Silver Ring

Annie poked along the edges of the small fire following their latest rendezvous. She was alone again, and grateful for it, too. She wouldn't have to listen to Reiner about some stupid story involving Eren and Jean. Another pointless messhall brawl. Embers and a lick of grey smoke were all that left. It crackled, and she wondered how long it'd been since she'd last seen her father. Three years. Three years already with nothing to show for it.

They still weren't any closer to finding the Coordinate.

The only information worth mentioning to them were within the past several weeks when she caught two men from the Inner Walls—the Interior as it was known to those here—loitering around the camp late into the night. Nosing around, searching like they were trying to find something・ or someone.

She frowned.

Krista's and Achi's attempted kidnapping months prior… This something or someone those two men were after revolved around Krista. The only question was why. For what purpose was she being watched? Could she… possibly be… the Coordinate? No, she concluded. The girl was important, but, she wasn't like them. No, that possibility fell onto Eren, ever since the day she they'd first gone over the fundamentals of the Vertical Maneuvering Gear and its uses. But, whatever the reason, the camp had been on high alert ever since. It was putting a hampering on her activities. Not to mention, she wasn't certain when or how long it'd been going on, but, Mina was more aware of her comings and goings than she led her to believe. And what she hadn't told those two, regarding the man who'd nearly caught her when she finally managed to sneak into the Industrial City after what she'd discovered. A dangerous man, not like the others. A killer. All told, it was getting more and more risky to operate, and she had to think of something to keep herself busy until things died down. Otherwise, the likelihood of her being caught again—even accidentally—would quickly render their mission a failure.

And if she didn't complete her mission, then her promise would never be realized.

Thus, after a day of training, Annie kept herself busy peeling the skins from potatoes behind the kitchen. Dinner was fast approaching, and slicing what that idiot loved so much and what she so despised with the small knife in her hand, all she could think about was that day of their first real usage of those flexible anti-Titan blades in that rainy forest, pretending that these large targets made of wood were the Titans, and the sacks of floor atop them, the napes of their necks.

Her own itched. Her hand trembled. She steadied the knife and continued.

Marco had been her partner. There wasn't much to say about, except his mind for strategy and group cooperation was on par with Marcel's. More-so than that idiot's, who earlier in the week bet all his dinner on her during she and Mikasa's fight where nobody had won and everyone who placed one had it taken away by Shadis. Her anger got the better of her, beating him into the ground enough times to break a few bones after he'd mouthed off something equally as stupid as what Fritz might say even though she was doing so well lately in avoiding him.

Learn to speak to girls properly, she had said. It was something she told Fritz—and the brothers—countless times, but, surprisingly, the boy everyone nicknamed 'the suicidal bastard' was the only one so far who heeded her advice. Though, breaking his bones was probably been a factor in that.

She recalled the day she suspected him.

The Vertical Maneuvering Gear. Great physical strength was required to be able to use them, especially in the lower half of the body, where the majority of the equipment was situated, which consisted of a harness that went around the shoulders, chest, abdominals, down to feet, and met at the waist, where the wire propelled grappling hooks perfect for latching onto various surfaces resided inside a box above the gas canisters that fueled them.

The device itself was taxing to operate, and thus, that morning they had been out here to further condition themselves for its more complexities with a simple, and very intensive, method physical training: rock climbing.

Sweat dripping down her forehead, her brow, her cheeks—everywhere—especially humid, the rocks jagged and loose the higher one climbed and Eren, the fool, in an attempt outpace Jean, pierced a hand on one of them leaving pained, blood smeared footholds. Then, it happened. Missing one of firmer footholds, the moment his bloody hand grasped the next rock, it crumbled and he slide, miraculously managing to catch himself, but, in the moment, instead of letting him fall, she'd grasped his forearm, using what strength she dared to muster to pull him up just a bit further. That was when she saw it: the wound to his hand had already healed itself.

Thinking about it now, there had been no exhaustion of steam from either the wound or his blood, so how? Or maybe she'd just been suffering from the heat. Maybe he didn't hold the power at all.

And it was around her seventh or eighth potato that someone came into the messhall kitchen. The door opened abruptly, yet silent. Hearing them clearly above the chatting of trainees, chirping of birds, and buzzing of insects outside, whoever it was made supple, feline movements toward her. Like a cat preparing to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. She was no mouse. Putting her latest peeled potato in the basket at her side, Annie turned with knife in hand.

Mikasa stood there, observing her. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Peeling potatoes," she replied. Slightly confused, Annie went through the week's messhall assigned kitchen roster in her head: Connie Springer, Franz Kefka, Ruth Kline, Thomas Wagner, Jean Kirstein, Hannah Diamant, and herself. Mikasa's name hadn't been on the list. No mistake. Unless… she volunteered and the Chief Instructor hadn't informed her? "I'm on cooking duty tonight."

No, Mikasa wasn't the type to do that without Eren or Armin doing it first. The scarf that seemed fused about her neck blew gently in the breeze that came in from the window, as she glanced at the knife. Almost as if she were sizing up an opponent.

Annie lowered the knife to ease the tension that had settled between them. "What do you want?"

Instead of answering, Mikasa went over to the window and closed it. The sound of the outside world faded away, that cool breeze cut off, and the afternoon sunlight shining in dimmed. Shadows obscuring her, Mikasa didn't seem to mind, appearing to not be bothered by the half-darkness now surrounding them.

"I found this,"—she took out something from her uniform's pouch pocket and raised to eye level—"Lying on the training field earlier."

It was a ring. Annie felt her eyes wander down to her finger. Then, she remembered: when she'd told Krista of Achi being awake this morning, the other girl had been staring at the ring because of that habit of hers, and to prevent anyone else from doing the same—and because the habit was becoming annoyingly persistent—she'd put it in her own uniform's breast pouch. Though, the button was missing, and her ring, gone.

"I think you dropped it during our fight," Mikasa said, completing her thought.

"Yes, I must have." Extending her hand, Annie waited for the other girl to give it back.

Instead of that, either, Mikasa flicked it. There was a click, and the tiny blade she'd kept hidden until now popped out. "What's this?" she asked.

"For self-defense," Annie replied.

"Self-defense," Mikasa repeated after a moment. She looked at the blade briefly, then went back to her. "I don't see why you would need this. Especially after today."

What was she getting at? "There are situations that I can't handle with martial arts alone," she answered.

"I don't see how this would be useful in that regard." She cast a glance to the knife in her hand again.

Annie sighed. No semblance of expression or hint of emotion. This girl was hard to read. Different from Ymir, who was equally as difficult, and a far-cry from Mina or Fritz, who were like open books. It was only straight to the point. "Why are you trying to say?"

Mikasa shook her head slowly. Her black hair swayed like silk. "I'm not trying to say anything. Only…"

She waited.

Mikasa's fingers curled around the ring. "I don't want you to be wearing such a dangerous thing when you're around Eren. He might get hurt."

"You can rest assured then." She relaxed, putting the knife down on the table. Of course. Of course it was about Eren. Even so, she ran a clammy palm against her pant leg, wiping away the sweat in time to catch the ring when Mikasa tossed it her way. "It only comes out when it's intentional, like you did just now. That was the way my parents designed it. They're awfully worrisome," she lied. Mikasa didn't reply, and just stared at her, as if trying to find some fault in her words. Tease out some kind discrepancy. "You get it, don't you? Because they were sending their only daughter to an unfamiliar place, they wanted me to have something that would keep me safe. Even if it was useless. For the most part," she added cautiously. She watched the girl, remembering her to be from Shiganshina.

"I wouldn't know," Mikasa said, as if reading from one of their materials in the lecturehall aloud to the instructor. "I have none."

The screams of that day echoed in Annie's head, fading horribly, bloodily, quietly, when she finally spoke again. "Were they killed by the Titans?"

"Not by the Titans."

Annie waited for her to say more, but Mikasa went silent again. It was an eloquent silence that declared she had no interest continuing with the subject. From that alone, it was obvious something dark had happened in the other girl's past. Something other than—perhaps worse than—the Titans, and, in that moment, the late afternoon sun spilling through the window until then turning blacker still, casting both of them in the dark, something told her that Mikasa also wouldn't mind being completely enveloped in it, either.

Then, as if she had overstayed her welcome, Mikasa proceeded to head for the door and opened it. She didn't leave, however. "Hey, Annie," she began to say, turning to look at her. "Why are you here?"

Annie saw that look in her eyes. What lay behind them. Searching for some slight suspicion in the back of her mind. A suspicion that was well-placed, and just as unwelcome. Her own narrowed a little. "I already told you. I'm on cooking duty."

"No. I'm asking why you're here. What's your reason, for joining the trainee corps?" Mikasa's eyes focused on her, like they were peering through her, at the other side of her heart. That black, lonely side that nobody was allowed to see, and that was when Annie realized it: whatever befallen Mikasa in her past, she'd killed before.

She didn't let that awareness show, but her nape twitched reflexively. "I'm here for the same reason as everyone else. I just want to live well in a nice, safe, and pleasant place by eventually joining the Military Police."

Mikasa's deep, clear grey eyes were like a tide, all cheerfulness having been swept away by the current long ago. The eyes that belonged to someone who had ended a human life with her own hands, eerily reminiscent of that man's back in Industrial City. Eyes that the Chief Instructor had looked into on that first day and deemed those with them as "already prepared". There were several among the 104th with those same eyes. Herself, included.

"I get why you'd want to join the Military Police," the other girl said. "But, I feel like it's not because you want to live in a 'nice, safe, and pleasant place'."

The screams came back. "And why not?"

"The others, Jean and the rest, want to get away because they're afraid of the Titans. Or they crave luxury."

She remembered Marco's vow. He had went on enough about it back then. "There was also someone who wanted to serve the King, body and soul."

"You aren't like any of them, I don't think," Mikasa continued. "I think it's because you have to." Then, as quietly as she'd came, she was gone, leaving her to wallow in the dark alone.

Mikasa Ackerman. A girl who performed all training exercises with a nonchalant and calm air, and was constantly breaking the highest results set by the Chief Instructor. However, she didn't have a sense of purpose like Eren in wanting to kill all the Titans, nor did she covet being posted to the Military Police for selfish reasons like Jean or selfless reasons like Marco. It also didn't seem like she had a mission, or even a promise.

No, she had a purpose entirely separate from luxury and a peaceful existence. A purpose that had been born in the dark, and was shrouded by the black scarf she wore. Mikasa was an astoundingly brilliant, yet thoroughly devoted girl. Especially where Eren was concerned. Precisely the kind of person who was the most troublesome to deal with if she ever became an enemy.

She would have to be more cautious around her, too, from here on.

And, for some time after Mikasa left, Annie found herself gazing at the closed door. A pool of light creeping in from the moon outside between her and it, she could no longer hear the trainees' voices or the birds' calls, only the insects' clicking.

A wire shot out from someplace unseen, catching the monster that was about to devour the young girl by the shoulder. Swinging around it, attached to the other end was a person, and a second later, they passed by the monster's neck. Then, the monster fell in a heap. Dead. Then, the person, a soldier, quickly snatched the girl and flew away again, just as more of his kind rushed out to meet the rest of the monsters.

Managing to see one of them up close, she caught sight glimpse of the symbol upon their backs: two thorned red roses over a white shield.

Annie took a breath, putting the ring back on her finger. In the end, taking it off had been a bad idea. She re-opened the window. Feeling the same gentle breeze from before as it brushed against her cheek, she hoped it was a wind blowing from outside the Walls.

Glancing over at the basket of potatoes that still needed to final preparations for dinner, her stomach hurt. She really wasn't looking forward to Fritz's whining about not having anything to eat tonight and rested her hands, tired from all the potato peeling, on the table. They shook. She was cold, and winter was right around the corner.