"MIKASA GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
The chillingly sweet air, a hint of metallic bitterness assaulting her nostrils, she inhaled rejuvenated her. Eyelids fluttered shut as she blissfully disregarded Armin's alarm. The clashing and hot bursts of steams dissipated with her exhale. Her surroundings were an opaque black, a veil of dark webs which diminished any light.
She was suddenly exhausted. The years of back-breaking training anchored her to the branch. From her fingertips to her toes a freezing numbness spread, creeping and consuming everything in her weakness. Her very life energy was sapped away in the time span of mere seconds. This drained feeling was painless, but it left a vast, cavernous room inside. Unoccupied, she was but an empty husk.
Mikasa was a strong woman. Everyone in the 104th squad knew that. Everyone in the Survey Corps knew that. But even the strongest of people shatter, break, fragmentize into pieces so microscopic it's impossible to put back together.
The ravenette looked to the side at Armin's commotion. His arms flailed, mouth formed into unheard screams. Armin was her composed friend with a sanguine disposition; only in dire circumstances did he raise his voice. And certainly he did not distract himself so much with her welfare, he neglected the gruesomely wide titan smile diagonal him.
Mikasa sighed, fatigue leaving her body prostrate. "Armin, stop sho—"
The swinging club of an arm in her periphery vision decelerated. Every blemish, every last dimple in tanned skin, was defined. The titan's inherent malformations forged themselves into her eyelids.
Titans.
Eren.
Titans.
Eren.
Titans.
Eren.
Eren.
Eren.
Grotesque images, memories of recent events, the death of her beloved friend, and the grins of these behemoths clashed whenever she blinked. It was her luck that the arm swung down before she could blink. She would prefer the physical pain over the emotional agony. Anything to forget, even for an instance, because..
Pain was fleeting, but memories were forever.
Mikasa's habitual instincts kicked in. She leapt atop a neighbouring branch and wheeled around, slit glare on an ever-ugly titan. The lambent sun that momentarily flitted through the dense canopy highlighted its inflated body, lanky arms, twisted legs. Auburn landscape-sized eyes mirrored the bedlam encircling her.
"Your kind so foolishly killed Eren," the wispy accusation left her. "You murdered my last family member, and because of that, I am alone."
As if ignoring her disconsolate feverish words, the titan pulled back a fist.
"I am the last member of the Jaëger family. Even if by blood I am an Ackerman, by heart I am a Jaëger. I will carry on Eren's name and legacy."
The behemoth and the human shared a meaningful stare. A concentrated anguish flooded through Mikasa's usual calculating visage; a glazed over film coated the titan's eyes. The gaze was nearly endearing, save for the sirenic beauty's abrupt war cry and swift bounds.
Mikasa bounded down her branch, long legs and flexible body springing in an instantaneous upsurge. She unsheathed her twin blades, her 3D Maneuver Gear's arms catching clamping onto bark, crossed her wrists, and erupted in a deafening ululate.
"For Eren," the slicing wind and vociferous shouts of companions bled her ears, "and Carla, I will kill every last titan! You are all MINE!"
Eren's objective was to avenge his mother, and so it was her ambition to avenge them both. Her vow was to rain blood, to annihilate mankind's most prominent enemy, to bring honour to Eren when they were reunited once more.
Unmindful to her cascading tears, Mikasa emitted one last bellow before meeting the titan blades first.
A dreary sky accompanied a dreary day.
She had to remember she wasn't alone when mourning the fallen. The entire Survey Corps had lost friends, family, loved ones. She wasn't special when it came to feeling this abjection. She was only one of many who suffered this..anguish.
Mikasa occupied the horse stables, unintentionally eavesdropping on Connie and Sasha who were stationed a close fifteen feet from her. Well, it wasn't like they whispered quietly. Rather loudly, and annoying.
"Mikasa looks dead," Connie muttered, brushing the mane of a handsome tawny horse.
"You were there. Eren was one of the causalities," Sasha solemnly informed. She herself wasn't acting effervescent, as was her usual bearing. She gave a pregnant pause before continuing. "And you know how close they are.."
Connie imperceptibly nodded, catching Sasha's glance. "Do you think we should tell her something? Give our condolences for her loss?"
"Poor baby..I wonder how it feels to lose someone that important.."
"It's like not having food again, forever," said Connie.
"Worse. It's worse than never having food again."
There was an exchanged nod, followed by trepidation-filled steps.
"Mikasa?"
Mikasa looked up from her silver dappled horse. "Yes?"
Sasha inaudibly gasped, before promptly grabbing Mikasa's alabaster hand. Her chocolate eyes seemed to quiver emotionally as she searched Mikasa's reserved, demure expression. "Mikasa," she spoke like a mother to their child, "you look like..death.."
"I didn't get enough sleep last night," Mikasa muttered sullenly. "My smarting shoulder kept me awake."
"You dislocated it, right? That's what Jean said." Connie had taken up the brushing of her horse. If it comforted her in any way, if it bolstered their friend with her grievances, then..
Sasha attempted a smile. "Is that why we didn't see you at breakfast today? You must be hungry!" Hurriedly, she ran to her station, rustled around her satchel, and scurried back.
"No, Sasha, I'm fine—"
"Y-you can have one of my potatoes! I snuck them from the table for a snack later, but there's two so you can have one!"
Connie was at the point of objecting (Sasha had retrieved the potatoes from his satchel), though he reconsidered. He nodded curtly.
"You need one more than us." Sasha placed the ground vegetable into Mikasa's cupped hand. "You're going to starve if you don't eat. Take it," she pleaded.
"I only skipped one meal." The crinkly brown was a contrast to translucent skin. "I don't think I would die from that..but thank you."
"Why don't you relax? Your shoulder must be sore still, so why don't you go? Connie and I can take it from here."
"These aren't your duties. You were assigned your horses, and I was assigned mine."
"You're in no condition to work!" argued Sasha, a frown marring her tanned skin.
"I said I can."
Connie inattentively dawdled in his brushing. He made a face as if he'd eaten a rancid fruit. It occurred to Mikasa he would feel left out in a conversation like this. "Mikasa..just relax. Eren would want you to rest."
Mikasa cradled the offering in her arms. Connie and Sasha both gave her a stare of the same intensity, of concern and disquietude. She hesitated, repented, and briskly nodded.
Outside the cool sprinkles of rain pelted the ground into muddy puddles. She had always liked the rain. Rain purged the world of the dirtiness and mistakes humans made. Not to mention the feel it had on her skin; lukewarm, trickling down her heated body, slicking her hair. Rain brought a smell of fresh grass and a clouded sky. Clouds meant no sun. No sun meant no titans. No titans meant no fighting, or deaths.
Mikasa hurried her steps from a slow walk, to a half jog, and finally a vigorous sprint. If she could somehow run from her problems, life would be much easier. Then again, she never was one to run away. She always stood, headstrong, against an offending difficulty. Running was for the weak; and still, she strained her body to run.
"Mikasa I'm gonna get you! You gotta run faster than that!" The voice breezed past her ear, a traveling evanescence on the wind. There was no one trailing her and she knew it.
Eren. His voice, so familiar and close. She would run faster because she wouldn't want to get caught. If caught she would be it. She liked Eren being it, because then he would willingly chase after her. He would be the one who was disappointed after every turn, finding she was long gone. Eren would search for her and her alone.
That thought in mind, she lowered her head and picked up speed.
When Mikasa did stop running, chest heaving from the exertion, she found herself detached from the rest of the camp. They bustled busily to hone their combat skills, she idled hesitantly by the trees that encompassed their camp. They were them, the innocent oblivious to her tragedies, and she was herself, the girl who lost it all.
How unfair could life get. She spit at the fact that regardless of what she did, things would not revert back to normal. She had failed in her duties to protect Eren, whatever the cost. Her own life was useless if she couldn't succeed in as simplistic a task as guarding her loved ones. She was useless.
"I'm sorry, Eren," apologized Mikasa sincerely. Nearing a tree, she quivered. A drop of clear liquid trickled off her chin to land precisely on her hand, a diamond on calloused skin. "I'm sorry I let you down."
The overcast sky crackled with lightning, the threat of a downpour looming. Let it rain. Let her get soaked. She deserved a far worse punishment for her idiotic self, for her sluggish reaction, for the loss of mankind's greatest weapon. The blame fell solely on her shoulders, and it couldn't have weighed more than the burden of the sky itself.
"Can you ever forgive me?"
A roll of thunder answered in melancholy. Even the world was in a state of woe.
"I'm sorry," she begged pardon mirthless. "Eren, forgive me..please..! Please!"
Another, closer, lighting bolt cracked across the grey atmosphere, disrupting any remaining peace. The wind picked up to a swirling breeze. Sprinkling water met dry earth in the sudden predicted storm, bathing her, mingling with her salty tears.
"Eren I want to know I'm forgiven! I want to know you don't hate me!" Mikasa clutched at her hair. This tumult of emotions, anger, denial, fear, raging within was equivalent to glass shards tearing at her innards. The guilt was killing her, an ailment with no cure.
"I-I want you to tell me you aren't upset! Please! If you don't, what am I supposed to do?! Eren!"
Her everything wasn't responding. Without a doubt, she was positively alone. Armin wouldn't understand. He and Eren were best friends, but he wouldn't bemoan and agonize for his loss as she did. They were brothers, she and Eren were more.
Mikasa vigorously rubbed her hazy vision away, blinking against the torrent. She left her hands at her face, the day's events vividly replaying. "Why won't you answer?! Eren, answer!"
Eren, don't ignore me. I've upset you. I know I have, and I'm dearly sorry. Do not leave me with only this desolate silence..please..
A passing flash of blinding light, a streaking bolt cutting through a tree miles away, and she had knelt to the ground. Her barriers were eroding away. Her mentality of a strong leader was chipping, exposing a hurting, lost child. She was strong, but she was not unbreakable.
So, Mikasa wailed. Crying showed weakness. Weakness was what she wasn't. Was she weak because she cried? She would like to think not, for she wailed for her deceased family, and wailing was a different subject from crying.
Mikasa fisted the grass in her fingers. Her breath hitched uncontrollable, whether from her sobbing or the downpour did not matter. She would go on pitying herself, regretting her foolish mistakes, if it were not for a sturdy hand. The soldier tensed.
"Ackerman."
Mikasa rotated her upper body, shamefully cleaning her mud splattered hands on the soaking grass. Those steel grey eyes were comforting. Firm and stable. They would be constant, their owner being an imperishable legend. Levi.
"S-sir."
Levi overlooked her dirtied body, frowned in repulsion, and clicked his tongue. "Look at you. You're an appalling, soaking mess. At this rate, you'll catch hypothermia."
"With all due respect," Mikasa verbalized tacitly, "I'd rather be alone."
"Like I give a rat's ass. Ackerman, get back to your room and change into dry clothes."
"Sir—"
"That's an order."
His hair slicked back, the emerald cloak cast over his shoulders dampened to a darkened malachite, Levi's youthful face was sculpted into seriousness. Mikasa snapped her mouth shut. She wouldn't want to earn any punishment; the nearly spotless record she maintained would be tarnished, as would her pride. Subjected to the shorter man's orders, Mikasa unsteadily rose. Bumping past him, she did not waste any time in breaking into a new dash.
After her footsteps receded, Levi ran his thin digits through his matted hair. He cast another glance to her previously occupied spot, then to the dismal heavens. His coattails twisting behind him, he stalked towards the camp.
A depressed soldier would not make a good fighter. He would take it under his wing to fix her.
I'm thinking of what trouble this girl will bring..Damn.