I died on a Tuesday.
It wasn't heroic. There was no truck, no dramatic sacrifice, no final words of wisdom. Just a missed step on a subway platform in Tokyo, a moment of distraction as I scrolled through Attack on Titan theories on my phone, and then nothing.
And then everything.
The first thing I remembered was screaming.
Not my own, though that would come later. It was my mother's scream, raw and primal, as I entered this world covered in blood and vernix, gasping for air I didn't yet understand how to breathe. The shock of it nearly killed me twice: once from the trauma of birth itself, and again from the sheer impossibility of knowing what was happening.
I was born in a farmhouse on the outskirts of Wall Maria, in a settlement so small it didn't even have a name on the maps. The walls loomed in the distance: massive, ancient, and impossibly real.
This can't be happening, I thought, even as infant instincts overrode everything and forced me to cry, to feed, to survive.
But it was happening.
I was inside Attack on Titan.
And I wasn't just myself anymore.
The memories came in fragments at first. Flashes of my previous life interspersed with the overwhelming sensory chaos of infancy. I remembered my name: Takeshi Yamamoto. I remembered my apartment in Shibuya, the glow of my computer screen as I binged anime until three in the morning, the taste of convenience store ramen. I remembered theories about the Rumbling, debates about Eren's motivations, arguments with online strangers about whether the ending made sense.
And I remembered dying.
But more than that, more than anything, I remembered him.
Lelouch vi Britannia.
Not just as a character I'd watched, but as something deeper. Something fundamental. His memories, his intellect, his very essence seemed to have fused with my own consciousness. I could recall tactical scenarios I'd never studied, political machinations I'd never witnessed, and most terrifying of all, I could feel the weight of his ambition pressing against the inside of my skull like a second heartbeat.
The Geass.
Even then, as an infant unable to control my own bodily functions, I could feel it lurking behind my eyes. Dormant. Waiting.
What kind of cosmic joke is this? I wondered during those long, helpless months. What god or devil thought it would be funny to drop someone with foreknowledge of this world's apocalypse into a baby's body with the power to command absolute obedience?
But the universe offered no answers.
Only time.
Only the slow, agonizing crawl toward the day when I could actually do something with this cursed gift.
THREE YEARS LATER
I sat in the dirt outside our farmhouse, watching my father repair a fence while my mother hung laundry. The sun was warm. The air smelled like grass and livestock. In the distance, Wall Maria rose like a stone god, silent and eternal.
Eight years, I thought. Eight years until Shiganshina falls.
My name in this life was Lucius Arren. My father, Marcus, was a farmer: strong, practical, and deeply skeptical of anything beyond the simple rhythm of planting and harvest. My mother, Elena, was kind, gentle, and completely unaware that her son had the memories of a twenty-six-year-old software engineer from another world.
They loved me.
That made everything so much harder.
"Lucius!" my mother called. "Come help me with the sheets!"
I stood, brushing dirt from my trousers. Even at three years old, my body was developing faster than it should. Not physically, I was still small and weak, but mentally I had already surpassed every adult in our village. I could read fluently, perform complex arithmetic, and understand political structures that wouldn't be taught for another decade.
My parents called it precociousness.
I called it a curse.
Because every time my mother smiled at me, every time my father ruffled my hair with his calloused hands, I thought about what was coming. The Colossal Titan would breach Wall Maria. Refugees would flood inward. Disease, starvation, and death would follow. The chances of my parents surviving the chaos were slim.
Unless I changed things.
Unless I used it.
I helped my mother fold the sheets, moving with the careful precision that had become second nature. She hummed while she worked, a simple folk song that probably existed in this world long before Titans ever appeared. The normalcy of it was suffocating.
"You're quiet today," she observed, glancing down at me with those warm brown eyes. "What's on your mind, little one?"
How do I save you? I wanted to scream. How do I stop what's coming without becoming a monster in the process?
Instead, I smiled. "Just thinking about the walls, Mama. They're so big."
She followed my gaze toward the distant stone barrier. "They keep us safe. That's all you need to know."
No, I thought. They keep you ignorant. They keep you docile. They keep you from asking the questions that might actually matter.
But I said nothing.
Not yet.
ONE YEAR LATER: AGE FOUR
It happened in the market square of a nearby town called Quinta.
My mother had taken me to buy flour and salt. The streets were crowded: merchants shouting, children running, soldiers from the Garrison drinking at outdoor taverns. It was loud, chaotic, and utterly normal.
Until I locked eyes with a man across the square.
He was nobody. A farmer, maybe, or a laborer. Middle-aged, weathered, unremarkable. He was arguing with a merchant about the price of grain, his face red with frustration and impotent anger.
But the moment our eyes met, something shifted.
The world slowed.
The noise of the market faded to a distant murmur.
And I felt it.
A presence. A power. Something coiled behind my eyes like a sleeping beast suddenly waking. It was cold and hot at the same time, alien and intimately familiar, terrifying and exhilarating.
The Geass.
My vision blurred for a fraction of a second, and when it cleared, I saw it reflected in the window of a nearby shop: a red symbol glowing faintly in my left eye. A bird with wings spread wide, the same sigil that had marked Lelouch's power.
No, I thought desperately. Not yet. I'm not ready. I don't know how to control it.
But the Geass didn't care about readiness.
It wanted to be used.
The man was still staring at me, his expression confused. He probably wondered why a four-year-old child was looking at him with such intensity. He probably thought I was simple-minded or lost.
He had no idea how close he came to being my first victim.
I tore my gaze away, stumbling backward and clutching my mother's skirt.
"Lucius? What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed, kneeling down to check my face. "Are you feeling ill?"
I couldn't answer.
My heart was hammering against my ribs. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The power was still there, still hungry, pressing against the inside of my skull like it wanted to burst free.
Control it, I commanded myself, drawing on every ounce of Lelouch's discipline. You are not a slave to this power. You are its master.
Slowly, agonizingly, the sensation faded.
The red glow vanished.
The world returned to normal.
"I'm okay," I managed to whisper. "Just... dizzy."
My mother scooped me up, concerned, and carried me to a quiet corner of the market where she bought me water and made me sit in the shade. I drank mechanically, my mind racing.
It's real, I thought. It's actually real. The Geass exists. I have Lelouch's power.
And with that realization came a second, more terrifying truth:
I could have used it just now. If I'd wanted to, I could have commanded that man to do anything. Jump off a building. Kill someone. Destroy his own life with a single order.
The ease of it was horrifying.
The temptation was even worse.
Because part of me, the part that remembered Lelouch's memories, wanted to use it. Wanted to test it. Wanted to see if the power was truly absolute or if this world operated under different rules.
But I didn't.
Not that day.
Because I knew what Lelouch had learned too late: power without purpose was just destruction. And destruction without a plan was just chaos.
If I was going to use the Geass, it would be for something that mattered.
It would be to save this world.
Even if that meant damning myself in the process.
FIVE YEARS LATER: AGE NINE
I knelt in the grass behind our house, staring at my reflection in a bucket of water.
My eyes were normal: grey-blue, like my father's. But I knew what lurked beneath. I'd tested the Geass three times over the past five years, always carefully, always on people I'd never see again.
The first was a merchant in a border town who'd been beating his apprentice in an alley. I'd commanded him to stop, to turn himself in to the Garrison, and to confess every crime he'd ever committed. He'd done it without hesitation, his eyes glazed with the unmistakable mark of Geass compulsion.
The second was a drifter passing through our village, a man who boasted drunkenly about killing a family for their supplies. I'd told him to walk into the wilderness beyond Wall Maria and never return. As far as I knew, he was still walking.
The third was a corrupt Garrison officer extorting farmers for protection money. I'd made him redistribute everything he'd stolen and resign his commission. He'd obeyed instantly, mechanically, like a puppet with cut strings.
Each time, the same result: one command, absolute obedience, irreversible.
Each time, the same hollow feeling afterward.
Because I'd learned something Lelouch had known instinctively: the Geass didn't just control others. It changed you. Every time I used it, I felt a little more distant from the people around me. A little more willing to see them as pieces on a board rather than human beings with their own dreams and fears.
It was seductive.
And it was terrifying.
I stood up, fists clenched, staring at the distant silhouette of Wall Maria.
Three years, I thought. Three years until I can join the military. Three years until I can start building the foundation for what needs to happen.
Because I'd spent the past five years planning.
I knew the timeline. I knew the major players. I knew where Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were right now: growing up in Shiganshina, blissfully unaware of the nightmare approaching. I knew the Survey Corps was still under the command of Keith Shadis, that Erwin Smith was just beginning his rise through the ranks, that Levi Ackerman was probably still in the Underground City fighting for survival.
I knew everything.
And I had a plan.
It was ambitious. It was dangerous. It required manipulating some of the most intelligent and strong-willed people in this world. It required sacrifices I wasn't sure I could make.
But it was the only way.
The walls wouldn't protect humanity forever. The truth about the Titans would come out eventually. Marley would attack. The Rumbling would loom on the horizon.
Unless I changed the fundamental equation.
Unless I unified humanity before it was too late.
And to do that, I needed to become something more than just another soldier. I needed to become a symbol. A leader. A devil that humanity could rally behind, even if they feared me.
I needed to become what Lelouch had tried to be: the villain the world needed to find peace.
Zero Requiem, I thought, remembering the final episodes of Code Geass. He made himself the enemy so the world could unite against him. And when he died, he took all the hatred with him.
Could I do the same here?
Could I shoulder the weight of this world's sins and create a future where Titans were just a memory?
I didn't know.
But I had to try.
Because the alternative was watching everyone I cared about die.
And I'd already died once.
I wasn't going to let it happen again.
THREE MONTHS LATER
I stood in the recruitment office in the city of Trost, my hand pressed flat against a wooden desk scarred with years of use.
The officer behind it looked at me skeptically. He was middle-aged, balding, with the weary expression of someone who'd processed thousands of applications from starry-eyed children dreaming of glory.
"You're nine years old, kid," he said flatly. "We don't take recruits until twelve. Come back in three years."
"I know," I said calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "But I'll be twelve in three years. I'm here to register my intent and request early evaluation."
He frowned. "Early evaluation? That's for exceptional cases only. Noble families. Prodigies. You're a farmer's son from outside Quinta. What makes you think you qualify?"
I'd prepared for this question.
I'd prepared for everything.
"Because," I said quietly, "I can already perform the physical requirements for basic training. I can run five kilometers without stopping. I can solve tactical scenarios faster than most adults. And I understand something that most recruits don't."
"Oh?" He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "And what's that?"
I held his gaze, letting just a hint of the intensity I'd inherited from Lelouch show through.
"That the walls won't protect us forever. And when they fall, we'll need soldiers who are ready to die for something more than just survival."
Silence.
The officer stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes: suspicion, curiosity, and something else. Something like recognition.
Finally, he sighed and pulled out a form.
"Name?"
"Lucius Arren."
"Age?"
"Nine."
"Reason for early application?"
I paused, considering my words carefully.
"Because I've seen what happens when people wait too long to act. And I refuse to be one of them."
He wrote it down without comment, then stamped the form with brutal efficiency.
"This doesn't guarantee anything," he warned. "You'll still have to wait until you're twelve. And even then, you'll have to pass the entrance exam like everyone else."
"I understand."
"Good." He slid the form across the desk. "Next."
I took the paper, folded it carefully, and walked out of the office into the bright sunlight of Trost's streets.
Behind me, I heard the officer mutter to his colleague: "Strange kid. Too serious for his age."
You have no idea, I thought.
Because this was just the beginning.
In three years, I would enter the 104th Training Corps.
I would meet Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, and all the others whose names I'd memorized from a show I'd watched in another life.
I would prepare them for what was coming.
And I would use the Geass when necessary, carefully, strategically, to shift the balance of power in ways no one would see coming.
But first, I needed to survive.
I needed to train.
I needed to become someone worth following.
Because in eight years, the Colossal Titan would appear.
And when it did, I would be ready.
Not to run.
Not to hide.
But to change everything.
I swore I'd save this world, I thought, staring up at Wall Maria in the distance. Even if it costs me everything. Even if I become the devil they whisper about in the dark.
Because if I don't, millions will die.
And I'll be complicit in every single death.
The wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of distant smoke and the promise of storms to come.
I turned and walked toward home, where my parents waited, blissfully unaware of the future their son was trying to rewrite.
Hold on, I thought. Just a little longer.
I'm coming.
And when I arrive, this world will never be the same.