.seven.
{the pen and the inkstand}
There had been no begging. There had been no tears. There had been a period of awkwardness between them, a chasm that was developing as Levi got the preparations in order. She didn't speak to him for a week after the papers had gone in out of pure pettiness. Mikasa had sensed his frustrations over her silence from the moment she withdrew from him, and out of bitterness she decided to test just how angry she could make him.
Yell at me, Mikasa begged, staring into his eyes after he'd dragged her back to the house from playing ball with Stefan and Kaethe and Ada and Pieter and Lisbet and Rob and… and she knew there were more, but she didn't care for their names. The faces changed daily. The heels of her palms and her knees were skinned. Her red dress was smeared with a coating of dirt, and there was blood dribbling down her leg. Go on, Levi, yell at me.
He took a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Mikasa," he said, his jaw clenching. Yell at me! "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
She averted her gaze, pressing her lips together thinly. There was a prickle of shame as she turned her head from him, defiant to give in to him. No. She would not speak to him. She didn't care how silly it made her seem, or how petty. She was angry, and she was upset. Yell at me, damn it!
Instead of yelling, he grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her to the sink, shoving her bloody hands under the faucet. She recoiled in shock, blinking rapidly against the harsh sting, and she twisted away from him while biting her tongue. It hurt a lot, and she squeezed her eyes shut as he began to dab at her fleshless palms with a cloth. The bite of pain tingled up her arms, shaking her nerves.
"This isn't going to work," he informed her, taking one of her injured hands delicately. She had her head bowed, her hair curtaining her face. "You don't need to grab at my attention. You already have it." He pressed the damp cloth to her shredded palm, and she gritted her teeth. "It's not gonna stop me, though."
She looked up at him. Stared into his eyes, gave him a long, pitilessly hollow gaze. He returned one to her in kind. He pressed his hand into the damp cloth against her palm.
He made her sit down while he disinfected her knees. As he knelt, pressing a bandage against the skinned appendage, she found her voice. It was sharp and bitter inside her throat, scratching against her insides and smashing against her outsides.
"Why?" she asked, not for the first time. She watched him pause, his thumbs resting against her knee. "Why the Survey Corps? Why now?"
He sat crouching for a few moments before his hands dropped against his knees. "Mikasa…" His jaw shifted, signifying that he could not think of anything to say. She watched him chew on the inside of his cheek, and stare vacantly down at the bandage he had just applied.
"You shouldn't do it." Mikasa's shoulders were squared as she spoke, and she raised her head high. "Don't do this, Levi."
"It's already done."
Of course she knew that. She knew it so well, and it ached inside her heart. The knowledge that soon he would be gone. Soon he could be dead.
"What if you get eaten?" she asked, searching his face. "Kaethe keeps saying that's all the Survey Corps is good for." She watched his body, but he seemed to be unmoved by her statements. "Being eaten…"
"Kaethe is a bitch," Levi said. "Get new friends."
"Levi," Mikasa said, feeling a little desperate. "You don't have to join the Survey Corps—"
"Mikasa, I told you I don't want to fucking hear it."
"— You can join the Military Police—"
He scoffed at that.
"— Or the Garrison—"
"I'm joining the Survey Corps, Mikasa," Levi said firmly, taking both her hands. She stared at him, watching his eyes soften considerably. If she looked hard enough, she could see an apology written inside the depths of them. "It's the only reason I fucking enlisted."
"But why?" Mikasa was growing impatient. She grabbed his hands, which were clutching hers, and she ignored the horrible ache in them. He ignored that she was smearing blood across his fingers. "What happened? Is it because of Wall Maria? You can't reclaim it, and you know it. It's not possible."
"You're pretty cynical," Levi said, "for a bratty girl who hasn't even seen Wall Maria in a year and a half."
"I'm not wrong."
"I didn't say that," Levi said. He was still crouched before her, clutching her hands tightly. "But it changes nothing. My goals have nothing to do with Wall Maria."
"You're not going to tell me," Mikasa said. The quiet revelation stung more than any skinned knee, or hand. She felt like she had skinned her heart instead.
"I'll write."
"Will you?"
He scowled at her. "Why are you acting so bitchy all of a sudden?" He pushed himself to his feet. "I'm not trying to get away from you. I'll try to visit as much as I can."
"Visit." The word tasted like betrayal.
"Stop looking like that."
She'd been staring at her hands in dejection. She looked up at him, blinking confusedly. "What?" she asked.
"You look like I just killed a puppy, or something dumb like that." Levi stood rigidly, and she wondered what he was thinking. "Stop it."
She sat for a minute or so, simply staring up at him. Mikasa felt the truth beginning to gnaw at her. She would be alone soon. Totally and completely alone in a big, cruel world. She had asked if it was possible for her to come with him before. It was not. She was still under the age requirement to join the military. And Mikasa honestly had no real desire to join the military. She disliked the MPs, and distrusted most people affiliated with the military. And yet…
She felt as though she was being flung into the direction that would lead her to an imminent death. She didn't want to become a soldier. She didn't want Levi to go. She just wanted him to stay home, to forget whatever had swayed him into this horrible decision. She didn't know how to express how terrified she was of losing him, and she didn't think it would matter if she did know. Levi was determined.
"You can ask me to let you go," Mikasa said, her voice sounding dead inside her throat. "But you can't expect me to be happy about it."
Levi's expression softened ever so slightly, his brow wrinkling as he gazed at her. He sat down on the couch beside her, folding his hands in his lap. They sat shoulder to shoulder, staring ahead of them. Mikasa didn't want him to yell at her anymore. She wanted him to muss her hair, to hold her shoulders and bring her to his chest, and tell her that he was sorry.
She just wanted him to say it. Because then, maybe, it would mean that he cared. That he didn't actually want to leave.
But he never apologized. He never breathed a word of regret. He never said he would miss her, or that he wished he could stay.
The day he left, however, he did rest his chin against her hair. That had stunned her a little.
"Don't get into trouble," Levi murmured against her hair. "Promise me, Mikasa."
"I promise." She knew that it was a lie. "You said you'd write?"
"Yeah." He held her hand as he pulled his chin from her hair. He grimaced a little. "I'll try. But…"
"It's okay," Mikasa lied once more. She shook her head. "Just make sure to… to tell me you're alive."
"That," Levi said, "is something I can do."
Mikasa smiled a little as she bowed her head. She held his hand for a little longer, and she sighed. Letting him go was as hard as she thought it would be. "Survive," she whispered. She looked up at him, desperation creeping into her eyes. "Please."
He held her hands tightly in his, and he gave her a very long stare. Please, she thought helplessly. Please don't take him away from me too. He pulled back, but only to reach into his bag. He retrieved a book, and he held it out to her without hesitation. She stared at it for a moment before grasping it by the corners. It was his book of fairytales. The writing glinted against the midday sun, and she could only stare in wonder.
"Levi," she said, "I thought… this book was important to you."
"It is," Levi said, giving a one-shoulder shrug. "But I might end up losing it if I keep it with me." He eyed her, and withdrew his arms. "You should hold onto it for me for a little while."
"Okay." Mikasa hugged the small book to her chest, resting her chin against the top of it. "I'll give it back to you when you come home."
"Good plan."
They stood for a few moments, the sun caressing their cheeks as it glimmered relentlessly. Levi's horse nosed his hand, and Mikasa watched as he absently began to stroke the beast's head. He was watching Mikasa with a long, sad look that he never left his face. He might have been assessing his decision to join the military. He might be feeling regretful.
"Take care of yourself," Levi said suddenly. He said it sharply, his brow furrowing a little as he gazed at her.
"Okay."
"And don't give Schatz any bullshit." Levi's eyes narrowed a little, and Mikasa stared up at him impassively. Was he serious? "Don't be me, okay? It's pretty damn nice of her to take you in like this."
Mikasa didn't answer. Mostly because the first words to graze her tongue were, "Well if you weren't leaving, then she'd have no reason to take me in!" But of course, she said nothing. She merely stared up at Levi, her lips pressing thinly together. The sun trickled down her cheek, burning her skin and glistening against the corner of her lips. It was bursting with light, blinding and hot and fading fast.
Levi's thumb pressed against her cheek, callused and cold, and she closed her eyes as he smeared stardust across her sun-kissed cheek.
"Do you hate me?" Levi asked quietly.
Mikasa couldn't answer this time. She couldn't open her eyes. She couldn't breathe.
"I never promised," Levi whispered, "to take care of you."
"No." Mikasa's voice was clipped and cold. It hurt her throat to talk. "You didn't."
"So…" His thumb brushed against the liquid sunlight, and it glimmered against his skin. "Do you hate me for leaving you?"
She took a deep breath, and it tasted like fire creeping across her tongue.
"No, Levi," she said softly. "I don't hate you."
He tilted his head to the side, and Mikasa thought she saw the ghost of a smile twitching against the corners of his lips. He let his hand fall back to his side, and there were a few moments of them simply watching each other. There was a prayer on her lips. A plea to no one. There was sunshine glinting inside her eyes as he touched her hair.
"Bye, Mikasa," he said. He looked sad and soft and broken.
She took his hand, which rested on her head, and she gripped it tightly. "Goodbye, Levi," she murmured.
It took five more minutes for him to climb onto his horse. He did not turn, or wave back to her, or even acknowledge her presence beyond that point. And she was left to watch his back as it faded amongst pooling yellow sunlight, and glossed over buildings. She held the fairy tales to her chest, and she kissed them with sunburned lips as fiery tears came flooding against her cheeks, splashing to her mouth.
Greta Schatz left her alone until minutes and minutes and minutes ticked by, and there was nothing left to stare at but an empty road. The woman stood behind her, never touching her and never speaking. Mikasa thought, This is the end of the world all over again. And she stood, helpless to nature as she was left behind and lost amongst the bleeding sunshine.
"Mikasa," Schatz said softly. "We should go now."
Mikasa bit back a slew of bitter words that hung heavily inside her mouth. She didn't want to go with Schatz. She didn't want to leave, knowing that she would not be going home. That Levi was not coming home. It sunk in heavily that he might never come home again. That he might die fighting Titans. It was a horrible truth, and she accepted it with a hard gaze and white knuckles.
She grasped Levi's book, and turned away from the street, which she had flooded with sunlight.
Levi had left her in the care of Greta Schatz. And because of that, she had to move out of Levi's small home, and into the even smaller apartment above Schatz's seedy bar. There were two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a small lounging area. Mikasa stood heavily, her body feeling weighed down by the sudden loss.
"Look, it ain't much." Schatz scratched her pinched nose, and shrugged. "Sorry, hun."
"It's fine." Mikasa didn't want to speak to this woman at all. She didn't want to look at her either. She merely stared at her suitcase in the woman's grasp, and swallowed a swear. Levi had wanted her to be good. She had to be good… right?
"This is your room," Schatz said, leading Mikasa into a small bedroom. It was even smaller than the one she'd been sleeping in before, with nothing but a bed and a small wooden wardrobe. The room had an air of desolation to it. It seemed lonely and dusty, unused and forgotten. Mikasa entered the room and sat down on the bed, folding her hands in her lap as she looked around. She noticed there were gouges on the face of the wooden wardrobe. Scratches marred its worn surface, dents and nicks and lacerations.
"Thank you," Mikasa said in an empty voice.
"Yeah." Schatz pressed her lips together, and glanced away from Mikasa's face awkwardly. She drummed her fingers against the doorframe. "It used to be Levi's."
That caught her attention.
"What?" she asked, turning her head toward the woman. She perked up, and leaned forward eagerly. "Levi lived here?"
Schatz looked a little surprised. "Well, yeah," she said. "Didn't he tell you? He lived with me after the orphanage, uh… closed."
"No," Mikasa said, staring at Schatz with wide eyes. She turned back to the beaten wardrobe, and she twisted her red sleeve around her hand anxiously. "No, he never told me that." She looked down at the bed, which was small and plain and pressed against a wall. If Mikasa squinted, she could see gouges in the wall just above the bed as well. "He said you came from the same orphanage."
"Yep." Schatz gave a lazy shrug. "Nothin' special. We didn't even talk that much when we were there together. He was like, six or something when I got a job and moved out on my own."
"So how did he end up here?" Mikasa looked around the little room, and she tried to imagine Levi living in it. A younger Levi. It was very hard to picture, and her brow furrowed in concentration and confusion.
Schatz whistled lowly, and she rocked back and forth in the doorway. "Shit, sweetheart," Schatz said. "I dunno if that's something you wanna hear."
"I do." She tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear, and she stood. "I want to know."
"Well, uh…" Schatz looked down at Mikasa, and seemed to weigh her words carefully. "Well, I ended up being the closest thing he had to kin after the orphanage closed. Yeah…"
"Oh…" Mikasa knew that there was more to the story than that. But then, she didn't trust Schatz like Levi did. "Why did the orphanage close?"
Schatz stared at Mikasa's face, her own freckled features going steely. "Not enough kids," Schatz said. Mikasa couldn't even tell if it was a lie or not. It made her angry, and so she spun away from Schatz, staring at the wardrobe with a degree of disdain. "Well, um… I'm going to get back to work. You'll be okay up here by yourself, right?"
"Yeah." Her voice was blunt and low and cold. She didn't want to speak to Schatz anymore.
"Kay…" Schatz rocked back and forth once more, before giving a little wave. "See you, then, Mikasa."
"Bye, Schatz," Mikasa said phlegmatically.
That caused the woman to pause. When Mikasa looked back at her, she was staring at Mikasa incredulously, with sharp eyes narrowing into a glare.
"Okay, listen up," Schatz said, her voice harsh and firm. "You don't call me Schatz, got it? You call me Greta. Levi calls me Schatz because he used to think it was an insult, or something stupid like that." She stood up straight, towering over Mikasa in a fearful height. "And you're not Levi."
Mikasa's fists clenched. She stared at the woman, exhaling sharply through her nose. She couldn't take it any longer.
"Neither are you," Mikasa said coolly.
Greta stared down at Mikasa as if she had snapped and screamed a thousand swears at her. Her splotchy, freckled face became red with anger.
"One day you'll learn, Mikasa," Greta said sharply, "that that is a good thing."
Mikasa jumped a little when she slammed the door shut. The room was left to its haunted quietude, and Mikasa was left feeling guilty and uncertain. No, she hadn't meant to make Greta angry. Her frustration had gotten the better of her. And Levi had told her to be good.
The knowledge that this had once been Levi's room fueled her curiosity. Levi's bedroom, the room she usually slept in, was not as cold and lifeless as this room was. This room felt abandoned. The floorboards creaked underfoot as she moved, studying the marks on the walls. It looked as though various things had been tacked up, but then ripped down. She had to wonder what Levi had been thinking. What he'd been like.
She moved to the wardrobe. It looked like it had never been new, and it was beaten to the point where the wood was beginning to splinter. Mikasa touched the gashes marring the surface of the wood, testing the depth and the height by sticking her thumb into a gouge. She pulled back, and stared up at the wardrobe in confusion. She was confused, yes. And concerned.
Mikasa pulled the knife Levi had given her out from her boot. She studied the gashes for a minute or so before unsheathing the dagger, and wedging its blade against one of the deep lacerations. Blade and gash connected, and there was a moment of triumph for Mikasa as she uncovered some strange mystery about Levi. And his knife. And his room.
She imagined herself in his place. Standing where she stood, a small boy with a small knife in a small room. Had anger sent him into a frenzy? Had he attacked the wardrobe out of fury, or fear, or had he been practicing his precision? Mikasa could not say. She couldn't put herself in Levi's shoes no matter how hard she imagined. She simply couldn't see him slashing at wood with the knife he had gifted to her.
What were you really fighting, Levi?
Months struggled by. Mikasa still helped out at the bookshop, and she still played with Kaethe and Ada. Stefan had faded from the group, and Mikasa was sure he had joined a gang. She didn't care, so long as he kept away from her and the other children. Especially Ada, who was still the youngest. She warned Stefan the next time they met.
"You can't hang around here," Mikasa told him.
Stefan's chubbiness was melting away, and he was growing into a square jaw. "What do you mean?" he asked, scowling at her. "You can't tell me what to do!"
"What you're doing is dangerous," Mikasa said. "For you, and everyone involved with you. Keep the rest of us out of this."
"I don't get it," Stefan said, sounding genuinely shocked. "I mean, it's not like your papa wasn't part of any gangs. I mean, everyone knows that he was a criminal. And you killed someone, Mikasa!"
Mikasa went rigid at the mention of the murder she'd committed. "The difference," she said icily, "between Levi and you, Stefan? It's that Levi was competent. You're an oaf. You couldn't win a fight if you tried."
His eyes snapped wide with fury. "Are you challenging me?" he barked, standing up straighter. He easily towered over Mikasa, but she found him to be more amusing than intimidating.
"No." Mikasa tilted her head up, raising her chin high. "That would mean I actually see you as a threat. I don't."
The rage was palpable. She watched as he took a swing at her, and she dodged it with a great amount of ease, her own balled fist smashing into his ribs and send him flying out of the alley they'd been talking in, and into the street. She watched him tumble and flip over himself, blood smeared against his lips as he clutched his chest in pain.
Mikasa stepped out into the road, ignoring the stares the other children gave her. She stood over Stefan with a bland expression, her eyes hollow as she gazed at him.
"Hey," she said, "Stefan? Fuck you."
He spat blood at her feet.
"You're a heartless bitch, Mikasa," he snarled. "And you're gonna pay for that."
"I might be a bitch," Mikasa said, standing with a strange sense of confidence. You're not Levi. Greta's voice echoed in her head. And it was promptly ignored. "But you're the one who's going to regret this, Stefan. Not me."
She spun away from him, her dark hair gathering at her shoulders as she brushed past the other children and made her way down the road. She had no time or energy to worry about scum like Stefan. All of her concern rested on Levi. All of her energy went into keeping herself busy enough to not think about him. She didn't want to be consumed by her fear of what could be.
"Mikasa," Greta said one day when Mikasa had walked into the tavern. She'd been at the bookshop, and she only reappeared now because Miss Lotte had heard her stomach growling. Mikasa hopped up onto a barstool beside an elder man, swerving from side to side pensively. She decided to ignore Greta, and continue to spin the stool until the woman slapped something down in front of her. It was an envelope.
Mikasa stared at it for a moment, squinting at the lettering beneath Greta's hand.
"If you actually listened," Greta said briskly, not moving her palm from the envelope, "then maybe you'd have bothered to look at the mail this morning."
Mikasa was stunned. "This is for me?" she asked faintly. Then she jumped, grasping the corners of the envelope. "You didn't tell me that."
"Yeah, I did." Greta scowled, and lifted her hand. Mikasa grabbed the letter, and stared at the thick, illegibly scratchy handwriting that could only be Levi's. She noticed how he curled the M of her name, and left the rest of his letters blocky and thick, scribbled across the page hopelessly. She stared at the envelope until Greta snapped her fingers in front of Mikasa's face. "Stop gawking. It's Levi, not the damn king."
Mikasa looked up at her, and she frowned. She pressed the envelope to her chest, and jumped off the stool, spinning away from Greta. She doesn't have to know what's in the letter, Mikasa thought. It's for me, not her.
"Oi!" Greta called after her. "Mikasa, c'mon, don't be such a brat!"
Mikasa fled up the stairs, ignoring the looks she got from the customers. She had bit back something snide at Greta, but only because she really just wanted to read her letter in peace. She didn't want Greta giving her shit later about being rude and unapproachable. Well, Greta, Mikasa thought grumpily, maybe I just don't want to talk to you.
She opened the envelope carefully, sliding the letter out onto her lap as she sat down on her bed. She smoothed it out against her knee, and squinted through Levi's near incomprehensible writing. Mikasa knew her writing wasn't immaculate by any means, but she had always expected Levi's hand to be steady and clear. Broad cursive strokes, perfect and evenly spaced. Mikasa noticed how heavy his letters were, and how squished together the words seemed to be. Letters blurred together, ink bleeding.
After reading the letter a few times, she sat on her bed and stared at the beaten wardrobe across from her.
She reread the letter again. She soaked in every word, and smiled to herself. He'd written. It was short, informal, and awkward, but he had done it. It was all she could ask for. And it made her so inexplicably happy… and so inexplicably sad. But she had no idea how to convey these emotions into words. So instead, she read over Levi's letter again and again until the ink stained her eyes.
Mikasa,
I told you I was going to write. So I'm writing. Happy? I'm fine. Don't bother to ask in your reply, because I'll be fine the next time I write too. Things are fine. Be good.
Levi
She couldn't blame him for writing such a short letter. Her own reply was just as short, and just as awkward and clipped. She simply couldn't write down her feelings. How could she explain to Levi with ink and paper how hollow she felt? How could she explain how desperately sad she was, how much she missed him? How could she beg him to come home, when she was well aware that it was impossible?
Mikasa stuck the letter in the book of fairy tales, and she lay down on her bed with her hair flaring out around her head, tickling her cheeks. She hugged the book to her chest, staring at the ceiling as she thought about what she wanted to tell Levi. There were so many things, and so little, and she couldn't grasp the words. Levi, she thought, Schatz told me to call her Greta. She tells me I'm just like you all the time. A few weeks ago I got into a fight with Stefan. Remember him? He was my friend, but I cast him out because he joined a gang. Is that wrong? I trusted you, knowing what you did for work. Levi, come home, please, I can't stand it here. Please come home.
None of that made it on paper.
The winter came and went, leaving Mikasa with another year on her shoulders. Levi continued to write her on a semi-regular basis. In her last letter, Mikasa had asked if Levi had made any friends in training. His next letter went like this:
Mikasa,
I wouldn't use the word friend. But I've gained an ally or two, which is more than I could ask for, I guess. If you've gotten sick again, tell me. Happy Birthday, by the way. Sorry about the present.
Levi
Inside the envelope was a piece of cloth. Mikasa tugged it out, noting that it was a folded white square. She unfolded it carefully, treating it as delicately as she would a dead leaf. She stared at the white cloth for a long time. It was very small, and it looked as though it had been an unused handkerchief before someone had attacked at it with a needle and thread. The embroidery was makeshift and awkward, uneven stitches running rampant across the white square.
And it was inexplicably beautiful.
She wore it around her neck. When Greta had asked about it, Mikasa had merely covered her mouth with the folds of the bandana, shrugging her shoulders.
"Levi made it."
Greta had laughed so hard she had knocked over a bottle of whiskey.
"No, no, wait!" Greta gasped, wiping a tear as Mikasa turned away toward the stairwell. "Oh, shit, sweetheart, no, come back. It's really cute."
Mikasa came back with darkened eyes. She held the cloth to her mouth defensively.
"Let me see," Greta said, opening her palm. Mikasa begrudgingly handed it over, staring at her warily as she examined the embroidery. Her pinched nose scrunched with contained laughter. "Okay, now that I look at it, I can definitely confirm it to be Levi's handiwork."
Mikasa snatched it back furiously. She clutched it tightly in her fists, and she stared at it for a minute. "I think it's lovely," Mikasa informed Greta.
Greta snorted, and turned away from Mikasa to tend to a customer. "Yeah, okay, hun."
Mikasa gritted her teeth in frustration. "Bitch," Mikasa hissed, whirling away.
Greta had heard her.
"What did you just call me?" she called back, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. Mikasa's cheeks stung with embarrassment, and she fled upstairs in a hurry.
As the afternoons grew hotter, Mikasa was forced to retire the faithful red dress Levi had given her. The dress hem fluttered above her knees, and its sleeves were caught at her elbows. Letting it go had been hard, but she had eventually accepted the cotton shirt and long black skirt that Greta had forced into her arms one evening. Mikasa had also been given a lovely little talk that evening about birds and bees. And Mikasa's only thought afterward was, Oh, so that's where babies come from…
One sweltering summer afternoon had Mikasa sprawled across the floor of Miss Lotte's bookshop, her hair and skirt splayed around her in inky dark pools. She was swimming in blackness and dust, with a book of fairy tales resting against her breast and her eyes closed against the world. Mikasa had long since finished her shift at the store, but she had no desire to return to the tavern. Living with Greta wasn't so bad anymore, but Mikasa still preferred to keep herself busy. At least in the bookstore she could never be bored.
"Mikasa," Miss Lotte said, stepping over her sprawled body as she reached for a shelf. "If you're going to sleep, sleep in the back."
"Mm…" Mikasa opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling sadly. Her skirt was sticking to the back of her thighs. She had been thinking about Levi again, and wondering how training was treating him. She wondered, as she tended to, why he had joined the military in the first place. Hey, Levi, she thought, sitting up and stretching her arms above her head. Sunset burnt shadowy holes into the wooden floor around her, and across the front of the store yellow light danced with fiery vigor against dust and yellowed pages. Trust can only go so far. And I can't trust you if you keep the truth from me.
Mikasa touched the ribbon in her hair, her fingers tickling against the red bow. She trusted Levi with all her heart and soul, but she couldn't fathom why he had not told her this one thing. This one excruciatingly important detail. Couldn't he see how much she needed to know?
Mikasa jumped to her feet, her book dropping to the floor as the sound of glass shattering ricocheted across the room. A mighty crash of solid brick smashing into wood awoke her from her daze, and she grasped Miss Lotte's arms as the woman nearly stumbled to her knees in absolute shock. She held the woman for a moment, staring into her steely eyes worriedly.
"Miss Lotte?" Mikasa asked gently. She followed the woman's gaze to the brick lying on the wooden floor, pressing against a layer of shattered glass. Mikasa's eyes narrowed. "Stay here, Miss Lotte. I can handle this."
She pushed away from the woman, rushing out into the open. The window had a gaping hole in it, jagged teeth of glass glinting against the setting sun. Mikasa's body tensed up in rage. Through the glare of sunlight that breathed into the musty store, she could see the hazy silhouettes of running figures across the street. Mikasa stepped across the floor, bits of glass crunching softly under her boots. She reached up, hefting herself onto the windowsill and swinging her body so it expertly maneuvered through the chasm of broken glass.
Her boots slammed against the road, and she tossed her hair behind her shoulder. She squinted into the sunlight, her body curling in apprehension as she watched the figures bolt down the road. She took a deep breath, and let herself go running. She had already rolled her sleeves up above her elbows, white cotton crinkling against her skin as she streaked against the wind, a black and white blur in a sea of yellow and orange and red burnt streets.
She jumped up, catching a pipe and scaling up onto a roof. The shingles shuddered as she leapt across the slanting surface, rage fueling her movements. She flung herself from rooftop to rooftop, until she had sped for ahead of the black silhouettes she'd been pursuing. She stood up on the roof, her body defying the slanting gravity, and wind kissed her cheeks, toying with the fabric of her skirt and the strands of her hair.
"Hey," Mikasa called, her fingers balling into fists as the gang of teenagers passed. They all froze to look up at her, skidding to a stop. She recognized Stefan's face in the half-dozen. "What are you assholes running from?"
She watched them exchange looks. A boy with greasy hair stepped up, raising his head high.
"Who the fuck are you?" he bellowed up at her.
"That's Mikasa," Stefan whispered, watching Mikasa warily.
"Oooh," the gang crooned. Mikasa's face remained steely, but she was growing angrier and angrier as the seconds ticked past. "So you're the slut who punched Steffie here!"
Mikasa jumped down from the rooftop, landing easily on her feet. Her body was rigid in rage and disgust. "Did you throw the brick into Miss Lotte's store?" Mikasa asked, her voice low and empty. The boy towered over her, and was likely well into his teen years. He had an ugly face, and it wasn't one she would remember long after she made it bloody.
"So what if I did?" The boy pulled out a little carton of cigarettes, and shoved one between his teeth. He struck a match against the wall just behind Mikasa, leaning in far too close for comfort. She resisted the urge to deck him there. After he lit the cigarette, he sucked against the smoldering red paper until it withered ever so slightly. Mikasa stared up at him as he plucked the cigarette from his lips, and released a great plume of smoke into her face. She felt it sting inside her mouth, burning her eyes and nostrils. "What'cha gonna do, sweetheart? Think you can take me?"
He gave a raspy laugh that bounced against smoke and spilling red sunset.
Mikasa twisted his wrist first, forcing the cigarette to drop to the ground before her fist collided with his nose. She listened to it crunch, and felt the immediate stream of blood burst against her knuckles. She whirled around as another boy leapt at her, and she knocked him off his feet, kicking him in the groin and spinning once again to leap at Stefan.
Her rage was all at Stefan.
"M-Mikasa!" Stefan shrieked in pain as her fist connected with his jaw, and then his stomach. And then her fingernails raked his neck. She froze. I could kill him, she thought numbly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I could stab him in the throat. "S-stop, I'm sorr—!"
Mikasa gave a little shout of shock as she was yanked off the boy by either arm, and dragged away. Two MPs forced the story out of them, and though they ended up siding with Mikasa in the long run, she was the one they dragged away from the scene.
"You shouldn't be getting into fights like that, girl," a man said stiffly. His woman companion had yet to speak as she held Mikasa tightly by the bicep. They were escorting her to the tavern. "It's dangerous."
"Yeah," Mikasa said in a dead voice. "For them."
"You're awfully cocky," said the male MP. He studied her face, but she merely stared ahead of her and said nothing. Mikasa trudged forward, her boots scuffing against the road. It was twilight now, and the sky had turned from a blazing red to an icy white. Milk had spilt into shadow, and clouds of dust were gathering across a heavy horizon.
"They deserved it," Mikasa decided aloud.
"Well next time," the man said, "use your words, not your fists."
You're a fucking moron, Mikasa thought. But she sad nothing. She merely stared ahead of her, and wondered what Levi would have done.
Who was she kidding? He'd do the same fucking thing she did. Except he wouldn't have gotten caught.
Greta's face had not even been remotely shocked. The tavern was moderately full, and Mikasa could see the sketchy imagery of two MPs pulling her in by the arms. She stared into Greta's alert blue eyes, and she lifted her head. She had nothing to be ashamed of. So she watched as the woman rounded the bar and marched up to the MPs, her eyes flashing.
"What's going on here?" Greta asked. She feigned ignorance, looking the part of a shocked mother. Mikasa might have laughed. The many faces of Greta Schatz. It was so hard to tell which one was the real one. "Mikasa, look at you! Is that blood?"
"Don't worry, ma'am," the male MP said sweetly. "It's not hers."
Greta gave him a long, hard look. "Yes," she said icily. "Because that makes me feel so much better."
The male MP looked a little flustered. Mikasa smiled against her neckerchief, glancing up at the man and containing her amusement. The female MP spoke for the first time.
"Ma'am, your daughter was fighting in the streets," the woman said briskly. "Please discipline her so these insurrections may not happen in the future."
"Fighting?" Greta looked down at Mikasa, and she blinked wildly. "You were fighting?"
"They deserved it," Mikasa said firmly.
"I'm sure," Greta hissed. She grabbed Mikasa by the wrist and yanked her away from the two MPs, dragging her back to the bar. "You're just like Levi was when he was your age."
Mikasa stared at her arm in the woman's grasp. She grimaced and stopped listening as Greta put on a show for the MPs and chewed Mikasa out. She focused on the condensation of a glass on the bar, and she scratched at the dried blood on her knuckles. It flaked away easily, and she was left to stare and ignore Greta a little more.
"Okay," the male MP said. "Well, ma'am, if you have it under control—"
"Oh," Greta said, her face flushed from shouting so much. "I do!"
"— Then we're gonna head out." The man nodded to Mikasa. "Keep out of fights, kiddo."
Mikasa flipped her middle finger at the man's back as he left. Greta grabbed her wrist again and shoved her toward the stairs. "You're just as stupid and reckless as he was," Greta hissed, smacking her back. "Think before you act, Mikasa!"
"I said they deserved it," Mikasa said quietly. "They broke the window of the bookshop, Greta. They deserved it."
"Mikasa…" Greta sighed, and she shook her head. "No. Just go."
Mikasa glowered at the woman's face, and she marched up the steps without looking back. She immediately went to the nearest window and wedged it open, lifting her body through it and hefting herself onto the rafters of the roof. Her skirt pooled around her as she dragged herself against the shingles of the rooftop, and perched herself against the night. She hugged her knees to her chest, and peered up at the sky. Stars were dotting the thick, inky night, and on the horizon a blot of pale blue was still visible, dying light in the midst of a blackened sky.
She sat there, letting the breeze toy with her loose hair. She leaned into the wind, her head falling back in order to get a better look at the stars. Is Levi looking at the stars right now? she wondered. Truthfully, she had no idea. She liked the thought of it. The image of him sitting alone on a roof, just like her. At the very least they could be watching the same sky.
"Levi," Mikasa said quietly. She tried to imagine him beside her, but it only made her feel sad. She rubbed at the blood caked to her knuckles and fingers, and she pressed her lips together thinly. "I'm going to join the Survey Corps too."
Levi said nothing in response. She closed her eyes and rested her chin against her knees. She thought about the brutality of the world, and how it seemed that Mikasa had given everything to the earth below the shadowy shingles. She had given the dirt her tears, and her blood, and the blood of others, and she watched as it soaked it all up hungrily. And it would keep taking. The world was devouring her.
There was nothing she could do to prevent this. It was merely an inevitable part of her meaningless existence.
Hey, Levi, she thought, pulling her embroidered kerchief up above her nose. What did this world take from you?
She stared into the fluttering darkness around her. The stars above her were blinking and glowing. She thought about her fate. The fate she had been flung into without anyone's inquiry about how she felt. Do you want to live, Mikasa? Do you want to keep living life in this world of cruelty and loveliness?
If so, stay where you are.
Never leave this roof.
The blood on her knuckles was flaking away. The soft strands of her hair were tickling her cheeks.
She slid down the face of the roof, and swung herself through her open window. The next morning she enrolled her name in the listing of trainees for the next year. She would be twelve, and thus she would be admitted without a hitch. The military needed as many men as they could get. She wondered if it would be hard. There was a strange prickling feeling inside of her that wouldn't leave her alone, and she continued to wonder and contemplate and worry.
What would Levi say when he found out? She was certain he wouldn't like it. She knew he wouldn't like it. And that was why she told no one, not even Greta. Mikasa put off telling the world about her decision, and she felt that she would continue to do so until she was flung into the military feet first. No one would miss her, would they? She was just a faceless child in a stew of orphans. No one would even notice her absence, except maybe Greta Schatz, Miss Lotte, and a few other children.
But they would forget her fast.
One day she passed by Stefan again. He was chatting with Kaethe, and immediately froze up at the sight of her. Kaethe beamed at Mikasa and waved her eagerly over, and Stefan grabbed her arm and hissed something in her ear. Mikasa hid a smirk behind her kerchief, and she wandered to Kaethe's side. The girl had decided to grow out her hair a little, and she now wore it over her shoulder in a limp little brown ponytail. Her freckles were fading, and her eyes were still the color of faded green leaves.
"Hey, Mikasa," she chirped.
"Hi, Kaethe." Mikasa turned to Stefan, her eyes boring into his. She dared him to challenge her again. "Stefan."
"Hi…" Stefan shifted awkwardly. "Um… Mikasa, look… about that brick…"
She stared at him. There was a soft breeze as the wind began to toy with her dark hair, and she tucked it behind her ear. "Yes," Mikasa said, her voice cold and clipped. "About the brick."
"Look, I'm really sorry," Stefan said, looking at her desperately. "It was stupid. And mean. I'm really, really sorry."
Mikasa studied his face. His eyes were glowing earnestly, and he looked at her with a strange beseeching desperation. She rested her back against a rail behind her, and she shrugged. "Fine," she said.
Stefan looked noticeably relieved, and he slumped a little. He pulled out a carton of cigarettes, and stuck one between his lips. He offered the box out to Mikasa and Kaethe, and Kaethe took one eagerly. Mikasa, however, studied the box warily.
"Where did you get those?" Mikasa asked, perfectly aware that Stefan wasn't exactly well off.
Stefan blinked, and he smiled sheepishly. "Oh, uh," he said, scratching his cheek. "I picked it off a MP."
Mikasa mulled over his words for a moment. She plucked a cigarette from the carton, and held it between her fingers as Stefan struck a match against the cement foundation of the rail behind Mikasa, and lit his cigarette as well as Kaethe's. Mikasa slipped the rolled up paper between her teeth, and watched Stefan cautiously as he held the flame up to the tip of the cigarette. She could feel the heat radiating close to her nose, and she waited for the fire to take.
"Take a suck," Stefan advised. "It lights easier if you do."
Mikasa's eyes narrowed a little, but she did inhale against the cigarette. Smoke filled her mouth, rolling into her lungs in a stinging cloud of warmth. It scratched at the inside of her throat, tearing through her chest in a great mass of fiery residue. She wrinkled her nose, and resisted the urge to cough.
Stefan looked a little smug at the way she grimaced, so she pulled the cigarette from her lips and blew out the smoke into his face. He reacted with a backpedal, and waved the smoke away fast. Kaethe laughed all the while, her cigarette bobbing at the corner of her lips.
"So are you still hanging around that greasy bastard?" Mikasa asked after they had all calmed down. They sat against the cement foundation of the rail, taking drags on their cigarettes and watching the passersby idly.
"Um…" Stefan shifted nervously beside her. "Yeah."
"Tell him to go fuck himself." Mikasa blew smoke into the wind, and decided she didn't like smoking. It made her feel a little like she was suffocating… but there was something undeniably calming about it.
"You know," Stefan said, "he's not so bad—"
"I don't care." The paper felt strange against her lips as she spoke. "He's gross. You shouldn't get involved with gangs."
"Don't get all high and righteous on me, Mikasa," Stefan said quietly. "Like I said before. Your papa's been in gangs before."
"And like I told you," Mikasa said, extinguishing her cigarette against the cement beside her. "Levi actually knew what he was doing. You're just a damn oaf."
"You're kinda mean, Mikasa," Kaethe laughed. "I mean, Steffie's not stupid."
"No," Mikasa said, "he's incredibly stupid."
"I'm right here," Stefan said weakly.
"You dragged me into your bullshit," Mikasa said. "Because you are an idiot, and you didn't listen to me." She discarded the remains of her cigarette into the street. "You have no idea what the underground of this place is like." She turned to face him, and she gritted her teeth. "I think you're stupid because you're putting everyone you care about in danger."
His eyes were wide. "But, your papa—"
"Levi is not my father," Mikasa said sharply. "So I can't blame him for anything that happened to me while I was in his care. He did as much as he could for me, but he couldn't change his life to guarantee my safety. You're being stupid and reckless for endangering your family and friends. Accept it."
Stefan said nothing. His cigarette was burning low, and he stared at Mikasa with wide eyes. She wondered if her words would make a difference. She pushed herself off the rail, and she tugged at her kerchief. The sky was twinkling with reddening light, and she turned her head upward. The clouds were fat and gray, tumbling above her like monsters devouring the sun. She grimaced at the thought.
"I'm joining the military," she told them.
Their silence stung. She had told no one about this, and so she was apprehensive. She didn't know how people would react. Would they be angry? Impassive? Would anyone care at all?
"Wait," Kaethe squeaked. "What?"
"You aren't serious," Stefan said, "are you, Mikasa?"
She turned to face them. Stefan's eyes grew wider, and Kaethe breathed, "Oh, she's serious…"
"I thought you didn't like the military!" Stefan gasped.
"I don't like MPs," Mikasa said vacantly.
"Well, what branch are you gonna join?" Kaethe asked, jumping to her feet. "I always figured everyone going into the military just wants to be an MP, y'know?"
"You're wrong." Mikasa's arms felt cold. A chill was breathing through the street, wind running through her hair like spindly fingers, twisting through black strands. "I'm joining the Survey Corps."
That seemed to stun them. They exchanged a glance, and then Stefan jumped up as well. "Why would you wanna join them?" Stefan asked, his eyes going even wider. "Aren't they all like, crazy and stuff?"
"Yeah," Kaethe agreed. "I heard anyone who joins the Survey Corps is doomed. They all die real fast. My Mama says it's a wonder they even have troops."
Mikasa stared at them. And honestly, she agreed with them. The Survey Corps would be the end of her. She was aware that this was a likelihood. No. It was inevitable. But even so… it was the fate she had chosen. And she was going to stick to that choice.
"Maybe," Mikasa said quietly. "Maybe I'm dooming myself." She turned away from them, and she began to walked slowly down the road.
"What?" Kaethe gasped, sounding horrified. "Then why the hell are you joining? Mikasa!"
Because, Mikasa thought sullenly, I can't thank him.
These Mikasa chapters are probably the most boring part of the story. But that's just my opinion. There can easily be more boring parts somewhere, and I just didn't notice because, you know. I wrote it.