Original subtitles

You-- You're all cowards!

Just shut up! And put all your faith in me!

You don't need a good "talking to."

What you're in need of, boy, is to be taught a lesson.

Hm. Then I have made my choice.

And so it was that Eren became a ward

of the Scout Regiment, and key to

their planned mission beyond the wall.

An architectural marvel, don't you agree?

A proper royal residence once upon a time;

and more recently, our former headquarters.

Fancy, yes. But absurdly impractical once

the Scouts got down to business.

Much, much too far removed from either river or wall.

This was the early days for us, you understand.

Hopes soared high. Now, this opulent bauble is

a little more than a holding cell.

The place where we store our newest toy.

Do not be deceived, greenhorn.

Excuse me?

Don't be expecting the royal treatment.

Whether you're Titan or human, don't imagine for a second

we all share the good Captain's enthusi--

That's what you get for

flapping your jowls on horseback.

The rookie needed to know his place.

First impressions are important.

Well you certainly made an impression on him.

No question there.

Indeed so. Our exchange went exactly as planned.

What, um... What happened to you?

You never used to talk like this.

I mean. It's really none of my business,

but if you're trying to act like the Captain,

it's kind of embarrassing.

You and Levi couldn't be less alike

if you'd been born separate species.

If you intend to hound me like a wife, Petra, dear,

there's rather more of me you need to be acquainted with

before laying claim to the privilege.

Ha. You wish.

I'd tell you to bite your tongue,

but you've got that covered.

Next time I hope you bleed out.

Oh-ho-ho!

Methinks the lady doth protest too much.

So here they are.

The Scouts' Special Operations Squad.

The "Levi Squad."

You disgusting swineherd!

Petra Rall. Ten Titan-kills to her credit;

forty-eight kill-assists.

Oruo Bozad. Thirty-nine kills; nine assists.

Elite as they come.

Eld Gin. Fourteen kills; thirty-two assists.

Gunther Schultz. Seven kills; forty assists.

Every one of these Scouts was handpicked by

Captain Levi for accomplishments in the field.

That, and... They're my executioners.

The ones who'll end me if I lose it.

Look at these weeds.

This place's gone to hell.

It's been abandoned for years.

Bet the inside's are shambles.

In which case we have a problem, don't we?

Best grab a broom and get to work.

I'm done with the upstairs, sir.

If, uh-- If I may ask, Captain,

where will I be expected to sleep?

Your sleeping quarters are in the cellar.

The cellar? But, sir, again?

Our safest option.

Your abilities are far from being under control.

You might go Titan in your sleep.

One of the conditions of my having you

in custody at all is that I keep you under

strict security morning, noon, and night.

While we're in dreamland, you're in restraints.

That's the rule.

I'll check your work.

Take over here. I want it spotless.

Yes, sir.

Oh, Eren. Try not to look so discouraged.

Sorry. I hope you don't mind me calling you Eren.

I notice the Captain does and, well,

he pretty much sets the tone for the rest of us.

Whatever. It's just that I, uh... well...

Did I really look discouraged, or were you saying that?

Everyone reacts that way.

Up close and personal, Captain Levi doesn't seem

much like the hero he's cracked up to be.

For one thing he's a lot shorter.

Bit on the temperamental side, too.

Not exactly imbued with what you'd call the social graces.

It's not that. I'm more put off by the seriousness.

He's so dead earnest about following the higher-ups' rules.

Let me guess. You think strength means

living by your own rules, flouting everyone else's?

Well, he didn't strike me as the type to take orders.

Time was he would've lived up to your expectations.

That's what I understand anyway. I don't have the details.

Story goes he was quite the rogue

before joining the Scouts.

A high roller in the Capital's black market.

How the hell did he-- I mean...

No clue. Folks talk, but who knows what

really brought him here, right?

The most popular version involves Erwin.

They say he dragged him to the Scouts kicking and screaming.

The Commander?

What's going on?

Sir!

Your cleaning is lamentable.

Back upstairs. Now.

We're thirty days out from an expedition to set up

a logistics base beyond the wall.

And now you're saying we'll have a crop of

green recruits along for the ride?

Assuming any sign up, yes.

Not to be a nay-sayer, but doesn't that seem rash to you?

Honestly, what are their odds?

Our custody of Eren is conditional

on the results of this mission.

Right now the first order of business is

persuading the brass we have him under control;

that's he's an asset, not a threat.

The last thing we want is for the Military Police

to throw in their lot. Or someone else.

And you don't wanna give me a straight answer. Is that it?

Your nose is as sharp as ever, huh? Not bad.

*sniff*

Yeah, well. Not as sharp as yours on a good day.

You'll have the facts soon enough.

It's safe to assume our standing orders

will stretch into next week.

But word through the grapevine is we're gearing up

for a big mission a month from now.

One where a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears graduates

are slated to be our main backup.

That can't be right. Why do something like that?

The cadets have been through enough

with the last Titan attack.

Why subject them to that kind of danger again?

You have to wonder how many of those

snivel-drop runts peed themselves.

Surely this can't be the case.

Mission planning isn't my responsibility.

But, it is Erwin's.

And you can bet the man's obsessed over every angle.

That's the truth.

Especially given how unique the situation is.

Consider how many people died on the path to taking back

Wall Maria, then hope comes in a form no one expected.

One that we're not even entirely sure how to deal with.

Most of us still find it hard to believe.

So how does it work?

This whole changing into a Titan trick. Really?

Wish I could tell you, but the fact is my memory's not clear.

Guess it's kinda like being in a trance.

I do know the trigger seems to be

hurting myself in some way. Like biting my hand.

Wait. Why do I know that, but nothing else?

You're not going to get anything out of him.

Apart from what the scribblers have laid out in the reports.

Huh. Not that you-know- who won't have a go at it.

You'll be lucky to come out of it alive

if that one lays into you.

'Course it's only a matter of time.

Who're you talking about?

*banging* Oww!

I'm so sorry. Good evening, Team Levi!

How is castle life treating everyone?

You're too early.

Am I? S'pose I couldn't help myself.

Section Commander Hange?

Hello, Eren.

In the event you haven't pieced it together yet,

it's my job to spearhead the

Scout Regiment's research efforts.

Essentially, I poke and prod our captive Titan specimens.

I'd very much like your help.

My help? In what way?

Like, what would I have to do?

Join me, of course!

On a quest of scientific discovery!

Well, uh... I'm happy to help,

except I'm afraid it's not up to me.

I'm under close restrictions by order of

the higher ups, you see.

Levi! What's on the docket for him tomorrow?

Clearing out all the weeds.

Excellent, then! It's cinched!

Young man, tomorrow will be grand.

Uh. 'Kay... But, uh...

Just so I'm clear, what exactly will I be doing?

Hm?

Are you running experiments or something?

Idiot. Shut up.

Ah. I knew it.

You possess a singularly curious mind, don't you?

Well, my inquisitive friend, if you insist.

Why not lay it all on the table?

I intend to get better acquainted

with the Titans we lucked upon in Trost.

As a scientist, naturally I started with

the standard battery of tests

we conduct on all such captures.

Hello, beautiful.

First was an attempt at communication.

How're we feeling?

Do you have a name? Are you in pain?

Section commander! You're too close!

Hi there! Lovely weather, don't you think?

Are you hungry?

Whoa! That was close!

That's what I've been trying to tell you!

Sadly, my findings were consistent with

all other past attempts.

No communication with them seemed possible.

That said, my time spent in intimate proximity to

these creatures did indeed help me cope with

the tediousness of day-to-day tasks.

Once upon a time, many centuries ago now,

there lived a vicious tribe of cannibals.

You may think I'm speaking of your kind,

but in fact, these cannibals were human.

They would maraud unwary travelers near their cave.

Their ruthless palate did not discriminate between

merchant and clergymen; highborn or low.

Valuables were taken, flesh feasted upon.

We gotta go through this again?

Her naming scheme is so weird.

Yeah. What'd she end up going with last time?

It was Chikatilo and Albert.

In the end, these cannibals subsisted on

human meat for twenty-five years, give or take.

Historians suspect they killed somewhere around

five hundred people during that time.

That's probably more victims than

the two of you have gorged on, combined.

To their credit, though,

they perfected the art of preparing flesh.

Steaks cut from hind-quarter meat.

Leg meat diced and added to stew.

Belly fat ground into patties and fried.

Sausages made from blood clots and intestinal lining.

In fact. One might even suggest

they furthered the culinary arts.

In that respect they were distinct from you.

Alas, this tribe of gourmandizing cannibals

were caught and executed by the providence

of a single mistake.

In that respect you aren't so dissimilar.

You both underestimated your quarry's resourcefulness

and wound up captured. Victims of your own appetite.

In honor of the cannibal tribe's notorious leader,

I'm going to christen you beauties accordingly.

You'll be "Sawney."

You are "Beane."

No need to fret, though. I'm not going to publicly

disembowel you or burn you at the stake.

Pleasure to meet you, Sawney. Likewise, Beane.

Let's be chums, huh?

That's how I came to name the 7-meter Titan, "Beane,"

and his grinning 4-meter companion "Sawney."

The next step involved sensory deprivation;

denying them sunlight.

Observing as we do that Titans are less active

in the nocturnal hours, we may extrapolate from this

experiment that the sun is likely

a key source of energy for them.

Nevertheless, I discovered a

profound difference between the two.

Well done, Sawney.

See you in the morning. Sweet dreams, ya lug.

Corroborating previous data, Sawney grew notably

sluggish after only an hour's lack of sun.

My, my, someone's certainly the night owl, huh?

You're going to wear me out. Ah well.

This wouldn't be my first all-nighter

in the name of science.

Beane, however, still beamed three hours in.

A staggering find, believe me.

They don't require food or water to survive.

They possess vocal organs,

but have absolutely no need to breathe.

The only thing their bodies metabolize

into energy is sunlight.

Every Titan may have a different threshold for

sunlight withdrawal, so I have be careful.

Don't want 'em dying on me, ya know?

Several have passed on in captivity

owing to my ignorance, sad to say.

Two in particular perished of decapitation

when we accidentally struck the soft spot.

Poor devils. Chikatiloni and Albert, their names were.

Such adorable, ear-to-ear smiles.

What I did to them was terrible. It haunts me.

I mustn't let that happen again.

I couldn't bear it.

Yeah, no. Sure.

Carrying on! Physical contact with them was

the next obvious step, because I simply had to know

whether or not they experienced pain as you or I!

Whoa! It isn't necessary for you to scream, Section Comma--

I can't do this and not scream, damn you!

Look at him! He's in absolute agony!

My poor Beane! I'm so sorry! Hang in there!

It was the only way to learn

if they had any weaknesses.

Apart from their napes, you see.

I hated myself for it.

Sawney. Sweet pea.

I've skewered you straight through the heart.

Does it not hurt, dear? Don't you feel that?

Sawney was more, shall we say

introverted than his counterpart.

If he felt pain, he was unwilling to show it.

Go on. Talk to me.

Ow!

For the love of god, stand clear!

You almost got me that time, didn't ya, darling?

You want your head chomped off?

Sawney's range of expression is,

somewhat limited, I think.

The only things he knows to do are lunge and bite.

Commander. All due respect.

But how can you be so lighthearted about them?

You talk like they're badly behaved pets.

It's just-- They're the single greatest threat

mankind has ever faced.

They've nearly driven us to extinction.

You're a Scout, you know that.

You've seen them in action countless times.

True. In fact, more than my fair share of friends

have died in the jaws of a Titan, right in front of me.

When I first became a Scout, I fought them

out of pure, white-hot hatred.

But one day, I came to a realization.

I'd kicked the severed head of

a 3-meter Titan out of spite.

It weighed next to nothing.

Might as well have been a feather.

In the realm of improbability, that fact would

seem to rank fairly high.

Their, utter strength argues against it.

And such was the case with every Titan.

Contrary to the appearance

of density and great mass,

the severed limbs were light as tree bark.

I've been given to understand that

when you transform, your Titan body

materializes as if out of thin air.

It's so bizarre.

In fact, the only way I can think

to describe it is to say their appearance stands

in sharp contrast to their true substance.

We've been fumbling around in the dark.

Our prime offensive tactic based on contempt and fear.

We need a fresh strategy, one guided by knowledge.

A whole new way of looking at the enemy.

Of course it could be a complete waste of time.

Still, though. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Joining the Scouts has been an eye-opener.

Shock after shock.

And it's not just Section Commander Hange.

Everyone here's a little off.

It's like I've wandered into a sanctuary for crackpots.

But-- they're striving for change.

That's been the appeal of the Scouts all along, right?

Commander Hange!

If you don't mind, I think I should hear about

these experiments in greater detail.

What? Really?

Yes! I want to know everything!

If I'm going to help you tomorrow, I'll need it.

Ah. Good point.

Well, I might've glossed over

one or two important details. Right!

Full disclosure, then! We may be here a while.

Good!

I ought to start from our first captured Titan.

That was the birth of my first hypothesis, you see.

Carried to its natural conclusion, though,

the experiment yielded nothing of positive value.

But listen to me rambling on!

I'm sure you surmised all this from your training.

They did cover this stuff, right?

Yes. They did. Every last bit.

Great! We can use that as a

jumping off point for my own theories!

Let us review, shall we?

Huh? Well, I--

Consider how the Titans sus--

Section Commander Hange, come quickly!

The test subjects!

They're dead! Both of them killed!

Sawney! Beane!

How could this happen?!

Someone tell me this isn't real!

They were such valuable specimens.

Is this a soldier's work?

Yeah. But they haven't pegged the one responsible yet.

They were killed just before dawn, apparently.

By the time the guards got here,

the bastard cleared out on ODM gear.

Whoever it was must've had a lookout

to warn him about the guards.

Sawney!

Oh dear.

Someone's gone stark raving mad, haven't they?

How did this-- How'd it happen?

Let it go. This is a matter for the Military Police.

Uh. Yes, sir.

What is it you think you see?

Who do you think the real enemy is here?

Ignore me. Loaded question. young griff#4056

As the manhunt for the assassin of

Sawney and Beane gets underway.

Mikasa, Armin, and their comrades

in the 104th Cadet Corps must,

for better or worse, decide to which regiment

they will pledge their lives.