The first thing Eren felt was cold.

  Not the icy breath of Titans or the damp air clinging to stone walls—this was something else. Wet. Suffocating. Crushing.

  His lungs screamed for air as instinct kicked in. Arms flailed. Legs kicked against the pull dragging him downward. His cloak tangled around him like seaweed, heavy and clinging. His mouth opened without thinking, and saltwater rushed in, burning his throat and nostrils.

  His mind barely had time to form a thought before panic shoved everything else aside.

  Up.

  He thrashed until his boots scraped against nothing, pushing toward the shifting light above.

  Then, suddenly—air.

  Eren burst through the surface, gasping, coughing, choking. Water poured from his mouth. He blinked against the sharp sunlight overhead, blinded. Everything felt wrong. Wide. Open. The sky stretched forever. No stone walls. No rooftops. No Titans.

  Just ocean.

  He spun in the water, twisting in slow circles. The only solid thing in sight was a narrow strip of beach not far ahead, lined with thick trees that rustled in the breeze.

  “…Where the hell am I?” His voice cracked, raw and barely audible over the waves.

  ...

  He washed ashore minutes later, crawling through the surf like a dying animal. Each breath came sharp and ragged. His body ached. Muscles refused to respond. The sand clung to every part of him, gritty and soaked.

  Eventually, he stopped moving. Just lay there, chest heaving, eyes fixed on the sky. The sun pressed heat into his clothes, making the wet fabric cling even tighter. His green cloak, marked with the twin wings of the Scout Regiment, looked darker now—heavy with seawater and stained with something darker along the hem. Blood? Old or new, he couldn’t tell.

  After a while, he sat up.

  His gear was gone. No harness. No gas tanks. No blades. No satchel. Just boots, pants, shirt, and the cloak that felt like a weight dragging him back toward the sea.

  He checked his pockets. Nothing. Not even a ration.

  The last thing he remembered was chaos—Ymir. Reiner. Bertholdt’s betrayal. That crumbling tower. The roar of a Titan. Screams. Then—

  Nothing.

  Now this.

  He dug his fingers into the sand and squeezed a fistful of it until his nails bit into his palm.

  “What happened to me?” he whispered.

  No answer.

  Just the breeze and the distant crash of waves.

  ...

  By late afternoon, Eren had pulled himself together enough to move inland. The forest beyond the beach wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. Broad-leafed trees towered overhead, thick roots curling across the ground like veins. The air smelled different. Fresher, but heavier. And it was hot. Oppressively so.

  He kept to the edge of the treeline, not venturing too deep, scanning every shadow with the eyes of a soldier. Every snapping twig made his heart jump. Every rustle of leaves twisted in his gut like a warning. His body still expected the sound of thundering footsteps or the low groan of a Titan.

  But there was nothing. No Titans. No buildings. No soldiers. No walls.

  The absence made him feel more exposed than ever.

  He eventually found a sloped ridge and settled beneath a fallen tree trunk, crouching low. It wasn’t shelter, not really, but it gave him some cover and a clear view of the beach.

  He stayed there as the sky turned orange and the light began to fade. When night came, he didn’t sleep. Just kept watch.

  Every time he closed his eyes, he heard screams that weren’t real.

  ...

  In the morning, he found fruit.

  They hung from a squat tree near the edge of a clearing—orange, round, the size of a fist. He sniffed one, cautiously took a bite.

  It was bitter. Tough-skinned. But it didn’t burn his mouth or numb his tongue.

  He ate it anyway.

  Hunger made the decision for him.

  He kept moving. Slowly. Quietly. Eyes always scanning. He tried to mark the direction of the sun, keep a mental map of where he’d been. There was no point in walking aimlessly, but standing still felt worse.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  After a few hours, he found something.

  A path. Dirt, worn down over time, lined with scattered leaves and broken branches. He crouched beside it and ran a hand across the surface. Tracks. Small ones. More than one set.

  People.

  He hesitated. A part of him wanted to call out. Another part screamed to stay hidden.

  He followed the trail from a distance, never stepping directly on it, always a few meters away, behind brush and trees.

  Eventually, the forest thinned.

  He spotted the village from a ridge—small, tucked into a coastal bend. Thatched huts with wide roofs. Wooden fences. Boats near a dock. Smoke rising from fires.

  People.

  Dozens of them. Children ran barefoot through the dirt paths. Men hauled fishing nets. Women tended fires and passed food around.

  No soldiers. No guards. No weapons on their hips.

  Eren watched, frowning.

  Why aren’t they afraid?

  ...

  He observed for hours. The smell of roasted fish drifted toward the trees and made his stomach cramp with hunger. His legs had gone numb from crouching too long.

  He finally stood when the moon began to rise.

  Decision time.

  He moved slowly, hands up, cloak loose at his sides. As he stepped into the open, the noise from the village started to quiet. A few people turned. One man—a fisherman, tall with a beard and arms like rope—set down his basket and squinted.

  Eren kept his palms visible.

  “I’m not here to fight,” he said. His voice cracked. “I just… need food. Water.”

  The fisherman didn’t move. His hand drifted toward a knife tucked into his belt, but he didn’t draw it.

  “Where’d you come from?” the man asked. His tone wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t cruel either.

  “I don’t know.” Eren licked his lips. “I woke up near the shore. I’ve been in the forest since yesterday.”

  The man stared at him for a long moment.

  Then he turned to someone behind him and called out, “Get Mira.”

  ...

  She came fast.

  Older, probably in her forties. Lean, sun-browned skin, sharp eyes. She wore a sleeveless shirt and a sash around her waist. Her arms were crossed before she even spoke.

  “This him?”

  The fisherman nodded.

  She looked Eren up and down. “You armed?”

  “No.”

  “You sick?”

  “No.”

  “You running from someone?”

  Eren hesitated. “I don’t think so.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That cloak of yours. Looks like military gear.”

  Eren said nothing.

  “You got a name?” she asked.

  “Eren.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “Just Eren?”

  “…Eren Yeager.”

  Mira didn’t blink. Just folded her arms tighter.

  “You look like someone who’s seen too much.”

  “I’ve seen enough,” he muttered.

  She gave a short, thoughtful hum.

  Then she jerked her chin toward the fire. “You hungry?”

  He nodded.

  She motioned. “Come eat.”

  ...

  They gave him a wooden bowl filled with thick soup—fish, potatoes, herbs. It was hot and salty and tasted like life. Eren ate it without stopping, barely breathing between mouthfuls. He didn’t care that people were watching.

  Mira sat across from him, legs folded beneath her.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She didn’t press further. Just leaned back and scratched her cheek.

  “Well, Eren Yeager… You’re lucky you didn’t walk into a pirate camp.”

  He looked up. “Pirates?”

  She nodded. “East Blue’s full of them. Some just steal. Some kill. All of ’em trouble.”

  “Is that… normal here?”

  Her brow arched. “You really don’t know where you are.”

  Eren shook his head slowly.

  She studied him a second longer, then said, “This is a fishing island. Small. Unimportant. But peaceful—most of the time.”

  He hesitated. “You said East Blue?”

  “That’s the sea you’re in.”

  She watched his reaction closely, but Eren just stared into his bowl. His mind was racing. None of these names meant anything to him.

  “This world,” he murmured, “it’s not mine.”

  Mira frowned. “What’d you say?”

  Eren didn’t answer.

  After a moment, she stood. “He can sleep in the storage shed,” she said to the fisherman. “Watch him, but don’t treat him like an animal.”

  The man grunted. “You trust him?”

  “I don’t,” she said. “But I don’t smell blood on him. And I’ve seen plenty of desperate kids.”

  She turned to Eren. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  “I won’t.”

  ...

  The shed was small, mostly full of nets and crates. It smelled like salt and fish and dust. But it was dry. And quiet.

  Eren lay down on a pile of rope and pulled the cloak around himself.

  This wasn’t home.

  It wasn’t anywhere near home.

  But it was something.

  He stared at the rafters until his eyes blurred.

  He didn’t sleep.

  He just waited for the next thing to come.

  Location: East Blue – Coastal Village

  Status: Civilian Cover Acquired

  Titan Power: Dormant – Mental Instability Detected

  Objectives: Survive – Observe – Integrate

  The system alerts have no bearing on the story, they are more so there as a journal or log of what's going on.

  I personally have not finished Attack on Titan, I am on season 3 right now. This story takes place from season 2. No information that is revealed after that should be included. Same goes for One Piece, I am not caught up but I am a good amount of way through the story. Please leave any feedback you have. Thanks for reading!