The Shatters of Black Stars

      Mikasa returned home and collapsed onto the couch, burying her hand in her hair, still damp from running.       And now what?       Levi had led her out of the labyrinth of backstreets to a more familiar part of town, where they had parted ways. He had even made it look like he expected nothing more from her. How generous of him. But Mikasa understood perfectly well: any help from a man like him always came with a price—and how she hated the thought of owing him anything.       What amazed her most was how calmly Levi strolled through the city as if he hadn’t just been one breath away from getting riddled with bullets while saving her from the Military Police—as if nothing could ever touch him. And the worst part was: he was right.       She had grown tired of this endless cat-and-mouse game with the military. Mikasa had long stopped believing the promises shouted from the generals’ grand podiums. Honour, protection, virtue—empty words. She still remembered how easily they had been ready to kill Eren. She had seen the drawing, the article in the paper. She had trembled, eyes darting through the lines, praying not to see the worst: Eren got killed.       He had only been fifteen. Just a boy about to graduate from the cadet corps. And these cowards had pointed their cannons at him, afraid of a child.       Her hatred for the Military Police burned even hotter now—not just for their cowardice, but for how little they had cared about her life. They would’ve gunned her down in that bar just to get to Ackerman.       That she could still understand—her life meant nothing next to the opportunity to capture a mafia legend. But that they hunted her while letting him walk free? That, she could not forgive.       They had let them go far too easily.       The police could have kept chasing. Surely someone more ambitious could have stepped up. But no—they backed off. Cowards. Or perhaps they’d simply let them go while pretending to keep up the chase. It was hard to tell.       Mikasa relaxed on the couch, hoping this would be the last of such adventures.       But Levi refused to leave her mind.       Whoever he was, there was something about him that wouldn’t let go. His deep, striking blue eyes had rooted themselves in her thoughts. No—not even his eyes, but the way he had looked at her.       The very memory made her heart race.       Mikasa exhaled sharply. Ridiculous. She loved another man. And he should be home by now—even if he was angry at her.       Eren could be sharp and quick-tempered, but he was still dear to her. She understood why he was like that. His burdens were heavy. He fought so she could live safely in the capital—and for that alone, she owed him her forgiveness.       How many times had Mikasa already swallowed her pride? This wouldn’t be an exception.       No sooner had she thought it than she heard his footsteps on the stairs. She rose from the couch.       "Finally back?" His voice rang out, sharp and irritated—and any desire to apologise vanished.       Why couldn’t Eren soften when she needed it the most?       Mikasa rubbed the bridge of her nose, careful not to touch her still-reddened eyes, then turned sharply to face him, ready to let him say whatever he wanted and ruin her mood completely.       Their eyes met briefly. In Eren’s green irises swirled annoyance—but his face softened.       "You’ve been crying?" He stepped toward her so quickly she didn’t even have time to respond.       He cupped her face gently, forcing her to look at him. Mikasa instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm—yet careful. She could’ve broken free easily, if she wanted.       Her cheeks flushed instantly under his gaze, all anger dissolving into shame. She lowered her eyes. Eren was too close.       Without a word, she stepped forward and finally did what she’d wanted all morning—she hugged him.       The familiar slope of his shoulders, the broad muscles beneath the rough linen of his shirt, the scent of apples and home—everything so known, so rooted deep inside her since childhood.       She breathed in deeply to keep from breaking down again. She was the one who had made him worry—she deserved his anger.       His hands moved across her back, slipping lower to her waist, and a small shiver ran through her. She wished his hands would drop lower still, that he would give some signal she could hope for something more—but as always, his body language remained silent.       Mikasa pressed her face into his shirt. At least this way, she could feel his warmth. She was home, safe again, and the worst was over.       "I’m sorry," she whispered into his shoulder, her voice muffled by his warmth.       "And I’m sorry too."       She relaxed into his embrace, letting her tears finally fall without shame.       "I’m scared for you," she whispered, feeling his hands gently stroke her back.       "You have to trust me. I’ll come back."       "You can’t promise that."       "I can."       She bit her tongue. The same argument—always the same. They never led anywhere. He would leave, and she would remain, waiting and believing.       He pulled back, and Mikasa wiped her tears with the back of her hand.       "I have to fight so we can live in a better world. We’re so close to figuring out how to create more like me. Once we have the serum, everything will change."       Mikasa frowned again. She understood—she always did. Eren often spoke to her about the army and his work. It was the only way she could feel, even briefly, included in the part of his life forever closed to her. That brought her some comfort.       The serum was a cure for death. A substance that could make more like him—strong, invincible creatures. All for humanity’s salvation. Mikasa could admire the Scouts' courage, but she couldn’t feel it in herself. Weeks of silence from Eren were unbearable. She longed to scream, to tell him she didn’t care about the serum, the Scouts, or humanity. But she couldn’t.       If it mattered to him, she had to trust his choice.       She stepped forward again, clinging to him tighter, trying to memorise every detail of this moment, knowing she would need these memories to carry her through the next absence.       "I understand," Mikasa mumbled—but her voice betrayed her showing disappointment. She felt like a spoiled child but couldn’t accept this reality. Each time she let him go, it felt like another piece of her was torn away.       "I can’t walk away now that we’re so close, Mikasa," Eren whispered, stroking her hair, pulling her head to his chest. And Mikasa tried to accept what she couldn’t change, knowing she would once again have to let him go and pretend everything was fine.       "So where were you?" he finally asked.       The question sent a shiver through her.       She hadn’t thought of what to say. She couldn’t possibly tell him she’d been running from the MP alongside one of the most wanted criminals.       It would be better to tell him everything. If she confessed, it would all be over. Eren, though he never showed it outright, cared about her deeply. He wouldn’t abandon her—she knew that. Even if he called her a fool, he would help.       But would it jeopardise his work? The last thing she wanted was to create conflict between the Scouts and the Military Police—their relationship was strained enough already.       That wasn’t the only reason Mikasa chose silence.       She didn’t want to speak of Levi. There was something oddly pleasant about the feeling that stirred when he was close. A new and unfamiliar sensation she wasn’t ready to kill off. Levi would remain her little secret.       If the police questioned her, she would find a way out. She could lie—say she feared for her life, that Ackerman had threatened her with a gun, and that she had fled the police out of fear.       Her heart skipped a beat.       No—that wouldn’t work anymore. They’d seen him help her escape. She couldn’t deny any involvement, even if it was true.       Mikasa could hope for help from the influential guests who frequented her performances, but she feared what such favours might cost her.       Her head began to throb again. She let out a breath.       Whatever happens, happens. All she wanted now was to spend this moment with Eren. "Just went for a run. Needed to clear my head," she lied.       She slipped from his arms, awkwardly smoothing down her messy hair.       "I need a shower. And there’s nothing left at home. Will you come with me to the market?" she asked.       Eren nodded softly in reply.

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      "Are you serious?"       Levi coughed, setting his glass down on the counter with a sharp clink. Beer sloshed onto his hand, and he shook it off, flinging the droplets away as he tried to clear his throat.       Erd laughed, slapping him on the shoulder.       "Let it go, man. Why are you so hung up on her? You want me to find you a girl for the night?"       "I don’t need a girl," Levi muttered.              "Your loss. You know I’ve got plenty of sweet ones lined up."       Levi pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. The smoke drifted lazily through the damp, stagnant air—unchanging, like life in this godforsaken hole.       Was Mikasa worth the trouble? Probably not. In the end, she was just another woman. He'd think about her for a while, then forget—especially with that damn serum still hanging over his head.       Levi rarely, very rarely, let his desires lead him. As a child—small, weaker than the other boys his age—he had learned to keep low, invisible. Slip into crowds, snatch whatever would get him through the day, and crouch by some wall, chewing on mouldy bread.       He only started using his strength when he realised even grown men couldn’t handle him. Kenny had taught him early on: don’t fear a fight if your life’s at stake. And in the Underground, survival often came down to carving yourself out a few more hours.       Levi never picked fights needlessly. He preferred to stay unnoticed—until Kenny told him that if you live like a rat, you’ll die a rat. Levi still remembered how furious those words had made him. After that, he stopped hiding in the shadows.       And he wasn’t going to hide now.       Sure, it was insane to poke at the hive of high-ranking officials. One slip, one careless mistake—and he’d rot in some cell. But was Levi the kind to back down from risk or difficulty? He was capable of things others couldn’t even imagine. And even that felt like an understatement.       If he wanted something—he took it. No matter the cost.       Erd was right. It would be easier to forget her. Some heights weren’t worth reaching.       But Mikasa wouldn’t let go of him. He had never needed to chase after a woman before—and now the thrill was starting to take hold. Finally, something to stir up his dull days. A woman like her… he wanted to win her.       Levi inhaled deeply, letting the bitter smoke fill his lungs. Her eyes, her gestures, her voice—everything about Mikasa caught at him. It was impossible to push her out of his head. And it was unlikely he’d stop thinking about her so easily.       He needed to try her, just once, to prove to himself she was no different from any other woman. One evening, one night—and he’d finally shake these thoughts loose.       He should have been focusing on more important things. But even now, Levi lied to himself, easily surrendering to the images that played in his mind, breaking his own rules.       She’s worth it. And Levi always found a way to come out clean. He needed information. Information was often worth more than money. A woman could easily be won over with trinkets and attention—let Erd do the digging and tell him what he found.       "Where’s the ticket?" Levi cut him off sharply, stopping the endless list of pretty girls Erd kept rambling about.       His disapproving stare stirred a faint flicker of guilt in Levi—but he had already made up his mind. He wasn’t backing off.       Erd sighed heavily. His hand slid into his pocket, and an elegant piece of paper landed on the counter. Expensive. An unfamiliar name written in graceful lettering. Someone had managed to steal someone else’s invitation.       "You’re a fucking idiot," Erd said flatly, handing the ticket to Levi.       "I know."

⸻・⸻ ♤ ⸻・⸻

      Kenny looked even worse than he had that morning. Dark shadows sank under his eyes, his whole frame slumped and hollowed out. The meeting with the higher-ups clearly hadn’t left him untouched.       Was this serum really worth so much?       "And how many more lives are we going to throw away for this damn serum?"       "As many as it takes."       Kenny's voice was firm. His weathered face, etched with deep lines, looked almost sickly in the dim light. For the first time, Levi wondered just how old Kenny was now. He still held his ground, but for how much longer?       He wasn’t even really looking at Levi anymore—his eyes were lost somewhere far beyond him, sunk into private thoughts he wasn’t about to share.       Levi exhaled heavily, leaning back in his chair. Kenny paced the room, his uneven gait betraying a thin layer of irritation beneath his calm.       Neither of them spoke. Levi sat silently, stewing over how stupid this whole situation had become. If it hadn’t been for all the dead weight getting in his way, they would’ve had the serum already.       Tracking it down again wouldn’t be easy. Levi had no idea how long the mafia had been sniffing around for information, but it definitely wasn’t something you pulled off overnight. By the time they found the trail again, Levi would need to be fully prepared. And frankly, he wasn’t looking forward to it.       "Kenny," Levi finally said, "why are you so worked up over this thing?"       Kenny shot him another one of his heavy, annoyed looks—but Levi didn’t flinch under the silence.       "Do you have any idea how much it’ll fetch on the black market?"       Levi could tell something didn’t add up. Money was always a priority in their business. But never once had Kenny been so willing to die chasing a payout.       "I get it," Levi said dryly. "We’ll be rich enough to afford a couple gold coins in our graves."       Weren’t there plenty of other treasures far easier to get their hands on? Of course there were. Levi could name a few right off the top of his head. But for this serum—even the usually gutless Military Police were willing to risk their lives.       Kenny stayed silent. His brooding annoyed Levi. In his eyes, no prize was worth throwing your life away for. But Kenny clearly didn’t see it that way.       "This whole thing’s bullshit," Levi finally snapped. He shot up from the chair, pacing quickly to catch up to Kenny.       "Have you completely lost your mind? Why the hell is some damn injection worth this much?"       For a moment, Kenny hesitated, as if weighing whether or not to share the truth. His lips twitched, but instead of speaking, he simply licked them, pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit up. He clearly had something to say—but wasn’t ready to say it.       "You’re holding something back," Levi pressed. "Spit it out. And don’t give me that ‘just follow orders’ crap." Kenny clicked his tongue but smiled faintly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He shook his head.       "Sharp little bastard," he muttered, pulling the half-burned cigarette from his lips. Taking off his hat, he walked slowly back to the chair and let himself drop into it with a creak.       "I mean, I don’t know all the details…" Kenny began.       "Spare me the stories. Just get to the point." Levi shot him a sharp glare. Frustration simmered inside him. He wanted to get back home and figure out how he was going to approach Mikasa—not sit here weighing the odds of failure or success.       Kenny nodded.       "Alright." He flicked the stub of his cigarette into the metal bin. Sparks danced along the bottom for a moment before dying out. Levi watched him settle back into the chair, patience wearing thin. He caught himself realising he used to be more composed than this.       "The serum’s some kind of government experiment," Kenny finally said. "Word is—it grants immortality."       Levi listened, barely able to believe his ears. Was the old man serious? Immortality? People actually believed that crap? But Kenny kept going, and Levi had no choice but to hear him out—he had asked for the truth.       "They say one shot cures everything. No illness, no wounds. Slice you open? Heals like a dog. Lose a leg? It'll grow back. People would pay insane money for something like that." Levi’s brows crept upward. It sounded insane.       "Alright, even if I pretend I believe you," Levi said coolly, "why not just keep the miracle drug for yourself? Why sell it?"       "It’s all bullshit," Kenny admitted. "If it were real, someone would’ve pocketed it already. But something about this stinks. And the sooner we get rid of it, the better."       Kenny confirmed what Levi had suspected all along. Of course, there were no miracles. Only the rich believed in fairytales—used to buying everything they wanted.       Levi glanced at his uncle again. His stare softened, turning slightly distant. In the dim light, Kenny looked worn down—like a man barely holding on. As if sensing Levi’s thoughts, Kenny added:       "I’m getting old, kid. I’m tired of living like a dog. I want to sit somewhere quiet by a lake and let these old bones finally rest. I’m sick of breathing mold down here."       Levi wouldn’t mind getting out himself—but for what? He wasn’t even sure he’d outlive Kenny. Still, the possibility hung ahead of him like a faint light.       Where once Levi had needed very little, now—knowing who Mikasa really was—he understood he’d have to make real money if he wanted any chance. No matter how stubborn she might be, money softened everything. A nobody like him didn’t have many other options.       "You gonna help us, Levi?"       Kenny’s eyes locked on him, worn and tired, but expectant. And when had Levi grown so sentimental?       "Suppose I am. What’s the plan?"       Kenny’s face lit up. His eyes glinted with a familiar spark of excitement.       "First thing is to find out whose pocket the serum’s landed in. It’s probably not with the Military Police anymore. Which means—" Kenny paused, the old smirk returning to his face, "—we’ve got some real competition."