A/N: This is my first written contribution to any fandom in a long time, so I hope my deteriorated writing skills aren't showing too harshly. All I can say is: the LeviMika ship was simply too difficult to resist, especially for an AU like this. You can also visit a Tumblr (fuku-shuu) that I've created specifically for this, since I plan to create artwork for it in the near future as well.
Summary: His gaze curiously pursued every delicate movement of her dance, his mind ignoring its usual alertness as to whatever dangerous intentions she might possess. Levi/Mikasa. Dystopian Mafia AU.
Prologue
"Might I introduce…our most splendid jewel of all?"
The delicate beaded curtains Mikasa faced gradually parted, exposing her form to the small audience seated on the floor, just behind the low-rise table which split the room in half and created her makeshift stage. Behind the wooden fan that shielded part of her visage, she grinned lightlylightly she grinned lightly at the slacked jaws of tally parted, exposing at the now-slackened jaws of some of the visitors. Even the impassive eyes of the rest still exhibited a tinge of shock; shock that someone of her background – the last of her kind – was just centimeters away from them.
Gently, she rose from her own seated position like a blossoming bulb – or rather, she mused, a wilting flower returning to life. The scarlet fabric of her kimono shifted gently against each of her movements, allowing the golden threads of its embroidery to showcase their previously disguised luster. Such a brief distraction allowed her to further scrutinize those across from her without suspicion.
She recognized them all from memory: the two trusted guards, one lanky and one muscular – a most odd couple who could not and should not be underestimated; the mad scientist, with her berserk eyes that bulged out even beyond the frames of her glasses; the leader, with his golden, perfectly center-parted hair and perceptive stare.
The leader. Her target.
And then there was him. The second-in-command. A figure of mystery whose seemingly nonchalant gaze appeared to penetrate right through her.
She shuddered and looked downward.
"Ymir, I did not realize that you had someone of her background on your roster. What a jewel indeed." The leader, Erwin, finally spoke.
The freckled woman at the side of the room chuckled, "Yes. She is rumored to be the last. And also the last to be skilled in Noh Mai. That is what she shall perform for you and your syndicate tonight."
"Come again?"
"Noh Mai." Mikasa heard her voice declare softly – as softly as she trained herself to sound, at least - before Ymir could respond. "It is my culture's traditional dance…soon to be as lost as a fleeting memory."
"I see." Erwin raised his eyebrows in a vague display of fascination, while Hanji, the notorious scientist, could not control her enthrallment in the slightest.
"Go, go! Let us watch it!"
The two guards behind her simultaneously grunted in annoyance.
Erwin raised one arm in a gesture of invitation. "Well then, please go ahead, miss…"
"You may call me Mikasa." She bowed. The perfect bow, as her mother had always taught her.
As she raised her head, she met those impassive eyes at Erwin's side once more. This time, they were coupled with the apprehensive furrow of thin brows, as if he were already critiquing her pending dance steps or detecting imminent flaws. To her relief, the music immediately sounded, permitting her to quickly turn away again and begin her routine.
With each drumbeat, her limbs flowed like languid ribbons across the stage, in a constant promenade alongside her coordinated footsteps. Her fingers manipulated her fan as she pleased, tracing invisible patterns in the air that lingered in the form of deviating shadows, each punctuated by a harsh pitch from the flute. As usual, she temporarily lost herself in the dance, though she knew that this time, part of her self-hypnosis stemmed from a desire to avoid looking into those gunmetal blue orbs for the rest of the night.
As the music lethargically crescendoed towards climax, the glint of a blade reflected briefly against her iris as she gingerly slipped the short sword from her silk sleeve into her palm.
Soon, you will perish for your sins.
Fukushuu [復讐] Vengeance; Revenge