"Listen."

Her mind's in a haze, a numb pain spreads through her body, a quiet ache she attempts to suppress.

Where is she?

Her eyes are watery, she realizes, but she can't understand why. Her body won't move as she wants it to, instead, it moves on its own accord, leaning forward.

"I need to tell you something."

There's a boy in front of her. Eyes wide, a barrage of emotions swimming in its devastatingly green eyes. Frustration. Fear. Anger. But not towards her. No, because when his eyes do focus on her, she sees the turmoil soften ever so slightly into one of confusion, but also warmth. And, somewhere, a hint of desperation that's been caged, trying its hardest not to reveal itself. What could that mean?

He's crying too.

Why?

"You've always been at my side."

She feels the grass beneath her palm as her body continues to move forward. She notices the drops of blood staining his tanned skin. What happened? Seeing it should alarm her. But it doesn't.

Why?

"You showed me how to live with purpose."

He stays still, watching her, focusing on her and her alone. She doesn't know why the situation feels bleak. Right now, all she sees is him and the tears that roll down his cheeks, dripping down to his chin until a lone drop falls onto the ground. The atmosphere is heavy, yet it isn't suffocating. Despite it, it feels somehow tender, almost liberating to speak.

"Thank you."

What is this?

Where is she?

And...

"And you…"

She looks down, her eyes catching the red fabric around her neck. Her hand rests on it, soft and oddly comforting.

She feels her heart beating, every beat in her chest leaving her bursting with emotions. With pride. With joy. With warmth. Yet it all feels like every word felt like the last.

What is this feeling?

"And you wrapped this scarf around me."

A picture flashes into her mind. A young boy, his face close, a barely-there flush on his cheeks as his eyes bore into hers. Serious, but with gentle concern. The ends of a red scarf in his hands.

It's the scarf around her neck.

It's the boy in front of her.

"Thank you."

What is this?

Who is he?

Her eyes meet his again, and she knows her tears have fallen, feeling the moisture on her skin as it runs down.

She feels herself move even closer to his as he stays still, mouth slightly ajar as a cool breeze moves through the air. But he stands, moves away just as their lips are close to touching.

He looks up at something. The sky perhaps? She can't see anything else here. It is only them. It's only him.

His fists emit steam, her mind reeling at the sight. How? What?

"I'll wrap that scarf around you…"

He turns to look at her, doing his best to quell the tears. His gaze focused, determined.

"As many times as you want."

Her breath hitches as he spoke. Promise laced in seriousness, sincerity dripping in every single word. She knows he means it, and her heart is full.

But why?

"Now and forever, as much as you want!"

Now and forever…

The words ring in her ear even after she wakes.

It rarely ever rains in Paradis. The soft, quiet pitter-patter of raindrops against the window sill is something new, a very rare start to her day. It shouldn't come as a surprise though. She's heard this part of Hizuru has a wet and dry climate. And by the looks of the people from outside the window, they're obviously used to it. Umbrellas of varying colors and styles open and put to use.

She watches from her hotel room as she sips her morning tea. There's a family, a man and a woman with their young child. There's a young woman rushing to work, her heels splashing onto small puddles as she carefully runs. There's a couple, under one umbrella, leisurely walking through.

There's a man looking up at the dark clouds, a hand in his pocket, not in a rush, not moving away. He's simply still, observing the sky. Just as she is observing him. She can't see his face. She can only see his chin and the tip of his nose, the umbrella obscuring him from her view. His stillness, his focus, brings back the dream she just had.

Her eyes drift down to the rim of her cup, a finger tracing it as her thoughts wander. What could that dream mean? Who was that boy? And why did every single emotion that came to pass in that dream feel so painfully real? The gratitude and sincerity of her own words and the brevity and earnestness in his, the emotions well up inside her as she recalls it all. It was brief, but it was hard to forget.

She shakes her head. She must still be jet-lagged. All these thoughts because of a dream. That's all it was. A dream. One she'll eventually forget.

Yes.

She looks out the window again, and the man remains where she saw him, his head still up at the clouds as people come and go. He seems relaxed, unhurried, like the sky never looked as beautiful as it does right now.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he moves his head, turning in her direction. But before he could spot her, she turns her back on the window, ready to get in the shower and start her day. She doesn't know that his eyes lingered on her window, only for a few seconds, then slowly, he looked away, back up to the sky. The rain is about to stop. And he doesn't walk away until the sun shines through the clouds.

"Ackerman, huh?" The man nods his head as he looks at her ID. "Quite the last name you got there."

Mikasa Ackerman is quite the name, she's been told more times than she could count. Born and raised in Paradis, she's very aware of the weight of her last name. She shares her last name with a famous Paradisian soldier that helped the end of the Rumbling and is still, to this day, revered. Though, there are a few who would disagree. He's in history books, despite his known distaste of being the center of attention, and as he should be for his part in history. The Rumbling had only occurred just over a hundred years ago, but in many places, the wounds are still fresh, and the horrors etched into history.

Mikasa nods as the man by the desk grants her entry to the museum, pointing her in the direction of where she could find the rest of her class.

Her trip to Hizuru is more of a university trip than a vacation. Being one of the few selected to come to this trip, she couldn't say no. And how could she say no to visiting a country she knows is a part of her, despite her lack of knowledge of the place. This trip is an educational one, through and through.

The University planned for a trip around Hizuru's many historical sights, and the first stop is here, the first-ever Paradisian museum outside of the island country. Hizuru remains to be the closest ally of the small island nation, and it doesn't seem like that is changing any time soon, not with the close ties made with the royal family of Paradis and the head of the Hizuruan nation.

Once everyone arrives, they all follow the lead of their tour guide for the day through the many historical artifacts within the museum. Mikasa didn't think she'd get more than she'd already know from history class, but there are quite a few new things she does learn. More insight into Hizuru's view on their history, a few artifacts that held specific value, and photographs she doesn't recall seeing before.

"And over here is a photograph of the famous team with Armin Arlert, the Hero who stopped the Rumbling."

Eyes fixate on the photograph. It's one she's seen many times before. The team that stopped the horror that was the Rumbling, and Armin Arlert, the man who stopped it. It's a part of history everyone knows. If not for them, who knows what state the world would be in now. But the photo always has her thinking. None of them look genuinely happy in the photo. Armin Arlert, the man himself, in particular, looks relaxed, but there's an underlying feeling that comes to her everytime she sees his face in this photo, telling her his mind was full of many things when that photo was taken. Whatever they could be, no one can truly know.

"Armin Arlert as well as most of the people in this photo became diplomats for Paradis after the Rumbling. As you all can imagine, it would have been a terribly difficult job but their actions…"

As the tour guide goes on, Mikasa's eyes continue to study the enlarged photo in front of her, not able to get the nagging voice in her head to quiet. She moves her focus to the others in the photograph, then back to Armin. If she could put what she thinks into words, she could. There's something in the slight furrow of his brow that tells her he's hiding something. Is it perhaps guilt? Guilt of what?

"I heard from my great grandmother that there's someone missing in this photo."

All eyes turn to one person to the side, her hand raised.

"Nah, I doubt that. Why would they want to miss that?" Another student says.

"Actually," a grin lines the lips of the guide. "There have been rumors about that."

That piques Mikasa's interest.

"Nothing is confirmed, but there were talks of another woman in their group, particularly those who knew of the Scouts in Paradis, but no one in the group ever spoke of her during interviews."

It must be a very old rumor. Mikasa's never heard of this before. If there truly was another person in that group, why would they keep her secret? Perhaps it would remain one of history's greatest secrets.

She's well aware that even after Paradis joined the world stage, many secrets had been kept. Either because of doubt or because it wasn't safe to share or both, time will tell, but such is politics.

The tour ends, and the tour guide invites them to remain and walk around the museum however they pleased. While some leave, a few remain, including her. She had never been one too keen on history. Of course, she knows of its importance, but she never had the compulsion to dive deeper than what she had been given. Today is different.

She takes the stairs to the second floor, portraits of former kings and queens of Paradis line the walls as she makes her way up. At the top, a portrait of Queen Historia Reiss, so young to have been made queen, so young to have become a mother, and yet she never faltered in her position. She always found her fascinating.

In the middle of the room, there was a display of Paradis before the Rumbling. 3D modeled walls surrounding a small territory. It would have been large to them, a world hidden behind walls, sheltered from the rest of humanity as they feared their very existence. Would it have been blissful ignorance or frustration at the walls caging them in?

"Like cattle," she whispers, not knowing where the thought came from, the words escaping her lips in a soft breath.

What would it have been like if she had been there? She'd never thought about it deeply before. What would she do? What would be her purpose?

"Forget about me."

A voice. A man's voice. She blinked, looking around her to see who could have said it, but she's alone.

Suddenly, she feels a pulsing ache in her head. Bringing a hand up, she rubs her temple, urging it to leave.

" Mikasa, please," the voice is soft but it rings louder in her head. "Forget about me."

She takes in a sharp breath as the room swirls around her, her feet unsteady. She grabs the column nearby, hoping to steady herself, wishing the abrupt pain would disappear. Then, the voice grows louder.

" Please. "

Her heart beats uncontrollably.

" Forget about me. "

And the room turns dark.

Her eyes open, the pain vanishing as suddenly as it appeared.

"Mikasa..."

That voice!

It's him again. She knows it is.

Green eyes stare back at her, concerned. He's older than in her dream, about her age now. But she could tell it's him. It's his brown hair, his tan skin, his magnetic eyes.

"Why are you crying?"

Crying?

She brings a hand to her face, a finger to her cheek.

"...Huh?"

She is crying.

Just like in her dream, she can't control her body, can't say what she thinks. She just automatically responds.

"I wonder why…"

She does wonder why.

"I… started asking myself if it's really okay for me to be here."

His gaze shifts downwards, almost guilty but not ashamed. Melancholy is etched in his features. "You know there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Huh?"

"The two of us abandoned everything. We escaped out here. Ever since then…"

Where is here? And what happened then?

"It's been two months since the Marleyan War ended. The war to invade Paradis will begin soon."

Marleyan War.

Invade Paradis?

What is this dream?

"Running away is the only way for anyone to survive." He sighs. "I bet Armin is looking all over for us now."

Armin?

She can't hear the rest of what he says, her mind reeling at what she could possibly be dreaming about. Perhaps she should get checked. Was it stress?

"Mikasa," her name upon his lips stir her from her thoughts. "Wasn't it you who suggested it first?"

His eyes are tender, looking down at her with the same warmth she felt in her dream before she woke. "Yes," her lips utter.

She feels her body stand, a familiar warmth around her neck and she realizes she's wearing a scarf again.

The scarf.

Making her way to him, her arms wrap around his torso in a hug, her head resting on the crook of his neck, feeling the soft beats of his heart against her chest. A moment like this should feel different. It should feel like the warmth of his chest. The warmth of his eyes in the way he looks at her. The warmth of the scarf around her neck. Something similar to the moment in her previous dream.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I know I promised I wouldn't bring this up."

Yet this, right now, feels glum, almost tragic.

And it's painful.

She feels his breath against her skin, his arms snaking around her waist to reciprocate her embrace. He's breathing slow, as if thinking deeply about what to say next. His presence is comforting, yet it doesn't do much to quell the gloomy atmosphere.

"Will you make me one more promise." He sounds sad, his voice trembling slightly by the end. Inhaling her scent, she feels a slight tremor from his body. "Throw the scarf out once I'm dead."

Her eyes shut close.

What?

Both dreams, she had the scarf. She knows its importance. But why did it hurt so much to hear him say that?

"You have a long life ahead of you…"

Her hands grip onto his shirt.

"So forget about me…"

The notion torments her.

"Be free."

And yet, deep down she knows he doesn't have much time left.

But why?

Her eyes open, her gaze at the ground as she engraves his warmth around her into her mind.

"Please…"

A plea.

"Mikasa."

Her name.

"Forget about me."

She has to know you to forget you.

And yet, despite that, she knows she never will.

"Are you crying?"

Her eyes open, wide and surprised. Taking in her surroundings, she realizes she's still at the museum.

"Did something happen?"

Oh.

Her shoulders sag. It's only the tour guide.

"No," she replies, wiping away the tears. "I'm fine."

The tour guide nods slowly. "Well, seeing the history around you. It can be overwhelming."

Wordlessly, she agrees. Though, she knows the history isn't what's causing the immense barrage of feelings, thoughts all rushing into her mind. It's a rush, a flood breaking through the confines of her thoughts, filling the abyss within, letting dormant wonders float up to the surface.

Had this happened before? Something tells her it has. Those dormant wonders only leave her with more questions than answers, and the floodwater that filled the abyss disappear into the depths. It leaves her with only his face.

Only his eyes.

Only the scarf.

"Ah, did the model of the Walls catch your attention?"

She's reminded of the woman's presence, turning to the model she speaks of.

"It must have been hard for the Eldian behind the wall then, don't you think?"

To live in ignorance of the world around them, a world out to get them. Once they found out, Mikasa imagines the turmoil it might have caused, the urgency to be freed from such a life.

"Then again, it was hard for Eldians in general. A world so cruel…" She trails off, her eyes wandering to somewhere far away.

Mikasa observes her. She's rather short, but in the way she stands, Mikasa sees a carefree nature. Shoulders relaxed, not a visible weight or burden she could see from her form, nor did she appear to bear such a thing in the way she speaks.

"And yet, despite all the hardships, the country still stands today. A testament to their will, I think."

"You're very passionate about Paradisian history."

Her eyes shift to her face. "I feel like most Paradisians are. Eldians in general. Don't you think so, too?"

Mikasa blinks.

"You're from Paradis, right?"

"Yes," she confirms, dragging the word out. How did she know? Most people think she looks more Hizuruan than Eldian. Perhaps she'd been given files on the students. But why would a tour guide need such a thing? And since she is half-Hizuruan, it wouldn't be unusual for a Hizuruan to live in Paradis in these times.

"I can tell." Her smile is small, but there's something more in the upward curl of the corners of her lips. "Besides, it being my job, I'd say I have to be."

She's right. Perhaps, with all things considered, it's making her read too much into things. Her mind is in such a disorderly state at the moment that it could just be messing with her, making her overthink. She's not one to do that, opting for simplicity rather than overcomplicate. But today, from the moment she'd awaken, has been far from normal.

"What would you think?"

"Of what?"

"If you were there? One of them, behind the walls, shielded from everyone?"

Something she had just been thinking about.

"Maybe it's too heavy a topic to be talking about to a stranger." She laughs. It's almost childlike. "Not the best way to strike up a conversation, but I just find it fascinating. Eldia, Paradis, the Hero Armin. It must have been difficult for him, I can imagine. It is known that Eren Yeager was a close friend of his. To kill someone you love like that… Must have been quite a strong-willed person."

Her voice, a knowing look covered by pity at the thought. That paired with her sandy blonde hair masking the side of her face as she looks down, it's somewhat haunting.

What is wrong with her today? Is she sick? She feels fine, physically. Nothing is out of the norm except for her odd dreams, the strange sensations she feels while having them. What could explain that? Still reeling from the bizarre experience she had in the museum, she walks through the streets, wishing to be back in her hotel room. Not even noon, and she's already tired.

And it's getting chilly. The early morning rain brought in cool air for the day, and she hadn't prepared for it as she should have. Rubbing her hands on her upper arms as she walks through the streets, she quickens her step.

The traffic lights turn green, and cars begin moving. She waits as they come and go, her shoulder almost brushing the street sign pole next to her. If only she had brought a jacket. Or a scarf.

She shakes her head. No. She would wait until she's warm to think about it.

Then, a gust of cold air sweeps through, her hair fluttering with the wind as the chill sends goosebumps up and down her arms and her neck. Her hands tighten around her upper arms, eyes shutting close for a moment.

But as she opens them, her vision is obscured by something. She feels soft fabric against her skin, on her face.

Her fingers curl around it, freeing her eyes from it, and looks down. Her heart stops.

This couldn't have been a coincidence.

For in her hand is a red scarf.

And as her eyes drift up, as the cars slow to a stop, on the other side of the road, is a man, his hands outstretched, as if reaching for it. Even from afar, his eyes are bright, wide, and captivatingly green. Tan skin, and hair a russet hue.

It's him.

And she can see his lips move. She shouldn't be able to hear him, for it's a soft whisper, a gentle call. But it's as if the whisper drifts into her ear. Because she hears his voice.

"Mikasa."

Notes:

Next chapter: Eren Yeager

Hope this isn't bad. This is my first AOT work and I'm nervous dsjfhskjf

Also, planning to make an AruAni socmed AU. If you wanna check it out, it'll be posted on Twitter (cxnnectfeelings)! As for this, this is going to be part of a series of one-/ two- shots of fics about reincarnated aot ships. The next is probably going to be a YumiHisu one because they deserve.