a/n: i'm sorry, I'm a terrible updater. i'm a terrible highschooler, too. you'd think I'd have been busy being productive, but... not even. this has been sitting in my drafts for quite a while. i apologize, again. also, thank you to everyone who spends time leaving a review! they make my day.
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"Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red."
Macbeth (2.2.61-3)
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She follows the boy home. Follows him to the fields where he is sent of collect wood by his mother, when in reality it is her nimble hands that get scratched up while he dozes peacefully under a shade. She follows when he rushes headfirst into a fight, his determination strong but her fists stronger, and the first time he tells her: I didn't need you to fight them for me, but the words dry themselves out over time.
He leads. She suspects he isn't aware of it - his instincts and almost romantic yearning for the world outside carry his feet, and when he leaves he expects not to be followed. But as the sights outside are the forces that propel him forward, puppet-like, he is that for her.
She follows when he decides - or, rather, actually walks into a military base and registers to become a soldier. It had never been a hard decision, or one made in haste, or one made only recently; it is no surprise. It is one that, as children, he had talked endlessly about - When I'm eligible I'm going to train for the army - I'm not going to sit around and be cattle! - a desire so integrated into his thinking, engrained into his soul, that it is physically a part of him, strengthened only by the year of restlessness between the fall of Wall Maria and the beginning of their military career, when days were dark and dreams turned improbable, hands numb against the cold of the winter, children barely old enough to take care of themselves forced into labour to live –
That year they watch as the light leaves Armin's eyes, slow and dream-like with each wane of the moon; Eren and Mikasa share furtive glances, and when they are old enough, they join a cause to commit to, a plan of action, if only to do something. Armin follows.
She follows when Eren says he is going into the Survey Corps. Here is another one - a given she had expected, so she is not surprised. He is, however, when she tells him If you go, I'm going with you.
You should join the Military Police. His voice is gruff, but the edges in his eyes are soft. You're the top graduating student. You, of all people, deserve to be safe inside the walls.
She doesn't know why, but his words leave a flush in her cheeks. He doesn't notice. He makes more attempts at persuading her into choosing the safer path, if safety is something they can guarantee at all – You don't owe me anything, you know –
I have a debt to repay, is all she says. He groans in frustration, and she pulls the scarf up to her cheeks. There is I'm not just doing this for you, I'm doing it for me in her thoughts, and she tries but it is so selfish, too selfish – and the words never leave her.
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He's not hurt, thank god – she stands and looks around her, heart turning itself inside out in her chest, though she has no idea why – "Where's Eren?"
Armin finally looks up at her, blue eyes large and wild and so sorely apologetic, her own eyes widen in response; I haven't seen him like this since his grandfather passed, she thinks, and for a moment her head blazes and the everything is in stop-motion and she sees him open his mouth to speak and she wishes he would stop, wants to reach out and hold his words back, wants to fly back over the walls while she can because the throbbing in her chest stops but it comes back doubled and she knows. She knows she knows she knows she wishes she didn't know hadn't known didn't have to know, wishes she had been there because this would not be happening if she had just been there.
I can take all these titans down. I can lead everyone into safety. Her mind numbs. She turns to the others, calls them weak, spineless cowards; the words are cruel but she couldn't care less. Her body moves ahead of her, and she lets herself go; her mind wanders into galaxies of green, eyes wide and ablaze with an inextinguishable fever, the grasses of Shinganshina they had lain upon as children, hopes and dreams and nightmares and debates on the shapes of the clouds spoken in hushed whispers under the expanse of blue sky. It is a green she will never see again –
She falls. Tumbles, if to better illustrate the ungracefulness of the action. She hits the ground and it should hurt but it doesn't, her body is sore but the thought is so far back into her mind she couldn't care to notice.
Gas. That had been the problem. She reprimands herself, stupid, stupid, stupid - but there is a part of her that knows she had been moving recklessly, letting her gas dwindle to nothing on purpose, you were well aware of what you were doing, whywhywhywhywhy
I called them cowards, she thinks, and something between a sob and a laugh escapes her, its taste acid in her throat. I prompted them into action. Led them to their imminent deaths, and I'm the one lying here giving up, while they fight because of me...
I'm sorry. It's always been me – I'm the cowardly one. I promised Eren I would follow him a long time ago, and this is me keeping my promise, always, until it all goes away.
Streams make their way down her cheeks. It is a last chance at mourning she does not refuse. To the other trainees Eren might've just been a suicidal bastard with a sense of purpose so strong it was almost painful in too many ways; and when she becomes another casualty as well, memory will fail others and deaths will become a normal occurrence – there will be no one to cry over the loss of the boy who had held her hand and led her out of the darkness and into the warmth of a safe home. Her hand clutches the tiny blade she has yet to lose – she watches it shake in her hands, scratching and cutting at her skin as the titanic footsteps move closer, its impact more the shaking of her tiny frame than the loud sound filling her every sense.
Her eyes close. This is it, she thinks. She is almost glad. Soon she is in the air – bones crush blood stops air fades from lungs; there are words on her tongue, an afterthought forming in her mind, but it is all gone before –
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They are surrounded by fellow soldiers, and he thinks he never thought he would see such a sight in his life – to be looked upon with fear and such a burning hate from people whose side he was on, people he fought with. Armin tries, but he isn't strong enough to hold them back, the poor boy had never had a chance – they bind Eren's hands, and he thrashes, screams – I'm human, I'm human, please – and Armin calls for him, but they restrain him too, hands behind his back, face pushed into the ground.
"He's rogue, he could turn anytime now – we aren't above killing Titans, after all –"
His hands find their way loose of the ropes and there is yelling as the soldiers realize this; he brings his hand to his mouth following a gut feeling, and his teeth graze skin when the cannon goes off.
When the smoke clears, both human-titan and protector are no more a threat – their lack of a pulse and a heartbeat is proof enough.
Mikasa isn't the only one to fall that day.
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a/n: yes we were reading macbeth in advanced english. also, father dearest lost my outline for this story and i'm honestly too lazy to write out a new one. i'm planning this as i go along, and it looks like this'll be much longer than i expected (if i keep splitting deaths and reincarnations, anyway). next up: a reincarnation and the female titan. mmm.