Hey! Welcome to another SNK fanfic that will no doubt takeover my life. As if expected, I suppose. I don't own SNK because if I did, there'd be less pain. Or more. Your call. Feedback is loved.

His – his is her preferred pronoun even though he had long laughingly insisted that he had given it to her, that it was no longer his – red scarf skims her collarbone as she pivots where she stands, flat gray eyes following Eren as he paces back and forth on the sidewalk, his boots scraping the cement roughly with every turn. She's waiting for it and can see the words on the tip of his tongue, waiting to burst out.

"You're right," it finally comes out in a rush and Mikasa's stinging to say I told you so, but she doesn't of course. That would be petty. She only listens as he plows on. "I should have asked before the last minute. Hannes will say no. Because what guardian would let us drop out of high school. Right? And then we'll have to wait. Years. And what if I'm not even good enough? I want to fight alongside people like… Erwin Smith. Or Levi." He pauses in his words, eyes gleaming in hero-worship.

"Eren," she cuts over him before he could continue, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Hannes will say yes. You know he will. We'll get those internships. You'll fight fire alongside your heroes." She coughs two words into her scarf, just loud enough for him to hear her. "Or crushes." She tries to make light of this, but she doesn't like the idea of his infatuation with his heroes. Perhaps she's just jealous, but that would be petty.

"I do not have crushes on them," Eren exclaims, a tinge of pink flooding his face. He shoves his fists into his pockets and glowers when Mikasa laughs. Still, he looks more reassured now, and that reassures Mikasa. They wait in relative silence as the sun begins to sink behind the gray-blue city line, and a familiar car pulls up into the driveway. Mikasa holds her breath, wanting and hoping for Hannes to tell them no, but she knows he won't. She knows he's already prepared for the question, has already spent a week thinking it over. All because she told him.

It hasn't occurred to Eren, but Hannes of all people knew what it was like to hate fire, to want vengeance.

"Hannes," Eren cries out, pushing forward to meet up with the man halfway. Mikasa nods quietly at her guardian, and he offers her a nod back before smiling down at Eren.

"Is this about dropping out of high school?" He asks Eren, a flicker of amusement on his face.

Eren freezes then gapes. "…how did you know!?"

They're talking, and she can hear Eren laughing at some Hannes said, and she feels happy. She doesn't like that this is what he wants, but she's going to be there for him anyways. Her gaze sweeps over his green eyes and wide grin, and she can feel a smile on her lips. She had promised to keep him safe, and she would.

(There are ember-like particles glittering above them, thick in the gust of the fire, and she is struck by wonder for a moment, and all she sees are stars. Then the heat is pressing against her, and her bare feet burns. She grits her teeth against the pain, but she doesn't allow her eyes to flutter close, no matter how much she wants to. Mikasa's easing forward, Eren's name on her lips, and then she hears his scream.

She sees him, and then she sees his mother trapped underneath a dislodged beam. Her breath is caught along with the smoke in her throat, but then she coughs it out, reaching out to hold his hand and to pull his shirt over his mouth. He ignores her, pushing it down and crying and telling his mother to please stop it, to get up. She tells them to run dammit, and why are you always so stubborn, Eren? Then I love you, I love you, I love you, and then someone is pulling them away from the flames, and it's her who hears the woman's last words.

Her eyelids are fluttering, and she chokes out for Mikasa to keep her safe, to promise her. "Promise me, Mikasa.")

"I promise," she breathed out the words she had uttered years ago as she follows them inside.

… taller than he could ever damn imagine, but he'd end them, he would … a man pushing him against the stables, eyes not quite dry but shouting, "I'm counting on you, Eren, I'm counting on you" … a familiar flicker of a red scarf … how many ways could his comrades die? … no, no, NO, NONONONONO SHE TOLD HIM TO TRUST THEM, TO HAVE FAITH IN THEM –

He gasps out a breath, sitting up with sticky sweat settled on his shoulders, gleaming on his forehead. It was Mikasa who shook him awake, and he's grateful to her for that. He tries to catch what's left of the dream, but there's nothing but an ice-cold something lodged into his ribs. "Not the fire again," he tells her before she asks, and she knows well enough not to ask. They both dream about the fire, but they have other dreams, too. Dreams they can't remember.

Eren doesn't want to dwell on it, not today of all days, and so he twists out from his bed sheets and to the bathroom. He stares at himself for a moment in the cracked mirror, sleepy-eyed. He's going to do it. Finally. He puts the radio onto something loud as he scuffles through his drawers. The music is thrumming through his bones, loud and obnoxious and just the way he likes it and Mikasa hates it. He wants her to tell him to turn the damn music down, but she never will. She shouldn't be doing this with him. Her grades are prodigious, and she excels in every way possible.

He's taking that away from her, and he hates it.

Still, he's so, so excited. Then he freezes and turns toward the open door. "The hell am I supposed to wear?" There's panic in his voice, and he can hear Mikasa's quiet laugh from somewhere in the kitchen. She enters his room again, nibbling on a corner of toast. "Something formal, Eren," she smiles then wrinkles her nose. "Or, seeing it's you, something without a stain on it."

He stares at her resentfully. She's wearing some dark blue dress, draped over her elegantly with fancy straps, and her hair is up into something fancy with braids. It's all very fancy, really. "Don't judge me," he grunts before he wails melodramatically, slumping back into his bed. Something lands on his face, and he shifts up to see that Mikasa had thrown clothe at him.

"Get dressed," she calls back as she's leaving the room, and he's quick to pull up the jeans and button up the shirt. He looks at the mirror. The shirt's a light blue, and he thinks it looks nice but what does he know? He looks at the newspapers pasted all over his walls. There are none from six years ago, but there are many since then. God, he was going to be every much as good as them. The Scouting Legion, they called themselves. Best firefighters, and in this dry area where everyone lived submerged in trees, there were a hell lot of wildfires. He can only blame the fire, and that's all he can do for vengeance.

In the kitchen now, Eren stacks up his toasts generously, but then he finds he's not hungry at all. Armin's sitting at the table, and he sits down next to him with a grin. "Armin," he said. "Ready?"

"Course," Armin grins back. His blonde hair is tied back into a short ponytail, and he looks formal and things. Maybe this was not the right thing to wear. Before he can panic (more), Mikasa's leaning in to whisper something into Armin's ear, cradling the phone with the other. Armin laughs.

"What?" Eren demands.

Both of them offer him faint shrugs. Damn them. He tries something else. "Who're you talking to?" He asks Mikasa.

She answers promptly with, "Marco."

He stares at her, but it's not like he could tell if she was lying or not. She was always passive, face blank as granite. Armin was more sure when he lied, more confidence in his words. There was no hesitance. He groans, sinking his head into his folded arms. He had to do this.

Armin's always the designated driver. In this case, it's not like Eren could drive anyways. He's nervous but angry, and that's never a good thing when it comes to Eren. He pulls the truck to a stop, and he finds that his hands are shaking. He didn't even know he's nervous. Really, he's here for Eren. It's not because he needs Eren to be safe, it's nothing as big and weighing as why Mikasa's there for him. It's that Eren has always been the direction in his life, and he doesn't know where else to go.

If he didn't do this, he'd go to some Ivy league. Far away. Do smart things. He's not passionate about chess, and Eren always thought that was weird since Armin was the type that would be. He didn't care much for pawns and knights. He likes the here and now. Right here and right now, Armin would do something good, and it'd be with his friends at his side. He unlocks the car doors, and he can hear even from the front seat that Eren's breathing faster.

"Careful," he warns Eren as he opens his car door. "You don't want another asthma attack."

Mikasa stiffens, but Eren retorts playfully. "Can't help it, Armin. I'm breathless for you." His friend bats his eyelashes, and Armin can't help but laugh. "Give me a moment," Eren tells them both, and they exchange glances before they slip out the car.

Mikasa walks over to him. "You look tired," she raises an eyebrow at him, and he looks away.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Nervous?" She's never as protective over him, but he knows she cares about him. A lot. That's something he values. It's hard to win Mikasa's heart, but it's even harder to win her trust. Armin has both.

"No," he drops his gaze altogether. "Dreams."

"Have you told Eren you can remember them?" She presses, and he shakes his head no. "Good," her face is troubled. "Don't."

He's confused now. "I thought you wanted me to."

She brushes away a dark strand of hair from her eyes, meeting his gaze carefully. "That's before I remembered them, too."

Armin releases a breath he's been holding in. "That's impossible," the gears of his mind were turning, struggling to find an answer that fit, that's logical.

"There's more," she began quietly, voice low. "Marco called me, you know, but besides what I told you at breakfast, he mentioned something else." Mikasa hesitates, tugging idly at the scarf wrapped around her throat before she plows on. "Remember how – "

Whatever she was going to say, she's interrupted by Eren. "Shit," he swears, running a hand through his hair. Before Armin could even move, she's at his side. Armin quickly makes his way over to them, asking the obvious question.

"What ha – " Oh. The answer's as obvious as the question. He had slammed the door open, scratching the car next to them. "We'll just leave a note with our information, Eren," he says. It's not that bad, but he could see the panic rising in Eren's eyes.

"Yeah, true," Eren's calmer now, and he musters a laugh. He glances at the car's paint again, and Armin's wincing at the thought of how much this was going to cost. Before anything else could be said between them or before they could head inside to the Scouting Legion's base, someone spoke up.

"Oi, brats," the voice was cool, gritty with irritation but flat like Mikasa's. "Which of you want to explain this to me?"

Captain Levi.

Shit.

...dundundundun.

Oh, fine, yes, I couldn't wait to introduce Levi. Sue me. Know that while there are a lot midway ships, the end ships I'm not confident about. So any input from you guys will definitely be considered.