Mémoires = Memories
December, 843
Klink.
His vision wavered, and he was four years old again.
Sweat, booze, tobacco-stained teeth, rancid breath. As he took in his mother's form in front of him, he could still feel it, so hot, so yucky on his rounded, angelic face.
Levi blinked, seeing her in front of him, her brows knitted in confusion, concern– but the memory yanked him back before he could say anything, and the sound of fabric shuffling filled his ears, a tugging sensation jostling his clothes. He felt the sudden urge to smack away the phantom hands grasping at the fabric covering his body, sickening words coming to mind that had bile rising to his throat.
"I guess you'll just have to do, kiddo. Be a good boy for me, will ya?"
The noiret clutched at the ground in front of him, looking down at his hands, so small– no, wait, not small– normal-sized, adult-sized. His breaths panted out of him, the sounds of his own phantom screams felt like they were drowned out, suffocated by his own terror, his own helplessness.
He shook his head, trying to break through the conflicting sounds of his ragged breathing, his screams, and the pounding of his heart, and a new sound emerged. It was the resounding reverberation of a door banging open, slamming against the wall, making the room shake, and it rang in his ears like the toll of a deathly bell.
Levi heard her calling out to him– so sweet, so warm, but then another voice broke through, fainter, but deafening all the same. It was her voice, but different, conflicting with the one coming from the woman in front of him. This one was full of disgust and hatred– it lacked the melodic cadence that was the signature of his kind-hearted mother.
"Get your filthy hands off my fucking son."
He no longer heard the panting of his breaths, the roaring of his blood in his head. All he heard were the squelching sounds of tearing flesh that came from outside the door of their humble room. It made his stomach ache and churn, listening to the sound again.
"You're going to pay for that."
He somehow managed to drag his gaze from the ground– not even registering the dirt now lodged beneath his nails– meeting her pools of grey-blue once again, full of fear, worry, terror, and he remembered the look in her eyes when she charged at him, when she ripped the man off of him. At that moment, the terrified boy– in his mind, keeping him caught between memory and present– mustered the courage to open his eyes, and witnessed a shade, a darkness looming in his mother's habitually glimmering and kind eyes. Those eyes held no love, no remorse– anger was the only thing she felt, and it was like a shadowy aura that hung over her.
If you'd asked him back then, he would have said that as she stabbed the man and pulled him away, her eyes were more rouge than the dripping, drenching blood.
She had made that same look again, gripping that wooden knife in her pallid hands– just without the red.
And it sent him plummeting right down into his own personal hell.
The sound of his juvenile voice rang in his ears, the cries, the begging. He swore that his ribs were burning from the kick he'd received from that carnal, predatory bastard.
"MAMA! MAMA!"
"Li-Li? Levi, baby, look at me."
The delicate, feather-like voice finally tore him out of the fog, as though he had been scouring the horizon for a beacon of hope, of salvation. The blue-grey of his mother's eyes held his attention as the world melted back into his senses, and the warmth of her palms against his pallored cheeks acted like a hoisting anchor, keeping him grounded for long enough to regain his composure as much as he could.
"Mama's here, baby. I've got you, just like always."
His mother drew him against her, kneeling in the dirty, dusty ground to do so. Her hands, so maternal, so loving, caressed wherever she could reach as his erratic breathing desperately attempted to even out. Levi's sharp chin rested on her shoulder, and before his gaze could dart around to see the other cadets, Kuchel's hand came to cradle the back of his head, her palm grazing over his undercut. Something in the back of his mind told him that they were all staring, and that she was trying to shield him from seeing it.
Normal people would be embarrassed, but Levi never gave a shit what other people thought about him. Not once.
Kuchel felt her heartbeat thrumming in her ears, eyes wide as she tried to console him. It terrified her to the core to see him like this, not having witnessed emotions like this from him in years. Soldiers were rushing to get a look at Humanity's most promising soldier having a meltdown, and she'd be damned if these snivelling little teens made light of her darling boy's feelings.
The noirette had never been a fan of the 'boys don't cry' mentality.
Isabel and Furlan slowly approached to try to help, of course, with their close friend being so vulnerable in front of others. It was no wonder that they were concerned, just like she was. However, Kuchel was quick to wave them off, and when the trembling in Levi's bones slowed to a meek quiver, the inky-haired woman assisted him to his feet, hurrying to lead him away, making sure he kept his head down as she passed the other Scouts and Section Leaders.
Her eyes were dark, dour, dangerous, sending daggers dripping with daring derision at any of the fuckers who dared to cast judgement upon her darling, precious, perfect Levi.
The only pair of eyes that didn't waver was a now-familiar shade of sky blue, belonging to none other than Erwin Smith. Her glare was a warning– one he didn't need, and one he didn't take. At first, that made her blood boil, but as she marched away, with Levi's arm slung over her shoulders for support, the heat dissipated.
The look that had been swirling within the Section Leader's eyes was a mixture of many emotions, but it wasn't a look of pity, or judgement. If anything, he looked relieved that Kuchel was there to help her son, impressed with her tender care.
Perhaps there was even a delicate twinge of yearning, of admiration, but the middle-aged woman wasn't too sure about that one, nor did she see fit to dwell on it.
As she helped him back to the barracks, the scene played out in her head again, trying to piece together just what had happened. One moment, she was prepared to spar against him, the next, they were huddled on the training grounds, and he was whimpering for her as though he were a little boy again.
Her first reaction was that he was remembering something from his preteen days, when she had been absent from his life, and Kenny had been watching over him. Kuchel didn't know much about those three-ish years besides what Levi decided to tell her. There could have been many incidents that he withheld from her, but it wasn't as though she could open up his noggin and search around in those memories to determine just what he was reliving.
Once they got to the barracks, she kicked the door open to his and Furlan's quarters, but before she could help him sit, he broke away, stumbling forward to grab onto the bunk bed to stabilise himself. Kuchel kept quiet for a moment, analysing his movements, trying to decode his breathing, his grip on the wooden slat of the bedside. After so many years, she could tell so many things about him from simple physical things.
"Levi-"
"That man." Her son cut her off, sharply, his words agile and swift, indicating to her that he was still on edge. Nerves curled around the edges of his tone, she could hear the warbling, the waver, the distinct signs that not even Isabel nor Furlan could detect. "That man… was he… was he going to…? Do you think he…?"
His head cocked slightly to look back at her in the doorway, and even from where she stood, she could recognise the pain, the fear, the melancholy, the helplessness that was leaking from every part of him.
Then she realised just what he had remembered, and bile rose in her throat, only to be forcibly swallowed back down so that she could speak.
"I… I do. But I wasn't going to let that happen."
The raven-haired beauty was at a loss for words, as though every reassuring thing she could say came tumbling out from her mind and scattered across the stone floor, like marbles spilled from a child's satchel. There was only silence between them for a long moment, with the air filled only with dust and creaking, settling noises of wooden beams in the ceiling above their heads, due to cadets walking around on the next floor up.
"Mama… I need some time. Alone, if you don't mind."
Though the tone of his usually stoic voice tore her thrumming heart to shreds, it was, of course, not the first time that he'd wanted time to himself to think, to ponder, to speculate. He was a grown man, and with that came times when he wished for solitude. Who was she to deny that of him? He was strong enough, big enough– Levi could make his own decisions, and when he needed her, she would always be there for him.
No matter what.
"Of course, baby. Just come find Mama when you want to talk, okay birdie? I love you." Her hands reached out to draw him in, giving the bridge of his narrow nose a caring, adoring kiss, and brushing some hair out of his eyes. Levi could only muster the strength to nod for her, and Kuchel took that as her cue to exit the room, shutting the door behind her.
Wherever she went on base for the rest of the day, stares were pointing her way.
Cadet eyes bored into her skin, burning her flesh worse than that damn bullet in her ankle all those years ago. The curious, judging glances bit at her paleness, making her itch with hives of discontent, of ire. Who were they all to whisper about the day's events on the training field, gossiping in Walls knew what way?
If they were still in the Underground, she'd have knocked and rattled the heel of her boot into each of their mouths, and sent pearly, white teeth clattering across the stone floor. Kuchel never liked nosy fucks that couldn't mind their damn business.
The only place she found some peace was outside, in the field on the outskirts of the base. She didn't care that it was cold, or that the frigid, biting air clawed at her pores– the thoughts erratically hurrying through her brain sent a certain numbness through her. Kuchel had been almost certain for the past two decades that Levi had been too young to entirely remember the event, and had never shown any sign that he, in fact, had any recollection of it. Just a few months ago, he had mentioned to her that he remembered the simple, quiet moments beforehand, with her holding him on his hip and reading the note Amelia left on the door, but as far as she had been aware, the horrid event itself had fleeted from his mind.
Kuchel had desperately hoped it would stay like that, but now that she thought about it, staring at the blue sky, it had only been a matter of time before he remembered something.
"Miss Kuchel?"
The sound of the voice almost made her groan, but she simply sat up on her elbows, casting a glance over her shoulder to see a face that made her scowl in vexation, though, as the weeks had pressed on, she'd found it a bit harder to remain so disdainful.
"What is it, Section Leader Erwin?"
If he was taken aback by her tone, he didn't bend under the weight of mere knee-jerk reactions. It took him a moment to answer, her slate eyes darkening with annoyance the longer it took him to speak to her. "I came to check on you, after what happened earlier. Plus, I was in my office, and I could see you lying out here in the grass as though you'd been conked over the head by a log. I can't have one of my most promising cadets losing more of her memory."
At first, she was going to snap at him for off-handedly prodding at the fact that she'd been in a coma, but her tongue felt clumsy and fuzzy, her mind trying to process his words. "Most promising cadets?"
"Well I'd certainly say so." Erwin nodded thoughtfully, grunting as he took a seat by her, with a few feet of respectful distance between them. The noirette continued to lean back on her forearms, feigning indifference to his kind words. He then proceeded to stretch his legs out, resting his hands in the grass behind him to look up at the sky with her for a moment. "I apologise for convincing you to spar against your own son. It obviously disturbed him in a way I couldn't have foreseen, but that doesn't mean that I don't regret having you do it. I'm terribly sorry."
Sorry? Someone was truly sorry for what their actions had put her through?
In any other situation, Kuchel would have been hesitant to accept an apology for such a thing. Men in her many years in this world had never conceded that a damn thing was their fault, especially if they wronged her.
Words of past experiences bounced around in her head, fogging and haunting her once more, though she'd hoped a long time ago that she'd forgotten such terrible interactions.
The sneer of a customer.
"Stupid whore, if you'd just done what I asked, I wouldn't have had to smack you around to get off."
The scoff of the pimp, Crystal snickering nearby at the sight of Kuchel being scolded.
"Olympia, you're the sole reason that you've not been making any damn coin. That kid's starving because you won't put out."
The vile, venom-veneered, volatile words of her own mother.
"You've got no one to blame but yourself. You deserve it for being a devil."
Recovering swiftly, Kuchel reclined fully once again, folding her hands over her belly as the clouds rolled through the azure vastness above their heads. "You didn't have any idea, and I didn't think sparring would trigger that in him. It's never happened before. It's… not your fault. I accept your apology, thank you."
There was a sigh of relief that left the slightly-younger man's lips. Kuchel's gaze fell to his face, and even from her current position, she could see that his profile was notably rugged, yet unique. In particular, along with his large, intimidating eyebrows, the man's visage donned a large nose with a bump on the bridge, and while some ridiculed noses such as his, Kuchel had never understood that sort of thing. In her opinion, it suited him well, as most people's noses did.
She'd been told once that her own beak was rather angled, remarkably sharp, but when she was told that Levi sported the same feature, it let her get a good look at the shape– indeed, the slope was clear cut like the edge of a glass pane, no bump like Erwin's. Her darling son's nose was ever-so-slightly bigger than hers, due to his sex, but as many had said, they were uncannily similar– strikingly, even.
"If it's not prying too much, may I ask what upset him?"
The curiosity-laced inquiry tugged Kuchel away from her thoughts about physique, wondering what to say that wouldn't sound too screwed up. Life in the Underground City was brutal, and Kuchel had raised Levi in a brothel. Erwin knew both of these things, but she was reluctant to share the nitty-gritty details about certain things. "I'm fairly certain he had a memory that he'd forgotten about until he saw me holding the knife... of me protecting him from a client."
"Oh." Alright, now he seemed outwardly shocked– at least now she could glean that emotion from the puzzling man. "That… that's horrible, I'm sorry that happened to you both. It must have been hard, doing that sort of thing to raise your son."
His tone set her at ease, when any other man saying such a thing to her would have earned them a broken jaw. Pity never suited Kuchel, nor did she enjoy the pity of others, but this wasn't pity. It felt more like sympathy, empathy, understanding.
Perhaps even thoughtfulness.
"It was."
"You're a very strong woman, Kuchel. Not many could go through what you did and remain a good, loving mother."
She knew that all too well, the hollowing, despair-inducing feeling of a lack of love, of care. The raven-haired woman recalled that once she knew for sure that she was with child, she vowed that she would never let her baby go a single moment without knowing how loved they were. It didn't matter that she was the only one around, or that she hadn't known what maternal love was supposed to be– she knew that when the time came, it would be instinctual.
Levi had never known a time when his mother did anything less than adore every fibre of his being. Anything for her baby. Anything.
However, there had been a time in her life when a baby was the furthest thing from her mind– the most dreaded, horror-inducing thing, even. At around ten years old, Kuchel had begun to notice babies, and asked a neighbour, Miss Ezelie Gineze, about where they came from. Tamas would have been too drunk to understand the question, Neora would have smacked her for asking such a thing, and Kenny, frankly, would have been of little assistance.
The kind older woman had taught her and her brother how to read, so she knew that Miss Ezelie knew something about babies. She had to!
It was a few hours after midday, though in the Underground, the Sun didn't dictate a single thing that anyone did. Night and day were of little importance to a society in perpetual darkness.
Kuchel knocked on her neighbour's door, and was greeted by a silver-haired, round-faced older woman, one that she smiled at in her usual sweet way. "Hi Miss Ezelie. I'm here for our lesson. But I also have a question for you."
After settling in, the dainty ravenette sat at the table, twiddling her thumbs. Miss Ezelie saw the nervousness on her expression, and gave a hearty chuckle, reaching to pat Kuchel's supple cheek. "It's okay sweetheart, just go ahead and ask."
"Okay, um… well, I see a lot of babies lately. Where do they come from? They seem like they're a lot of work, and Mama was pretty mad about having me, so do people actually want babies?"
Miss Ezelie tutted, handing Kuchel a piece of bread with butter. The woman was well aware of the treatment the petite girl received from her parents, and abhorred it. In fact, Neora had only hired the aged woman to teach Kenny because he was the son, the favoured child, the heir to the Ackerman name that would, in theory, pass it on. Their mother wanted him to be able to read and write, but could have given less than a shit about the younger of the two– the girl, the forgotten spawn, the she-devil, the nuisance, the waste of time. The woman took it upon herself to teach Kuchel out of the kindness of her heart, unable to stand idly by and let her be subjected to such blatant inequality.
"Oh darling, sugar plum, sweetpea, many people want babies. Your mama and papa were just people that didn't deserve them. A raven-haired angel like you would be adored by anyone else. Your parents just don't realise that they were given a blessing. But… as for where they come from, I'll tell you when you're a little bit older, alright honey?"
A 'raven-haired angel', huh? She loved the sound of that, adored the way it warmed her chest and made butterflies flutter in her tummy. Taking a bite of the yummy bread, she nodded sheepishly in response, the soft curls at the ends of her coal-coloured tresses bouncing with the gesture. "Mhm, okay, Miss Ezelie. Thank you."
After she'd finally been told about the process of birth, and all of the things you had to do to make a baby, Kuchel was sufficiently scared shitless. The thought of a man putting his thing inside of her terrified her– what if it ripped her in half? She was too tiny for that, much less an entire baby coming out of the same spot!
No way, no how, was she ever going to have a baby, or have sex. That was a big, fat, glaring no.
But some three months after her own mother had snatched her face and uttered discouraging, deliberately damaging words with her final breath, Kuchel began working at the Pink Pearl, unable to sustain herself on the streets any longer.
Another few months went by, and Crystal pointed out how she'd gained weight.
The rest was history at this point.
"I wanted to give my son everything I never had, and worked as hard as I could. In the Underground, that's hard, but he seems like he turned out okay." Her words dripped from her love-laden tongue, heavy with honeyed affection for her son. Simply the thought of him and all of his wonderfulness made her features soften in admiration.
"More than okay, I'd say." Erwin responded, his voice as silky-smooth as the caress of the late afternoon breeze. She didn't catch the way his blue eyes were drawn to her, lit with sentiments of praise and the utmost respect, even for something that most others would have deemed as being an unacceptable profession. There was a steady, unbroken pause in the conversation, but Erwin pierced the air with his sturdy voice. "Would you like to do something to get your mind distracted for a bit?"
Kuchel raised a brow. "What do you have in mind, Section Leader?"
"Well, how about a run?"
"Why in the hell would I want to run?"
Standing up, Erwin extended his hand to her. Reluctantly, she took it, noticing how calloused ODM gear had made his palms– not that that was necessarily a negative thing. Once she was on her feet, she rested her knuckles on her hips, awaiting an answer.
"Well, I was thinking that perhaps some friendly competition would make it a little less miserable for you to run. I'll do it with you. You know, unless you're afraid I'll beat you." A smirk quirked the corners of his mouth up, reminding Kuchel of the way Kenny defiantly did the same damn thing when he wanted to be competitive.
Kuchel knew exactly what that bastard was doing, trying to get under her skin like a splinter, like a pestering sliver that threatened to give her an infection of agitation. Unfortunately, she had always been stubborn as well as competitive, and it seemed as though Erwin had latched onto that like a burr in her side.
"I am not afraid of you beating me. You're a bulky, beefy guy, I'm a petite, nimble woman. I will beat you, no sweat." She challenged, going towards the track to take him up on his suggestion. The Section Leader followed after her, and Kuchel missed the pertinent smile that painted his handsome features.
"Well, to be fair, I do have longer legs than you. That means I could go further with each stride."
"While that's true, being smaller means I weigh less, and that means I can use less energy per stride."
"Well…"
"Oh, shut up and race me!"
Before the Section Leader could reply, Kuchel made a break for it in an attempt to get a head start on him, knowing well that it was a cheap trick to pull. The sound of boots pounding onto the ground behind her nearly sent a giggle through her as she booked it, vowing to beat him at his own game. He did have a point– his legs were longer than hers, and she'd be damned if she lost against that caterpillar-browed asswipe.
Erwin kept his word, racing her around the training track, and unfortunately, he did in fact beat her. That damn ankle of hers was a hindrance, no doubt, and there was a section of the track where uneven ground made the joint wobble, nearly sending her sprawling in the dirt.
She huffed and puffed, cheeks red and the heels of her palms resting on her knees as they cooled down. "Damn you. I'll beat you next time."
"Next time?" Erwin inquired. "Do you want to do this again?"
"Well, if I can do this instead of my morning laps, I'd prefer it. Running with someone who is encouraging and not a complete ass about my age is far preferable to listening to dumbass Flagon."
Through the soft exhales, as he caught his breath, the golden-haired man chuckled in amusement. "You really hate him, don't you? I can see why– he has been nothing but rotten to you, your son, Isabel, and Furlan. He sees you as less-than, just because you're from the Underground City."
"Yes, he's quite the misogynistic, judgy pig. I hope his skills with ODM and killing Titans are good enough to make up for it, Section Leader." Kuchel sighed, glancing to the Sun to try to gauge the time. "I think it's about past dinner… I'm going to wash up. I'll see you tomorrow, Section Leader Erwin."
The simper he gave her sent a gentle warmth through her, like a soft caress. "You're welcome. We'll do it again tomorrow."
A sentiment flowed through Kuchel that she couldn't even begin to describe for the duration of her shower. As she stood under the showerhead, letting hot water drizzle over her body, the steam puffed up around her, billowing upwards and fogging the room up. Being the only one in there, it didn't bother her too much as she scrubbed soap into her onyx locks. The heat felt nice on her aching muscles, and though it couldn't soothe her hurting heart, it was better than nothing.
The knowledge that her son remembered that event still haunted her, made a prickle crawl under her skin, her belly rolling at the mere thought of that moment all those years ago. She had no hesitation whatsoever in protecting him, in activating her Ackerman instinct to make sure that the fucker never saw the light of day again.
Hell, it had felt somewhat cathartic to twist that knife into his chest, to watch him suffer after laying his dirty, grubby hands on her darling little son.
Eventually, she had to get out of the shower, donning herself in most of the uniform again, save for the ODM gear straps. Fucking things were giving her blisters and wearing a permanent mark into her skin, she swore. Kuchel slipped the boots on last before exiting the showers, now seeing out the window that the Sun had finally fallen from the grace of the sky, sleeping for the night and giving way to the Moon.
I wonder what Levi has been doing all day, what he's been thinking about? I hope he's okay. He'll come talk to me when he's ready, I'm sure of it.
The time the woman had spent in the shower was apparently much longer than she had originally thought, because no one remained in the dining hall, and food had stopped being served. Things were cleaned up, and the scent of potato stew barely lingered in the dimly lit, stone-floored area. It was strange, seeing the benches so empty, but she pressed on to the kitchen with a bundle cradled in one of her palms. On that quick visit to Trost, she'd also purchased a petite tin of tea leaves, and had stopped to get them on her way to the kitchen.
Tea brewing had always been a calming thing for her, remembering when Kenny had taught her as a child. He'd learned from Neora, of course, mostly when they went up to visit Grandpa Ackerman. Tea was much cheaper when they visited the surface, and Kuchel recalled her mother smuggling some back home when they returned from their visits. The leaves were a sacred, valuable commodity, and if someone in the Rookery knew they had them, it could have been a death sentence. Starving, drug-addicted criminals wouldn't have hesitated to kill everyone in their small home to snatch that tea off their hands, to sell it to a fence to pocket more money for their fix.
The memory of Kenny teaching her brought a weak smile to her normally blasé façade, the scent of the dried leaves absorbing hot, bubbling water reminding her of those innocent, simple times, when the world was kind, if only for a moment. She measured as much as Kenny had instructed her all that time ago, and sang the gentle song under her breath that acted as a melodic timer. Not once had she made a bad cup when following her big brother's instructions, and now was no different.
The noirette sat down at one of the benches, nearest to the windows so that she could rest her temple against one. The cup was still scalding, so as she refrained from taking a sip right away, Kuchel gave the mixture time to cool, time to fill the surrounding, dusty air with a pleasant aroma.
Just before her first sip, the sound of boot heels clicking on the stone piqued her interest, guiding her gaze to the source of the sound. Before her eyes was her darling son, looking even more weary and exhausted than usual. He'd neglected to wear the jacket to his uniform, yet Kuchel doubted he cared much after the day's events.
As he sat down across from her, Kuchel gently reached across to touch his cheek. "Oh baby, you look so tired… Do you want this tea? I haven't drunk any yet…"
The dark-haired, blue-eyed soldier nodded, taking the cup of tea she offered and taking a pensive, patient sip as she got up to make another cup. When Kuchel returned, the two of them sat in a long stretch of silence. She didn't know what to say, what to do, what to think.
Before she could pipe up and shatter the thick veneer of tense silence, Levi's voice rumbled hushedly in his throat.
"I want you to tell me what happened. I need to know from your perspective. Being so small, I only remember bits and pieces, and it's making it worse."
The older woman's light-toned hands cupped the warm vessel against her calloused palms, her teeth snatching some of her inner cheek to chew on for a moment as she contemplated his words, as well as the memory of the past. "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Yes. Tell me everything, please. Don't hold anything back."
To any other person, the emotion in Levi's eyes would have been considered as bland, uninterested, or apathetic, but to Kuchel, to his sweet mother, it was evident that they were swirling with uncertainty, with distress, with anxiety. Though her childhood had been awful, she found it hard to fathom how hard it would have been for Levi to see such a dastardly thing through the innocent lens of being a four year old.
The ravenette cleared her throat, taking a sip of tea and focusing her argent-glinted gaze upon the surface of the oaky-coloured liquid that filled the white, ceramic cup. "I had gone down to the main floor of the brothel, to give the pimp a payout before starting the workday. I'd tried to take you to Amelia so you wouldn't have to stay in the room by yourself, but she wasn't there, and left the note that she would be back later." It felt nearly impossible to hold his gaze, his icy blue eyes filled with questions that he wanted the answers to. She was the only one who could provide them, even if explaining these events to her one and only baby made her heart lurch with disgust. "I-It was supposed to be a quick thing, and it was, but Crystal, if you remember her, told a client that I was waiting for him in the room. She directed that sleazebag into our personal room, instead of the one next to it that I used specifically for work– I started that after you were born, so you'd never have to be in the same room, and that cunt knew it well."
She missed how Levi's brows raised at the cursing, how he would forever remain surprised when she let a word slip that he would have been scolded for saying.
"I came upstairs, and right as my foot hit the top of the landing, I heard your scream…" Her delicate, motherly tone creaked like a squeaky, loose floorboard, and Levi watched her hurriedly take a long sip of tea in a desperate attempt to calm her nerves. She took a breath, soft and slow, before continuing. "It… it broke me, but when I rushed to the room and saw him pinning you down, I… thought my heart was going to stop. But something clicked inside of me, and I grabbed that knife from the stovetop, telling him to get away. He didn't move fast enough, so I stabbed him in the back, then dragged him out to the hall. After stabbing him in the chest and leaving him out in the corridor, I came to check on you. Then, after I got you cleaned up, you fell asleep, and I went to teach Crystal to never ever fuck with my baby."
After an excruciatingly lengthy pause, Levi asked, "Wait, you were the reason she looked so beat up?"
"Yes, I smashed her face into the stove, kicked the shit out of her, went insane." Kuchel's striking features hardened further at the remind of that dumb bitch, reminiscing for a moment over the satisfaction she'd received from pummelling that scummy woman into the dirty, wooden floorboards of her own room. She was quick to regain control of her thoughts, shaking off the darkness that had crept into her senses to focus on her son that sat before her. "If you ever have a child of your own someday, baby, you'll know how it feels when someone hurts your child, how a rage burns and crinkles up your heart into a ball of dust. All you can think about is murdering whoever dared to lay a finger on the biggest love in your life… I'm just grateful I got there before he really touched you."
Levi drank the words in, seemingly gargling them and swishing them around in his brain, only to knock them back into his belly with a sigh. "What a bastard. Thank you for protecting me, Mama. Not just on that day, but all the time. That includes coming all the way here, to try to save me from the Survey Corps. I'm just sorry that my actions lead you here, and that now you're stuck in it, too."
His grey-blue eyes caught the luminance of the lunar magnificence that graced the sky outside the window as he looked in that direction, eyelids looking heavy with exhaustion and guilt. "You should be at home, cozied up with your knitting, or cooking meals and singing a bar tune, not doing laps around the Scout Base, or sparring against big fucks with bad breath in the training field."
Kuchel sighed, pushing their cups to the side and presenting her hands to him, palms up. "Give me your hands, baby."
He peered at her curiously out of the corner of his eye, but with an encouraging nod from her, he did as he was told, resting his hands against hers. Her fingers curled against his, her thumbs brushing over the knuckles on his masculine fingers. It brought a lovely smile to her rosy lips, thinking about the many times she'd kissed his palms, or had grasped his hand in her own as they walked through the Underground, throughout his entire life.
"What is it, Mama?"
A gentle giggle escaped her. "Do you remember when we made bread together, when you were so small that you needed a stool to reach the stovetop?"
He watched her examine his hands, consciously noting every scratch, every scar, every rough patch, just as a mother hen would. "Somewhat. More so when I was older than when I was younger, though."
"Heh, well, it was quite cute. Want me to remind you?"
Thus began her story, her retelling of a sweet, tender moment that she could never forget, no matter how many times they did the same thing. Each iteration meant the world to her.
"Mama, lookie, it's doin' the yucky-ucky thingy!" Levi's innocent, bell-like voice rang through their room as he poked at the yeast starter for their homemade bread. It had been sitting in the closet for a few days at this point to let the mixture do its own thing, and it always ended up looking like the underside of the bed in an abandoned home– cobwebby and stringy, minus the spiders and dust. Levi was five years old, and although he was growing well enough, he was still on the shorter side, and couldn't see on top of the stove without using a stool. There he was, teetering on the balls of his feet, poking his fingers into the threads of yeasty dough and making a face.
Kuchel laughed quietly, wrapping her arms around his midsection from behind and blowing a raspberry into his chubby cheek. His hair tickled her nose, being so soft and lush that even the other prostitutes were envious of it– that and his eyelashes, dark, full, and angel-like, like an itty-bitty cherub. "Yes baby, you say that every week~"
"Yuh huh, but this time it's looking even stickier and gross-ier!"
"Li-Li-kins, that's not a word, silly boy." Her finger came up to boop his nose, unable to see the way he crossed his blue eyes at the tap. He snorted a bit in response, puffing up his chest and putting his hands on his hips with a semi-sassy stature.
"It is too! If it wasn't a word I wouldn't have been able to say it. Hah!"
The young prostitute pressed a kiss to his cheek, coming to his side to lay down the wooden cutting board that she'd made out of the broken top of a desk that had been tossed in an alley. It was rather large, and covered the whole stove, but it was perfect for a makeshift counter space. How resourceful.
The woman gently pried the dough out of the wooden bowl, letting it splay over the paper-thin layer of flour she'd spread over the surface to keep it from sticking. Levi kept poking at it, and she couldn't help but playfully grasp his petite hand, pretending to nip his fingers with her lips curled around her teeth loosely, as to not graze the delicate skin. "Nom nom nom, if you don't quit poking it, Mama's gonna just gonna have to eat those cute little fingers instead. How does that sound, birdie? You wanna be Mama's adorable little snackie? Hehe~"
"Nooo, I wanna keep my fingies and toesies, Mama, thank you!" His laugh was more beautiful than anything she'd heard before, and Kuchel prayed with all her heart that he'd never stop smiling, never stop chuckling and chortling at silly things– that he'd stay her tiny, wholesome, raven-haired angel forever.
"Alright, then stop poking it like it's a big, bloated belly, and help me knead it. Those strong hands of yours will be so good for that. Think you can handle the challenge of kneading, baby?"
"Of course, Mama. I can do anything! Just watch!" He exclaimed, eager to show her just how well he could knead the dough. Her hands joined his every few moments, guiding him to keep the glob in the centre– if the dough fell onto the floor, they'd be eating some pretty crusty, dusty bread.
Eventually, when it was done getting massaged by Levi's tiny hands, she plopped it in the cast iron pot, setting the lid on top before carrying it to the fire and setting it above it on a special, metal rack that kept it above the flame. It was necessary to cook it like this, because the oven space in her stovetop was far too small, and buying loaves of bread was sometimes more expensive than just making the damn things with your own two hands.
Or, in her case, her son's two hands.
When it was done, they ate it with a fresh apple she'd snagged from the fruit stall, and spread butter over thick slices of fresh, fluffy, delectable bread. It was a treat, for sure, but after earning a large tip that week, Kuchel figured it was just what her bubbly baby boy deserved.
"I do remember that. We made some great bread. Maybe we should sneak in here late at night sometime and make it again for ourselves. We could use extra butter this time." A mischievous look crossed Levi's sharp, brooding features, along with a glint of mild amusement in his eyes. "What did that have to do with what I said?"
"I had a point. I'm getting there." Adjusting herself a bit, the woman leaned in a bit to kiss the top of one of his hands, patting it with gentle fingertips in a ginger manner. "You say that I belong at home, doing those things. But baby, without you around, who would I do it for? You're my life, my sunshine, my rain on dry days, my breeze in the blazing heat. Every day without you would suck the soul out of me, make me worry sick for your well-being."
The few days she'd spent without her son, before she'd arrived at the Scout Headquarters, were proof enough that life without him was too much to bear. To some, it may have been silly, or overprotective, but she had been with him nearly every day of his life, and by now, the two of them were a bit too attached. Her eyes trailed dotingly over his strong, powerful hands once more, examining some scars that he'd never quite explained.
"Home is wherever I get to make bread with my son, where we sit and eat our meals together. This base can be just as much of a home to us, and along with those things we do, now we can make fun of Flagon and Sairam while we eat baked potatoes."
It nearly made her beam with joy at the sight of the corners of his lips perking up, obviously finding some truth as well as some humour laced into her cheeky words. "Okay, Mama. If you're happy with things the way they are, then that's fine with me, too. Home is wherever the heart is, right? Well, we can make it anywhere, then, and right here is good enough for me."
"That's what I like to hear, baby." Kuchel got up, picking the tea cups up to go wash them and put them away. When she returned, he was standing by the end of the benches, looking like he was more than ready to go sleep the events of the day away. "Mama, one last thing."
They began to walk out of the mess hall, steps in sync as they strode side-by-side.
"I'm sorry I ever doubted that you could protect yourself. You protected more than just yourself that day– you saved my life, too."
As they walked away from the eating area, back to the barracks to turn in for the night, Kuchel reached up to pat his cheek. "Thank you, baby. Just remember that Mama would do anything for you, and I mean it."
"Oh, I know, trust me."
In the shadows, as they made their way down the candlelit corridor, neither the mother nor the son sensed the figure lurking, listening, latching on to every precious, nearly-licentious detail pertaining to their life in the Underground City.
Who ever said harlots and delinquents belonged in the Scouting Regiment?
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I also hope that Levi showing this sort of reaction to his memory as a child didn't come across as too out of character for him. The way I see this story, he is still fairly the same as we see him in canon, except with his mother around, things are bound to be different in terms of his handling of emotions. He's still a gruff ass, but I feel like there would be rare moments where his walls crumble, whether they be unintentional, like here, or intentional.
Credit to StarlitScarlet for helping me out with the idea of Levi having this memory flashback, as well as helping me format the damn thing. My brain didn't want to work. Also she mentioned the idea of Kuchel and Erwin going on runs :^)
Song Award goes to Eren the Hyou by Hiroyuki Sawano :3