A/N: This was originally written for Day 1 (Theme: The Fool / The Chariot)of RivaMikaWeek Cycle 6 in December 2015!
Ryokou-Sha
Rating: K+
Summary: Before their future must come the past.
His departure at dusk is utterly silent, with none of the fanfare that accompanies every combat entrance and exit of Humanity's Strongest, yet retaining all of the spontaneity. Little by little he had collected his belongings within this ordinary carriage – one of the last still untainted by the blood of corpses – all in preparation for this moment, when he would slip away in the midst of celebrations, veiled by the shroud of joyous uproars and drunken cognizance.
"Captain!"
Every flicker of instinct orders his body to not react to the familiar voice, yet Levi's wrists succumb to reflex and yanks against the reins, halting the stallions ahead mid-stride. Aging leather provokes awkward friction upon the layers of bandages tightly wrapped around his palms, reminding him yet again of recent victories and defeats – of fresh scars and callouses that will no doubt mar his skin for decades to come.
"Captain!"
Levi remains absolutely motionless, throbbing muscles still too fatigued to turn his torso around. The heat of sunset takes opportunity to singe invisible flames along his back, as if warning that his eyes will also be lit ablaze if he dares to confront its rays.
Then again, are these merely subliminal excuses for my indifference?
The contemplation barely concludes before she enters his peripheral, lips half-opened in an abandoned attempt to call for him a third time. Instead, from between her teeth come gasping breaths, each hinting at her efforts of desperate pursuit.
"The war is over, Mikasa." From his position above, he stares forward and speaks with even more forwardness. "You and I are no longer soldiers, much less superior and subordinate. There is no more reason for military etiquette."
He knows that she out of all people understands, for now is when forget begins – when all those years of struggle can finally be shoved into the unreachable hollows of their memories. Nevertheless, they will be riddled by the guilt of their sheer strength, of their capability to survive all those gambles with death. Each witnessed sacrifice is now a weight upon the delicate balance of their sanity, and they will too often wonder why fate traded countless other lives for their own.
"Le-Levi." A brief pause - and then she says his name sans title like a stranger would, testing its concise syllables against a nervous, untrained tongue. "Where…are you going? You're not even completely recovered yet."
There is worry in her voice, uneasy inflections signifying the observation of his many bandaged wounds. But underneath it all, he senses, also lingers anticipation.
"Everything still fucking hurts." He grinds his teeth, for even the stitches on his cheek threaten to rip with every spoken word. "But getting away from here and finding some fresher air will probably help with that…"
A flash of movement, and Mikasa's fingers are actually gripping a corner of his vehicle, unfettered by any risk of splinters.
"You didn't answer my question – where are you going from here?"
Levi wavers at the abrupt tenacity in her tone, and that sore neck manages to twist just a few degrees, allowing their eyes to finally meet. A sigh almost escapes when the resulting spectacle reminds him that she has suffered similar levels of damage from the final clashes - for her wrists, and even her forehead, are still enveloped in white strips. Her lips are pursed tightly, and he stares – for perhaps a second too long – before remembering to respond.
"I could ask the same of you, Mikasa, though I could venture a guess." He counters. "Where will you and the other brat—the others be settling? Close to the ocean?"
As if on cue with his mention of the waters, a gentle breeze sweeps past them, and she is forced to brush aside the locks of hair that wander into her eyes. "Yes, eventually, as Armin has always wished…"
"…but his wish is not yours right now."
He completes the thought the young woman likely had not planned to voice, for the doubt within her grey eyes is beyond apparent. After months of fighting side-by-side, it's far too easy for him to decipher even the slightest shift in her resolve. But whereas before such changes meant fatal consequence, now they indicate something akin to opportunity.
"I've always wanted to see the ocean…and now that I have, it is even more beautiful than I ever imagined." Mikasa mutters, almost shamefully. "But no matter how long I stare at the water, or how far I look into the horizon, I still feel something…lacking."
"And why is that?"
"The reason why everyone else can settle down is because they are all making amends with their pasts, yet I…"
"…you still barely know what your real story even is." Once more, he finishes on her behalf.
She nods, and suddenly her concealed arm lifts to expose a rather large sack, giving him a mere second to absorb the reveal before she tosses it sloppily into the cart. Only then does Levi realize that Mikasa has read his intentions just as well this entire time – that she has probably watched him load this carriage, plan his "escape," and God-knows-what-else.
"You actually know where I'm headed, don't you, Mikasa?"
"I could venture a guess." She echoes his previous words without reluctance, one corner of her lips twitching into a rare grin.
He thinks of what is currently tucked into his back pocket – "The List," as he dubbed his own handiwork, full of scribbles detailing all the rumored locations where Ackerman clan members were last seen. The memory of them first alluding to this shared connection together – coincidentally also upon a carriage – remains fresh on his mind.
Before the thought traverses further, he notices Mikasa extending a hand upward. And as they have done countless times in battle, he mimics the movement back in her direction. As two bandaged grips join, elevating her to join his journey officially as companion, Levi silently acknowledges that their bond, though still encased in mystery for now, will always be more resilient than even the most apparent of relationships.
"It's a damn scary place, the distant past...the unknown. Probably not for the faint-hearted."
"Seems perfect for us, then." She glances at him, and the remnants of dusk cast a vivid glow upon half of her façade, igniting both their motivations ablaze.
"Tch."
[Fin]
A/N: If Ackertalk doesn't take place again in canon, this is how I would envision the two of them at the conclusion of the story. Spin-off, anyone?