. “I’ll be fine.” It’s a lie, but he doesn’t want them to worry, doesn’t want Jean to know the cost.
He kneels beside Eren, his hand resting firmly on Eren’s shoulder. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.
Jean’s hand lingers on his shoulder, warm and solid, and Eren’s heart aches with a longing he doesn’t dare name. But as he meets Jean’s gaze, he knows he would do it all again, no matter the toll.
It’s quiet for a time as they all let Connie rest, though none of them are willing to leave his side for long.
Later, Jean and Eren are sitting in the cot opposite Connie’s. It’s dark, most of the ship is asleep and they’ve mostly been sitting in silence for a couple of hours.
Finally, Jean looks at him, his expression unreadable, a mix of relief, gratitude, and something else—something deeper, something that sends a thrill down Eren’s spine despite his exhaustion. Slowly, Jean reaches out, resting a hand on Eren’s shoulder, his grip firm and warm.
“Thank you,” Jean murmurs, his voice thick. “I… I didn’t believe you before. I’m sorry. But… thank you.”
Eren’s cheeks flush, and he finds himself smiling despite the toll the magic has taken on him. “It’s… it’s okay, captain,” he replies softly. “Anything for the crew.”
The battle is over, the privateers gone, but something has changed on the ship that day—a new trust, a deeper bond. And as Jean looks at Eren, his gaze filled with a newfound respect and warmth, Eren feels his heart skip, knowing that whatever strange path he is on, he isn’t alone anymore.