Summary: Because once you enter the battlefield you have to be prepared to lose everything, even the small ones, just like your heart.
One week has passed when Mike died and the funny thing with Hanji is that she never thought of him in that span of seven days. Not when she entered Mike's room just to bug him about Levi's moodiness, only to find his (Mike's) vice captain perched on the windowsill with a glum look, contemplating about the large shoes he is to fill. She never thought of him when Irvin called her into his office one night, only to look up and ask where Mike is, then freeze midway, with a flicker of sorrow on pass through the mask he wore in front of her, of Levi, and all the cadets. Hanji just blinked at him, waiting until Irvin waved her off, telling her that he'd tell her tomorrow morning, only to be forgotten. She didn't think of Mike as she sat by the edge of the wall, looking down on the ugly creatures she once loved, the same ones that tore him part by part until he can no longer be identified.
She wasn't angry Mike died. She was angry he just left so unexpectedly, in a blink of an eye he was gone, and she didn't even had the chance to say goodbye. She knew that when she entered the Scouting Legion she had to throw everything away, because if she didn't she was bound to lose everything she clung on to. She had to be unattached, feelings of love, hope, joy, happiness must evaporate. Only despair, thirst for vengeance and hate must envelope her entire being, because, just like what her father said before, "once you enter the battlefield, you have to be prepared to lose everything, even the small ones, just like your heart."
She knew it was true, and so she didn't open herself up, she was too scared, scarred and too tired to lose everything she had. No matter how long or how short, she loses them.
Then Mike came, stupid, weird, abnormal Mike, who was exactly like her. She liked him, and he liked her, and they knew that they'd be together from pranks to serious talks, from cover-ups to standing for one another, they were a team, he was her partner. Her best friend. And then he died. The funny thing is that Mike was so reassured of his future, his plan of death. She remembered their promises to one another vividly on a cold Monday morning, with the warmth of burning bodies comforting their tired bones, drying the slick grasp of death on their bodies.
"I won't, I would never be killed by them, I swear. I'd rather die peacefully in my bed with booze dribbling down my chin than get eaten. That's why I promise that I would survive."
Hanji smiled at him, comforted by the silly thought of surviving the unexpected, of looking forward to days that were out of reach and the stupidity of his way of reassuring himself that he wouldn't die. "You can never be so sure."
He snorted, smirking irksomely, "You can have my nose if ever I die unexpectedly."
She shook her head and walked away, he was one of the strongest, surely not a single titan can make him fall down. She was naive to think of it that way, there were no reassurances in their lives, just like when she sleeps, there is no guarantee that there would be a tomorrow waiting for her. And, regarding Mike, she didn't even get a chance to bottle up his nose as a remembrance the day he died.
She learned to forget about him and the days that were long gone. She learned to accept that Mike, just like the others who have died is just one life, one life that contributed to mankind's fight, one life that can never be brought back. And so she was surprised to dream of him on the tenth night after his death, she remembered crying like a wounded dog the moment she woke up, tears streaming down her face, hands outstretched, reaching for a man that was no longer there. For the first time after Mike died, she grieved for him. Angry, bitter tears and screams of despair upon her lips.
She wasn't surprised to hear her door slam open with blinding light accompanying the sudden outburst. She wasn't surprised to feel anger emanating from the source of light and noise, wasn't surprised when she heard angry footfalls nearing her bed or when a snarl escaped the person's lips.
"Get a grip." cold, monotonous, lacking of sleep and full of annoyance.
But her tears continued to fall.
"Hanji," threatening, "snap out of it. When will you stop? For God's sake, everyone in the wing would've thought that you're having an episode. One more and you'll be sent to an asylum. Are you even—Snap out of it."
She looked up, tears brimming her swollen eyes, staring at the blurry figure of the Corporal, with eyes menacing, hair in a mess, jaw clenched.
"What's wrong with crying? This is the first time I cried about Mike, can't I grieve for a friend I lost now, Heichou?" She asked sarcastically, she didn't have time for him, not now. Not when she's vulnerable and different and small and weak. Not when he's standing tall with a cold grimace, a mask covering his face, not when he's acting like people dying is a normal occurrence in the world. "Leave me alone, Levi. I ask of you as a person, not as someone you just order around because I disturbed your beauty sleep."
"Stop it. You're not the only one who lost Mike, you're not the only one who lost someone that day. Nanaba lost Mike, Irvin lost Mike, I lost Mike. We lost a lot of people the day we entered the legion, we lost a lot of people the moment we led, we lose a lot of people every excursion, every attempt. Nothing's changed and you just have to accept that. You can't just clam up, dead to the world when everyone needs you. You just can't do this, not when I'm not here to keep an eye on you—"
"You don't understand! I lost Mike! I lost half of me Levi, half of me! You never had this connection with him, I spent three years training with him, every night talking about our hopes and dreams! Another five years gallivanting, behaving like juveniles, talking bad about you and being stuck up, about new recruits that look so hopeful, thinking that they would conquer the world! Five years we killed titan after titan longing for a day when we can just sleep peacefully and think of nothing, eight years of tolerating me, my existence, my eccentricity what not even a single person other than my father has tolerated.
"I threw everything away because I don't want to experience losing anyone else, I left my heart but I locked it, promising myself that no one could ever go past it, that no one can break the walls I put up. But Mike, Mike accepted me for who I am, Mike became my friend, Mike stood up for me, Mike protected me, Mike—Mike and I, the two of us, we, I, he, he is half of me. And then one day, he leaves. Just like people always do. They come and leave whenever they please and when they do, they take away a part of you, a piece of your heart, leaving you with nothing but a hole that can never be filled. They leave you with a part of you that you can never take back, and Mike occupied half of me, and he took that away from me. Tell me, do you feel the same way as I do?"
She watched him, eyes begging him to understand something he couldn't. He stood there with nary a blink by her bedside, hand clenched on the lamp's handle. She wondered how many people he watched die, how many lives slipped past his fingers and how he managed to cope. Levi was not like her: Strongest, vicious, relentless, fearless, dedicated and cruel. He was honed by time, sharpened by the sharp edge of life at an early age. He was used to this kind of world, she wasn't and she wanted—needed reassurance, an anchor to hold on to now that she's drowning in this sea of confusion and despair.
"I don't." He said jaggedly, eyes meeting hers with emptiness. "And I don't want to. In this cruel world, Hanji, emotions, attachments should be cast away. There should be no room for such foolishness. You lose if you get yourself attached, you continue to remember until it poisons you, until memories, guilt, feelings and emotions eat you alive, there's no point agonizing about what has happened. Nothing."
He turned to leave, not waiting for her reply. She watched him walk away from her, reaching the door in two more steps. She wanted to get rid of it but she didn't want to throw it away, she wants someone to keep it, the remaining part of her, someone—
"Levi."
He stopped, hand on the knob, the light blocked by his figure. He didn't answer, but he stayed and for her, it was enough.
"You're humanity's strongest, right? Even worth a hundred soldiers as they said." She laughed. "You wouldn't die, right? Not now, not tomorrow, not in the next years. You're the strongest, right? Can I—I'll give you half of my heart, what's left of me. Keep it—keep it safe, would you? You won't lose it, would you?"
"Hanji," tiredly, "why would you even give that part of you to me?"
She rubbed her tears away and smiled at the dumb look on his face,
"Because if it's you Levi, I don't mind at all."