Anime/manga: Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin
Pairing: Eren/Mikasa
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: T
*SPOILER WARNING IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED EPISODES 8 and 9
Die Young
.:i hear your heartbeat:.
Death. It was all the world offered those that lived in it.
Death. It would come swiftly and silently for some, loud and abruptly for others. In the end it didn't matter how it manifested itself, be it a blade, a cannon, or a titan's mouth, because everyone suffered the same fate.
Death. It was cruel and robbed the world of brilliance; it was beautiful and ended the pain of the suffering.
Death. It couldn't be cheated.
And yet…
Mikasa's arms tightened around the limp body of her childhood friend, the last of what remained of her family. She could feel his heart beating inside his sturdy chest, could feel his lungs fill with oxygen and deflate as he exhaled. He was alive or she was dead too; either way it didn't really matter. He was there, in her arms, breathing.
She wanted to stay like that forever, just holding him. Her insides had been frozen, dead almost. She had found the courage to live, to fight for a world he no longer existed in, but she had still been in pain, had still wanted to cut her own heart out with her blade. She had been desperate to join him but hadn't wanted to let his death be in vain. He had died fighting for what he had believed in and she was going to honor his sacrifice, defeating the Titans in his name.
And then…
…he had come back to her.
She faintly became aware of the sound of someone crying and realized that it was her, that the keening noises that were loud enough to wake the dead were coming from her open mouth as salty tears streamed endlessly down her face. Her limbs were trembling and numb, her throat raw from her sobs.
It was unbecoming of her, this display of passion. She had troops to lead, soldiers to save, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Let them watch, let them see that Mikasa Ackerman was not some flawless human or a heartless killing machine. Let them hear her cries of agony and relief, let them be moved by her vulnerability.
She was strong, but because she was strong she was fragile. Because no matter how strong she became, there were things she couldn't change, there were things she couldn't bring back. Her mother and father, her adopted mother…all gone. She was strong yet fragile because when she failed she failed much harder than the rest, because she failed when she couldn't because others had. With her strength had come responsibility and it was burden great and heavy.
With her strength had come the knowledge that there were others beneath her, others weaker and more vulnerable. They had been ranked for the love of God, ranked so they could see the difference in their strength. They had been given numbers, numbers that might as well have determined the order in which they would lose their lives with ten being the first and one—her—being the last. It was a cruel system, but a necessary one.
The Elite would always be instructed to guard the rear, to keep the citizens alive. The less talented would always be frontline, always the first to meet the enemy, always the first to die. It didn't make sense to her; shouldn't the Elite brave the storm while the rest helped in the escape? What good was it in sending the weaker units out to fight first if they barely slowed the Titans down? A single Elite soldier could halt the advance significantly, might even survive, so then why were they the ones always the safest?
There were a thousand other questions stampeding through her mind in addition to those, questions that needed answering, questions more important to her sanity and wellbeing.
How had Eren survived? Armin had surely seen him devoured, for the look on his face had been one of total anguish, but was there the possibility he had imagined it? Why had Eren turned into a Titan? Was he dangerous? Would he remember who he was?
She began to hiccup, her body unable to take the continued outburst of emotion. She could barely breathe, could feel her throat tightening. She was just so, so happy. She was happy that she'd been given another chance to protect him, happy to be given another chance to stand at his side. He was all that was good in her world, was the one that had rescued her from her loneliness.
She could live without him, but that didn't mean she wanted to. She could fight and carry on the torch, but she would rather have him there to help her.
She didn't care how he'd survived. She didn't care if Armin had imagined it. She didn't care if Eren was a Titan or that he could be dangerous or that he might not remember her. She didn't care.
He was alive. And that was enough for her.
A/N: I may turn this into a series of drabbles. What do you think?