He is young when learning the basics, with darts and archery, and sometimes even ninja stars. As he grows older, he moves onto the big boys.
Knives.
Now, at the circus he joined, Levi stands several feet in front of an interesting target.
A woman, whom he is not familiar with, is strapped to the Wheel Of Death—a deadly rotating target for whomever is present on it.
He takes great notice in what little attire she was instructed to adorn, no doubt sexualizing the act they are about to do.
She lacks any emotion at all, which is laughable as she is risking her life for entertainment.
The crowd is loud from every direction, no doubt impatient for the show to start.
Levi bends a little, sliding his foot back to position himself better.
He grips the knife in his hand backwards, aiming it at the now moving target. He thinks of how uncomfortable she must be, with all the blood rushing to her head.
Levi regains his focus, flicking his wrist abruptly. The dagger flies, stabbing the painted wood below the target girl's mid thighs.
She flinches, her calm facade breaching just a tad before she toughens up again.
The narrowed look she gives him is daring, as if he did nothing to faze her.
Levi matches her stare while reaching for his belt, pulling out not one, but three more knives. He admires them, taking in the polished, sharpened edges of the blades.
He must admit that they are nothing compared to her cutting stare, and without further adieu, he flings them.
One by one, they land on the chipped oak, inches away from her stiffening body.
There is a dagger above her head. The other two are wedged just beside her neck, caging her in.
The crowd is loving it.
Levi decides to finish up, throwing the rest of his blades alongside her taut form.
The next performers, trapeze artists, are already setting up. The Wheel Of Death is pushed away by an assistant, backstage, where all the other circus people are getting ready.
Levi follows them.
—
Mikasa is more than eager to get out of the metal cuffs holding her down on the human sized target. The daggers must be removed first, and though she does not show it, she is growing restless.
The man from before comes into view, stretching his arms over his head. He almost catches her eyes on him, but Mikasa diverts them elsewhere. Even so, out of the corner of her eyes, she can see him coming their way.
She begins to squirm. The girl assisting her has to tell her to hold still.
"Don't worry, Miss. Ackerman. We'll get you out of here in no time," she assures her.
Mikasa cannot agree any less, "I can…"
"So you're the newest member," an impassive voice drawls out.
She gives all her attention to a lean looking man in front of her.
"My name is Levi," he introduces himself.
"Mikasa," she says, not sure where to look.
He is fun to look at. Aside from his bored looking face, he has a well defined body.
Levi nods at the assistant. "I can take it from here," he tells her.
The girl stands up. "Thanks, Levi."
She moves away from Mikasa, oblivious to the astonished look the oriental is giving her and slinks away.
Levi smirks inwardly. "Tch, I'm not going to stab you."
"You'd better not," she retorts.
He steps closer to her until is his body heat is apparent her skin. His eyes look over her stiffening body, admiring the forming goosebumps on her pale skin.
He hums, dismissing her prior warning and reaches for the handle of the knife above her head to pull it out.
Levi sets it aside, doing the same for the other until the target no longer processes them.
He then kneels, his fingers grazing her ankles as he unlocks the cuffs surrounding them. Standing up, he touches her wrist, and moves on to the lock over it.
Mikasa's breath catches in her throat when his chest touches her breasts. She feels disappointed when her other wrist is freed from its restriction.
"Better?" He asks, and she finds herself nodding her head.
"Better," she repeating, glancing at his cupid bow lips.
Levi nods, stepping back to attend to other things when he feels at tug on his shirt. He turns to woman, who bows her head at him.
"Thank you, Levi…For helping me, but also for not hurting me on stage," she voices.
"Don't fret over it," he soothes her, "I could tell you didn't trust me, but you toughened up because you had no choice but to do so. That takes guts."
He places a hand on the crown of her head, ruffling the soft locks lightly, and the appreciative smile she gives him is enough to make him smile back, for real.
