Some time ago
It was sheer luck that young Eren chanced upon his hapless friend on the way home from the market.
There were now four of them. Those four bastards had him pinned to the wall, like before. They must have dragged him to that alley, hoping to attract less attention, like before. The passersby within earshot of the commotion did nothing and went on their way, just like before. Why? Why the hell won't Armin defend himself? Why aren't any of these people stepping in to set things right? Damn it!
Without another moment of hesitation, he dropped the basket of vegetables where stood and charged, letting out a blood-curdling scream all the while. All four troublemakers looked in his direction, but it was too late for the one nearest Eren. Made more effective by his forward momentum, Eren's punch connected satisfyingly with the first perp's chin, knocking the latter flat on his ass. Ignoring the pain in his now throbbing hand, he swung his fist wildly at the second perp but, as luck would have it, missed entirely. Before Eren could recover for another hook, the two other perps grabbed his arms and one of them hit his gut, knocking the wind out of him.
"Guys!" Armin yelled, "Here's the coin, all I have with me! Just, take it and let him go. Let's just all go home and call it a day."
"Shut your trap, Arlert!" retorted Bully Boy No. 2, "Jaeger's got some blood to pay us back first. We'll deal with you later."
Bully Boy No. 1 scampered back up on his feet and stood in front of Eren, clutching his bruised jaw, "Let me at 'em Horace! Jimmy, Nelson, hold the squirming rat steady! I'm gonna make mincemeat outta ya, Jae—"
Without warning, Eren's head jerked forward, his forehead colliding with Bully Boy No. 1's still throbbing jaw. The latter howled at the sudden jolt of pain.
"Damn, Bert!" the one called Horace quipped, "Not feeling lucky today, are we?"
Bert looked askance at Horace, blood seeping out his nose, "You on the rat's side now, Horace? Maybe I ought to teach you both a lesson then, eh?"
Before the perps could turn against one another like predators arguing over the last morsel of their prey, Bert's rotten string of luck persisted. The lights finally went out when he sustained a blow to the back of the head, his limp form comically toppling Horace. The two remaining perps restraining Eren were incapacitated just as quickly, their wild punches harmlessly hitting air while their torsos and faces got bruised in return.
Evidently, Horace was the brightest one in the gang, "It's Mikasa! Jim, Nelson, help me up with Bert! Folk say that forest girl's cursed! Run like hell!"
When the gang finally scrammed, Eren made a motion to pursue them, his chest teeming with hatred. Now this!? I'll teach them to speak of her like that! Eren would have had his way had Mikasa not held the impetuous boy back, a firm hand clamping on his shoulder.
"Eren. That's enough for one day. Let them go."
He brusquely shoved her hand aside, facing her squarely, "I'm not gonna let some scum treat us like bugs! I'm gonna punish them!"
"And then what? Once you have the upper hand, what exactly do you intend to do? Murder them the way those traffickers did my parents? You're better than this, Eren."
The girl walked past a stunned Eren and checked up on Armin, who looked fine for the most part. Her face contorted in an expression of concern.
"Armin, are you hurt? We have some medicines back home."
The blond straightened his ruffled clothing and picked up his book before giving her a tired smile, "I'm fine Mikasa, they hardly laid a finger on me. Nothing atypical really, they just wanted some coin I had on my person. We should see how Eren's doing; they tagged him at least once."
The girl turned back to her other friend, feeling slightly guilty at not checking him for injuries immediately, "Eren, let me see?"
The all too familiar scowl returned, "Listen, I'm fine! Stop worrying about me! And I had the situation under control before you butchered everything!—"
"And I'm grateful, Eren," Armin stepped in before the temperature could rise any further, "To you and Mikasa for getting me out of that pickle. Now I think it's time for us to head home. I, for one, have to help out back at the house."
"Same for us," Mikasa replied, "Aunt Carla's expecting us to be home by now. You sure you'll be okay, Armin?"
"Of course, home's not too far from here. You two take care, and I'd recommend checking up on him once he blows off some steam," Armin's voice grew noticeably quieter as he said the last words.
"Heard that!" said Eren as his childhood friend started walking away.
"Not sure what you're talking about Eren. I'll see you guys tomorrow at school. Got a big week ahead of us!"
When the two of them were left alone, Mikasa started walking without waiting for the boy, "C'mon, your Mom's waiting for us. Make yourself useful and pick up the basket you dropped. Or do you want us to have nothing to eat for dinner?"
Taken aback by her bluntness, he nonetheless complied and wordlessly walked beside her, still embittered by the pesky troublemakers. It was not until they were nearly home that Eren discerned something odd about Mikasa's hands. Her knuckles and fingers were bruised, and must have hurt from the looks of it. The boy then recalled her rubbing her hands together a few times on their way home.
In a blink of an eye, his rage over the young thugs that harassed them earlier evaporated.
"Hey," he tapped her shoulder with his free hand, "let me see."
For a moment, they both stood still and the perplexed girl replied, "See what exactly?"
"Don't be stupid. Your hands, lemme have a look."
Reluctantly, Mikasa let the boy gingerly take her hands in his. Surprisingly, his touch was rather gentle, standing in stark contrast to his usual brashness. She could never bring herself to tell him, but she loved the way his hands supported hers. It was as if her hands were the most fragile things in the world, and so he took care not to harm them in the slightest. Little did he know that the purple spots that marred her skin were but the first of many wounds, marks borne of the love she so carefully conceals from him.
He looked back at her eyes, "I'll take care of this. Let's pick up the pace, and try not to move your hands a lot."
"Eren, it's not that bad. Really. It'll be gone in a few days at most."
Of course, there was little she could do to dissuade him. When they were home, Carla gave her son some icebags and healing ointments, and the boy wasted no time upon receiving them. While his Mom prepped dinner for that evening, Eren busied himself attending to Mikasa's hands at their modest living room.
"You know, I can do this by myself later, after we finish our chores. It doesn't hurt terribly."
"Just sit still. This won't take long."
Choosing not to argue with him, they instead sat in silence, the icebag being gently dabbed along her small knuckles and fingers. After a few moments, her nurse decided to break the silence.
"Listen, I... I'm sorry about the way I reacted earlier. I just don't like dragging you to my fights, because THIS happens," emphasizing her slight injury, "And it could have been worse. I don't want you getting hurt because of me."
"And I can't just stand back and watch you get hurt. Don't get mad but, please try to understand."
He put away the icebags and started applying a lather of the ointment, "I'm not mad, Mikasa. Just frustrated I did a piss-poor job protecting you today. I put you in harm's way. That is not supposed to happen, at all."
Before he could finish applying the medicine, she threw her arms around him and pulled him close, hoping the gesture would at least quell his troubled mind. Actions become the language of the heart when words fail to express what it truly wishes to convey. Her chin resting snugly on his shoulder, she hoped he understood what her heart was trying hard to communicate.
We're still here, alive, and that's more than what I can ask for. So stop it. You matter so much to me.
He embraced her back, and everything felt so right at that immortal moment.