Make Her Smile Again

Levi hurried to the other room. He was sure Mikasa could hear his footsteps and tried to walk steadily, as if his heart wasn’t pounding so hard it echoed in his temples. He was irritated by the desire to go back, to touch her face again—to let happen what may—but Levi kept himself in check. Long-forgotten emotions had been a big surprise for him. He was breathing heavily and decided it was best to collect his thoughts in his own room, away from Mikasa. He didn’t feel like sleeping at all. Lying in a bed was still unfamiliar. He had grown accustomed to his chair, dozing for a couple of hours, and now he tossed and turned in the new, still wood-scented bed. Sleep wouldn’t come. Levi continued lying with his eyes closed, trying to distract himself from his thoughts, but nothing worked. His gaze involuntarily slid around the room he was now supposed to live in. In the darkness, illuminated by the dim light, the outlines of an empty wardrobe emerged, and Levi thought he should get a couple of books to brighten his evenings with something other than staring at the girl living next door. Thoughts of Mikasa refused to leave his head, and he stopped resisting. What was so bad or strange about finding her attractive? He just had never paid much attention to her before. There hadn’t been time for that. Service and battles occupied all his thoughts. But now they were spending a lot of time together, and he could no longer ignore the obvious. Besides the excellent combat qualities Levi undoubtedly valued, Mikasa also had an attractive appearance. Levi could have told himself that he’d suddenly noticed Mikasa only because she was the only girl in his immediate circle, but that would have been a lie. In the Scouts, she was far from the only one, and now many other women were near Levi. Everyone saw Captain Levi Ackerman, the hero who saved them from certain doom, and he was sure many wouldn’t mind spending an evening with him. But Levi himself had no need for that anymore. He knew that despite his height and rough character, he was respected, and that he could easily get any girl he fancied. It’s just that there was so much work, he rarely used that opportunity. And lately, it had become far too difficult. So many losses that romance was the last thing on his mind. He was tired of everything, of the war, and began to understand that, without realising it, he had been watching the young Ackerman for a long time. Of course, now he wanted to convince himself that it was just a manifestation of his captain’s duties—to watch over the squad and her included—but running through all the memories where she was so vividly imprinted, he felt he hadn’t paid that much attention to anyone else. He remembered how he took it upon himself to calm and support her, how he protected her from foolishness, although, strictly speaking, it shouldn’t have concerned him at all. Maybe he subconsciously wanted to touch her, or maybe he was just trying to preserve the life of his strongest soldier, but the result was the same—he respected and valued her so much that even now he took her under his wing, brought her into his home, and allowed her to get close. He still couldn’t fall asleep. The moon hid behind the clouds, and the room became completely dark. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but he was tired of staring at the room. Levi lay with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the surf, thinking about what to do now.

✦❘༻༺❘✦

As soon as the door closed behind the Captain, Mikasa collapsed onto the bed. The bright electric light flooded the room, and Mikasa felt like blaming the lamp for her ruined sleep, but that wasn’t the reason at all. Mikasa wondered what had happened to the Captain, why he had suddenly become so attentive to her, what had made him truly notice her, and why hadn’t she resisted at all? Her palm still burned, making her remember the touch of his calloused hand, and Mikasa sharply clicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Mikasa fell back onto the pillows, covering her hot face with her hands. Levi had been so close she could feel his breath on her face. Could her love for Eren give way to another feeling so quickly? No, that was impossible. At least, she tried to convince herself of that. Nevertheless, her crimson cheeks and breathless excitement suggested otherwise. And yet, she wasn’t ready to admit she felt something for the Captain. She was just embarrassed, that was all. Levi had called her beautiful. She had never expected compliments from him, hadn’t even thought about it. Sometimes she received dry praise when she managed to pick up something from his fighting technique, but nothing more. Levi was always extremely taciturn, and when he did speak, it was to the point, in a commanding tone, sometimes seasoning his words with a good portion of insults. Now Mikasa couldn’t even remember the last time he’d called her a gloomy brat. She pondered why the Captain had suddenly decided to care for her. Right after the battle ended, it was he who found her and stayed with her when everyone else was celebrating the victory. It was he who pulled her out of that terrible state of helplessness and utter despair, while others had already stopped trying to break through her gloom. Perhaps he felt something similar himself, only his emotions had dulled over time. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t abandoned her. Maybe he just felt sorry for her. But was pity the only reason for his kindness? Mikasa couldn’t answer that question precisely. She understood she wasn’t a complete stranger to the Captain, that they had been through a lot together, and that he genuinely wanted to support her. But people don’t invite those they merely pity into their homes. Mikasa was thoroughly embarrassed. She was grateful to Levi for the chance to start over, but too much didn’t add up. What was the Captain counting on when he bought a house for two with his own money? When he gave her the shawl? When he allowed her to tend his wounds? She had once heard stories about women in the capital who lived solely off rich men. That would be fine, but they weren’t their wives. Rumours, dirty allegations—all that swirled around those ladies, and something twinged inside her. Had Mikasa suddenly become one of them? With a heavy sigh, she turned onto her stomach, trying to cool her face against the pillow, but the fabric had already warmed up and was unpleasantly sticking to her cheeks. 'Of course not, what silly thoughts', she told herself, remembering that Levi was her Captain, a man she had easily trusted with her life, which she now just as easily gave to him again. And she had her own money. Enough to leave whenever she wished. It’s just that she didn’t want to leave. She liked not feeling so alone. She and the Captain had been through too much together; they understood each other quite well, and settling in together would be much easier. The necessity of becoming independent frightened Mikasa. She had never been alone. From early childhood until now, someone had always been nearby. It was hard for her to accept that Eren was gone, that her friends were far across the sea, and that the only person she knew was Levi. It was less dreary with him around. If not a friend, not a lover, then a reliable, albeit somewhat stern, Captain had a good influence on her, calming her and not prying unnecessarily into her soul. Mikasa felt his strength and confidence, knew he would support her when needed and that he would remain true to his word until the very end. And if he said he didn’t mind supporting her, then it wasn’t an empty sound. Mikasa suddenly thought about her money and, in a burst of impulse, wanted to write a thank-you letter to Historia, but realised she had no paper, no quill, and certainly no modern pen. With a clear shopping list for the next day, Mikasa calmed down a bit. Her thoughts switched to something completely insignificant, light. She listened—had the Captain decided to visit her again? —but the house was silent, and she quickly took off her dress, put on her underwear, and wrapped herself in a fluffy blanket, closing her eyes. She woke up surprisingly late. Accustomed to early rises, Mikasa didn’t expect to open her eyes when the sun was already high. She glanced at the clock—the hand was slowly moving towards ten. Mikasa hurried to get dressed. Captain Levi was surely already up and about, while she was lounging in bed like an impolite guest. Mikasa went downstairs, but the house was quiet. Levi had gone somewhere. On the kitchen table there were cold tea and a couple of fried eggs. Obviously for her. Levi would never leave dirty dishes, let alone food. The army had even taught her to keep the kitchen clean. Mikasa took a sip of the cold tea and grimaced—bitter. A brown trail of tea leaves ran inside the cup, and Mikasa put the porcelain aside. It would be hard to wash. But her stomach growled insistently, and, accustomed to nasty porridge, Mikasa gladly swallowed the cold breakfast, mentally thanking the Captain. A thought crossed her mind that she needed to get some groceries so as not to freeload off Levi. With this idea, she dressed more warmly, wrapping herself in her coat and shawl, and went out to the promenade.

✦❘༻༺❘✦

The shawl pleasantly warmed her shoulders, but the cold wind whistled under her coat despite the good wool trousers. It became obvious she would need to get even warmer clothes for winter. Going to the shop for the third time in such a short period was quite awkward, and Mikasa had never had to take care of her own clothes before—she was provided for by the army and never thought about what items she would need and when. Everything was supplied on a strict schedule. Now she had to manage her wardrobe herself, and if she didn’t find a couple of warm sweaters, she would definitely freeze in winter. With her being really weak now, it wouldn’t take long to get sick, and there would be no one to take care of her if she caught a cold. Finding the way to the shop from here wasn’t easy. Mikasa took a few wrong turns, realised she could easily get lost, turned back, and again came across unfamiliar buildings. By the time she finally found the shop, Mikasa was freezing. The shopkeeper already recognised her, and Mikasa felt awkward again. He behaved as if she were some fine lady from the capital, though she had neither the means nor the manners. Firmly deciding that this time she would ask about all the necessary clothing, Mikasa politely greeted him, hoping not to come here again until it was absolutely necessary. “Good day, Miss Ackerman, please sit for a moment, I’ll bring everything for you,” the shopkeeper said amiably, and Mikasa sat down near the racks, feeling her frozen hands begin to warm up, tingling unpleasantly. The shopkeeper brought a whole pile of fabric and laid it out on the counter. “Here you are, please try them on!” Mikasa immediately noticed a red dress, pleasant and warm to the touch, and her heart ached with the memory of her own scarf, which had long since faded with time, worn out, and looked quite shabby. And yet, this item was so important to her that she simply couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it. She understood it was just a piece of cloth, but she couldn’t help it. Now it just lay in the wardrobe, along with her other things, because Mikasa couldn’t even look at the scarf. Too many memories were associated with it, too much pain did its sight cause. She simply didn’t dare wear it. She had stopped wearing it back in the hospital. She couldn’t even look in its direction—tears would immediately well up in her throat, even though it seemed she had nothing left to cry with. She touched the dress again. Trousers would still be more comfortable, but something made her reach for the red color. She understood perfectly well that she really wanted to replace that bitter memory with something brighter. She hoped a new item would help. After consulting with the shopkeeper about women’s fashion, Mikasa tried on a few more items. It got quite hot, and she quickly grew tired of it. She couldn’t tell if the shopkeeper genuinely cared about her being warm in winter or if he just wanted to sell as much as possible, but she didn’t refuse the sweaters and stockings. A few new things wouldn’t hurt. Now that she was out of her army uniform, she wanted to look like an ordinary city girl. While she was at it, she picked out a home clothes so she wouldn’t have to walk around the house in the same outfit she wore on the “dirty” street, as the Captain put it. She paid and left. Now she needed to find some paper. Finding the right shop wasn’t so easy. She passed by some small shops, but they were closed. Maybe they couldn’t survive the exhausting war with other countries, or maybe the owners were no longer alive. Although the city remained intact and unharmed, Mikasa noticed echoes of the nightmare that had happened on this land. She sympathised with the residents, even though she understood that many might still consider her their enemy. It was getting colder outside, but walking warmed Mikasa up, and it wasn’t so unpleasant anymore. She enjoyed the walk, carefully examining the shops, stalls, and residential houses she passed, memorising the streets. She needed to get used to this place. Would she ever be able to call it home? Mikasa felt how much easier it was with the Captain. When they strolled along the local avenues, she didn’t even think about the route, completely relying on him, enjoying the views. She again felt that she trusted him unreasonably. The shop with a quill-shaped sign appeared before her unexpectedly. Lost in thought, she might have passed by without noticing the inconspicuous shop, but her gaze had already fixed on the window display with beautiful pens, quills, and inkwells. She was quickly helped to choose everything she needed, and, pleased, Mikasa headed home. Her attention was caught by a beautiful window display with trinkets. The kind rich people use to decorate their homes. Estimating how much it all cost, Mikasa was about to walk past, but something made her stop. She had never had such things. In her mother and father’s house, it was all unnecessary. Her mother embroidered beautifully, and her father brought feathers and animal skins from hunting. Eren’s father was against unnecessary items in the house, saying they were bad for health. Mikasa herself had never thought much about coziness. There wasn’t much room for that in the barracks. And why spend her very modest earnings on foolishness if she might not return from the battlefield tomorrow? And yet, Mikasa entered the shop. Maybe she could find something inexpensive, at least as a memento. She had enough money now, and a little extravagance probably wouldn’t hurt. Her gaze clung to every little thing. All these trinkets seemed so charming, so interesting to her that she spent a long time looking at each vase or figurine. She couldn’t believe that someone just had such beautiful things in their house, that there were real people, ordinary residents, who wanted to decorate their homes. She had grown so unaccustomed to peaceful life that she could barely understand them and her own suddenly awakened desire. She suddenly saw a beautiful, elongated vase with blue streaks. She didn’t know why she liked it so much or what she would do with it, but she absolutely wanted to put it in her room. Maybe the vase would make it cozier, and it wouldn’t be so hard to get used to a new place where there was nothing of her own. The vase turned out to be surprisingly cheap, and all doubts immediately vanished. She turned it over in her hands, already knowing she would definitely buy it, and memories flooded her mind. She, just like her mother once had, wanted to transform the place where she lived. Mikasa immediately remembered the beautiful embroideries, how her mother taught her to saw real pictures with drab threads that turned into real art in her mother’s hands. Mikasa didn’t remember well what her mother’s embroideries looked like; maybe they didn’t have the beauty she, as a little girl, saw in them, but she wanted to remember what it was like—to hold coarse fabric, a cold, thin needle in her hands again, and create little drawings that adorned the home. Mikasa hadn’t done any embroidery since her parents died. There was never time. And memories of that terrible day poisoned all the joy of embroidery. And there was no money for such nonsense. Now Mikasa understood that the pain would remain with her until she accepted it, let it go, and stopped replaying the terrible pictures in her head. It was much nicer to remember her mother’s warm hands, the tasty home-cooked food, her gentle lullabies, rather than how red her blood had been. Mikasa flinched, chasing away the unpleasant memories, took the vase wrapped in paper from the shop assistant, and left. Her hands were barely holding all the parcels with various items when she finally reached the market, having bought groceries and more convenient bags resembling fishing nets. Her hands were unpleasantly weighed down, and Mikasa hurried home. Besides, it was starting to get dark. Mikasa thought about cooking something for dinner to thank the Captain for breakfast, but her culinary skills were limited to porridge in field conditions and an equally unattractive stew made from whatever they found or caught in the forest. She rarely had to cook herself, and, having bought a cookbook, she hoped to learn. The lights were on in the house. Levi was clearly back already. She wondered what he had been doing all day? Mikasa entered the brightly lit hallway—quickly dropped the heavy bags, took off her coat, put on the slippers Levi had given her, and went to look for him. However, she didn’t have to look for long. A loud “hello” immediately came from the kitchen. Tired, Mikasa didn’t immediately notice how nice the food smelled in the house. A spasm clenched her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since morning, and the pleasant aroma made her appetite flare up. She wished she hadn’t sniffed the air, as she usually did in the barracks. It never smelled of anything appetising there; quite the opposite. Mikasa picked up the bags of food and went to the kitchen. Levi was standing at the stove in an apron, cooking something. A wonderful smell of food filled the kitchen, but Mikasa was so unprepared to see Levi cooking that she couldn’t even look at what was being prepared. She watched as he unpacked the groceries from the bag, examined the vegetables she had bought, nodded as if agreeing with himself, and arranged the food on the shelves. “Good products you got, thank you,” he said and stopped mid-sentence, bumping into the book. “What’s this for?” Mikasa was embarrassed. How could she admit now that she couldn’t cook at all, when the Captain was cooking at the stove? He kept looking at her, and she had to answer. “I wanted to try making something for dinner.” “From a book?” “From a book.” Levi smirked, and Mikasa frowned. He had no right to laugh at her! When was she supposed to learn, if all her free time was taken up by training and the struggle for survival? “What’s so funny?” Levi looked closely at Mikasa, her slightly flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, that familiar I-can’t-stand-you look, and barely held back a smile. “You could have just said you don’t know how.” That seemed to anger her even more, because she fixed her huge grey eyes directly on his face. Of course. She was probably ashamed to admit it. She wasn’t just any girl; she was Mikasa Ackerman herself. Mikasa, who could do anything, for whom the word “impossible” didn’t exist, who grasped everything on the fly, a talented Scout. And a completely useless homemaker. “I don’t know how, so what?” she muttered, much quieter. She had admitted it after all. Levi noisily put the book on the table, pushing it back towards Mikasa. “Nothing. I’ll teach you, if you’re interested. Better than some book.” Mikasa was stunned. Levi immediately turned back to the kitchen cabinets, returning to his own tasks, clearly indicating the conversation was over. Mikasa blinked. Had she heard correctly? The Captain was going to teach her something? They sat in complete silence for another minute until Levi tossed over his shoulder: “Well, stop sitting there, wash your hands, change, and come down here, it’ll be ready soon.” Mikasa nodded, even though Levi couldn’t see her, and, picking up the remaining parcels with clothes from the entrance, went upstairs. She washed her hands, arranged the new clothes on the shelves—the wardrobe had noticeably more items now—and quickly changed into a home shirt and trousers. It was even strange to wear something in the house that was different from the Scouts' uniform. Mikasa looked around, placed the new vase on the empty dresser, turned it, admiring it, and, after a moment’s thought, took off her home clothes. She had lied in the shop. Lied to herself to prolong the pleasure of a free, unburdened life just a little more. Even with the huge weight on her soul, for just one moment she had felt genuine joy when the shopkeeper brought out an incredibly beautiful silk dress. Mikasa never thought such nonsense could interest her, but the multicoloured pattern wouldn’t let her look away. Mikasa draped the flowing, dense fabric over her shoulders, awkwardly tying the inconvenient belt. She admired herself in the mirror for a moment and immediately stepped back. How foolish she was being. Buying expensive, completely unnecessary and useless things, even understanding they wouldn’t help heal her deep wounds. But how pleasant it was to deceive herself! Mikasa approached the mirror again, examining the long sleeves. This dress was made in her homeland—Hizuru. Even though she had never felt drawn there, never felt any connection to that place, looking at herself in the mirror, examining the clothing so reminiscent of what Kiyomi Azumabito wore, she involuntarily felt a longing for the life she had missed, for possible happiness. What would have happened if she had listened and left with that woman with the same strange eyes as her own? Would Mikasa feel she belonged now? The red dress, embroidered with white flowers, golden threads, and silver cranes, fit her as if tailored just for her. As if such outfits were what she was meant to wear, but Mikasa, barely managing to untangle the inconvenient belt, took off the fabric and carefully hung it back in the wardrobe. She definitely shouldn’t wear something like that around the house. Too flashy. The Captain wouldn’t understand if she came down to dinner in such an outfit. She sat at the table in her new home clothes, looking at something incredibly aromatic. Her mind held no other thought besides the desire to quickly taste what the Captain had cooked. It smelled wonderful. “No discipline, it’s almost cold already,” the Captain declared, scraping his chair back. Quickly dishing out portions onto plates, Levi handed one plate to Mikasa. It was unclear if he was joking or not. His tone, as always, was displeased. But, glancing at the clock, Mikasa realised she had only taken about fifteen minutes and decided not to think about it. Everything was already mixed up in her head anyway. It was strange that he hadn’t eaten without her. Since when did the Captain wait for soldiers to eat? Mikasa checked herself, reminding herself that he was no longer her Captain, and she was no longer his subordinate Scout; everything was different now. They were sitting in a beautiful kitchen filled with pleasant aromas, at a table covered with a clean white tablecloth. Before her were beautiful plates and a teacup. On the plate—fried fish and rice. It all seemed so simple and familiar, yet completely foreign and unexplored. Rice often stuck in her throat—they had to eat so much of it—and fish was the only thing that made up for the lack of meat, but the fact that Captain Levi had cooked it made her smile. In the army, it would have resembled a mush of food scraps rather than a real dinner. “I never would have thought the Captain could cook.” The silence was unbearable, but no other words came to mind. She hadn’t eaten for many hours, and now the food aromas only fuelled her appetite. Levi gave her a strange look, and Mikasa realised she had said something wrong instead of thanking him. “I mean, of course you can, and… well, thank you for breakfast.” She started chattering, feeling her face flush with burning color again. And why did she always have to blush around the Captain? Levi set his utensils aside, and Mikasa prepared for a lecture, but his voice sounded soft, calming, as if he were explaining the simplest thing to a child. “You’re welcome. Cooking turns off the thoughts.” He paused for a moment, picking up his utensils again, but noticed Mikasa was sitting, staring down at her plate, not even touching the food. “Eat already. Cold food definitely won’t taste good.” Mikasa lifted her head, nodded as if receiving permission, and quickly stuffed a couple of pieces of fish into her mouth. Delicious. Even by looks, it was clear it would taste much better than army stew, but whether Mikasa was really very hungry or the Captain actually cooked more than decently… Levi, noticing her reaction, just smirked, sipping his tea. “Where did you learn?” Mikasa finally pulled herself together, but the question escaped faster than she could think whether she could even ask him about personal matters. After all, they still remained distant people. Just neighbours. She couldn’t wrap her head around how the Captain, who had devoted his life to serving humanity, war, and killing titans, could cook so well. He himself had said he never had time. “Even before joining the Scout Regiment. I cooked for myself since childhood, and I wanted at least the food to bring pleasure.” Mikasa nodded, feeling she was approaching some boundary, to questions she would never dare ask Captain Levi. But a neighbour could ask. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? “What did you do before you became Captain?” Theories, one crazier than the other, swarmed in her head. The Scouts had placed their pitiful coins on guesses, but no one knew for sure. And now she had the opportunity to really talk to the Captain, perhaps learn something he would never tell a subordinate. But Levi reacted not at all as Mikasa expected. He looked sharply at her with his ice-chip eyes, reprimanding her, making Mikasa regret her question. He clearly didn’t like it. He noisily put his cup on the table and leaned back in his chair, as if collecting his thoughts. Mikasa was about to apologise for her indiscreet question, but Levi spoke: “I’m afraid what I say won’t please you.” Levi studied her, trying to understand if she was genuinely interested or just trying to break the silence with questions. It was noticeable how she lowered her gaze, finishing the remains of her dinner, as if ashamed of having asked, and Levi thought. They were going to live together; why not tell her? Mikasa quickly finished her dinner, silently got up from the table, quietly thanking him for the food, dumped the dishes in the sink, and turned on the water. The noise broke the oppressive silence. She realised she had asked something that stirred unpleasant memories and didn’t insist on the Captain opening up to her, feeling ashamed of her curiosity. What a fool. The Captain could tell her everything she needed to know himself. Asking unnecessary questions definitely wasn’t worth it. “Alright, there’s no point in hiding it anymore…” the Captain began, and Mikasa turned at his quiet voice. It was obvious this decision wasn’t easy for him. “Finish the dishes and let’s go sit on the sofa. I’ll make tea.” She nodded, allowing Levi to come very close to her to pour water into the kettle. Mikasa collected the remaining dishes from the table, put away the food, washed the plates, dried them with a towel, and put them on the shelves. Levi’s words intrigued her, and she hurried to finish the cleaning, watching as the Captain carried two porcelain cups into the living room. Mikasa hurried after him. Levi had already placed the cups on a small table and pulled the switch on the floor lamp. The room was flooded with a soft yellowish light; it was cozy by the sofa, the remnants of logs crackled in the fireplace, and Mikasa sat on the sofa—at the other end from the Captain. “Sorry if I asked something unpleasant for you to talk about, I can’t insist,” Mikasa whispered. Even though she was really very interested, she knew what it was like to pick at soul wounds. Levi shook his head, drinking from his cup. “No, it’s fine. I just never thought I’d have to talk about it someday.” Mikasa tensed up. Tucking her legs under herself, she picked up the hot cup, unable to take a sip. She put it back, fidgeted. Levi was silent again, as if gathering his thoughts. Finally, he spoke: “I was born in the Underground City. You probably don’t even know what that is. It’s carefully hidden. All the dregs of society live there. Criminals, slave traders, prostitutes, and such lucky ones who had the misfortune to be born there, like me. My mother was a prostitute. I don’t know what led her to the brothel, I don’t know who my father was. I didn’t have time to learn anything; she died when I was very young. Some illness. I would have starved to death if Kenny hadn’t found me.” Mikasa flinched. That name was familiar to her. Levi had told them that Kenny, who had slaughtered their comrades, was his uncle. But she was hearing about everything else for the first time. Levi had had a hard childhood too. Her heart constricted at his words; Mikasa knew well what it was like to lose a mother as a child. “Kenny taught me to survive. I only knew his name, and that I could get food and shelter from him. But as soon as I grew up a bit, learned to get food on my own, Kenny disappeared. He just didn’t come back one day, and I, knowing the laws of the underground city, decided someone had killed him in an alley. I robbed and killed to live, and back then I didn’t even think it was bad. In the Underground City, there was only one law—you or them. I understand I survived only thanks to my strength.” Levi looked carefully at Mikasa, as if expecting her to say something. But there were no words. It was hard even to imagine what he had been through. When she lost everything—she had Armin and Eren; she wasn’t alone. Levi could only rely on himself. “I carried these skills through my whole life. And I held the blades the same way I once held a knife. It was always damp, dirty, the air stank. They didn’t let any of us see sunlight; many died from some illness that didn’t affect people on the surface. Since then, I suppose, I’ve loved cleanliness, even if you all laughed at it.” “We didn’t…” Mikasa tried to object, but Levi just smirked and waved his hand. “You think I really didn’t hear you calling me a neat-freak?” Mikasa shrank into the back of the sofa, embarrassed. She knew, of course, but back then she didn’t care if it pleased the Captain or not. She wanted him to feel unpleasant. But that time was long gone. Now Mikasa understood how foolish she had been. “And you were alone all that time?” she asked, to change the subject quickly. “When I got older, I had friends.” Levi paused for a second. He hadn’t shared these memories with anyone. Even Erwin and Hange didn’t know much. He just didn’t see the need to talk about it. And Mikasa probably wasn’t very interested either. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this; you already got the answer to your question,” Levi said, getting up from the sofa. “Wait, tell me more!” She suddenly leaned forward as if to stop him but didn’t reach out her hand, leaning back again. “It’s not interesting.” “That’s not true.” Levi fixed his gaze on Mikasa, trying to figure out if she really wanted to hear about his life. He gave in quickly. Sat back on the sofa, sighing heavily. Not used to talking about himself. “What else do you want to know?” Mikasa thought for a moment. Maybe she wouldn’t get another chance to ask a question, maybe the Captain wouldn’t be in the mood to talk about his life another time. She didn’t even know what to ask and blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “How did you end up in the Scouts?” Levi tensed but nodded. “We had a small gang. Me, Farlan, and Isabel. I don’t remember how, but we got our hands on ODM gear, learned to use it, made a living by robbery. Nobody bothered us much. Despite us being so young, people were afraid of us and didn’t interfere unnecessarily. Until one day Erwin’s squad attacked us. He wanted to recruit us for work in the Scouts. We let ourselves be caught. But that was part of the plan. A rich man had made a deal with us. In exchange for work—a comfortable life on the surface. We quickly agreed, not thinking about the consequences, about how a gang of such brats couldn’t handle such a difficult task.” “A difficult task? What part of the plan?” Mikasa looked at the Captain with interest, already imagining what things he might tell. She felt there was some very unpleasant story connected with the Scouts. “We were supposed to kill Erwin Smith.” Mikasa’s eyes widened in surprise. It had always seemed to her that there was a special bond between the Captain and the Commander. They were such good friends, it was visible. “Someone had told them about us and our skills in advance. We knew where the ambush would be and skilfully pretended we were caught by accident, that we were trying to hide. Erwin personally offered us to join the Scouts, promising not to turn us over to the police. We, of course, agreed. That’s exactly what we were waiting for. We didn’t want to become close with anyone. We kept our distance, because we weren’t planning to stay in the Scouts. A free life on the surface awaited us—all we needed. Apparently, that was our mistake. Erwin knew everything from the very beginning. About the plan, and that we were going to kill him. On the very first expedition outside the walls, Farlan and Isabel were torn apart by a titan.” Levi fell silent. Telling this was hard. He had never shared this. Erwin already knew; the others didn’t need to know. He thought he had long since let them go, but the pain inside still gnawed at him. Levi felt guilty. He should have gone outside the walls alone. He knew his friends couldn’t handle it—both too weak and overconfident. But he didn’t insist, let them die. How interesting life had turned out. Erwin was dead. The goal achieved. Levi was free. Only he no longer wanted that freedom. Erwin’s death brought no peace. Levi felt a light touch on his shoulder. Apparently, he had been silent too long. He sighed heavily. Mikasa looked at him sympathetically, said nothing. But that light touch gave him the strength to finish his bitter story. “In that moment, I wanted to kill him right there, on the same spot. But I couldn’t. He offered me to stay in the Scouts. I had no choice. I could have gone straight to prison from there. Honestly, at that moment, I didn’t care what happened to me. I had nowhere to return. Everything I did, I did for them—Farlan and Isabel. I remember looking at his calm face, quietly hating him and understanding I had only one path.” Levi fell silent again, drinking the now quite cold tea. He grimaced at the bitterness spreading over his tongue. “Just don’t think I’m such a sentimental idiot. We were family…” “I wouldn’t think that,” Mikasa sharply interrupted him before he could say any more completely foolish things about himself. This amazing story had touched her deeply. To think what Levi had been through. Mikasa sincerely sympathised with him. At least she had had a childhood. Nine of the brightest years of her life. Even if she remembered very little, it had been hers, and no one could take that away. Levi didn’t even have that. He sat silently, as if waiting for her reaction, and Mikasa didn’t know what to do now. Could she comfort him, show him he wasn’t completely alone? Did the Captain need that, could he accept support from her? The Captain had sacrificed everything to live on the surface, to get what belonged to her simply because she was born up there. Levi was just unlucky. The more she thought about it, the heavier her heart felt. Her own feelings mixed with Levi’s story. She had also lost her family, and the picture vividly rose before her eyes. She also couldn’t do anything, and she felt like she would cry again. She was moved. With trembling hands, she reached for his cup. Levi looked at her in bewilderment but unclenched his fingers, and Mikasa put it on the table. Levi hadn’t expected her to hug him. So softly and carefully. He had expected his story to frighten her, anger her, make her reconsider living under the same roof, but none of that happened. She whispered quietly to him that she was sorry, that no one deserved such a thing, that she couldn’t have imagined his childhood was little different from what they had gone through together. She sounded so soothing that Levi quickly relaxed. Mikasa was barely holding back tears. Her own losses tormented her, and Levi’s story only made her more agitated. Feeling her warmth against him was pleasant, and Levi gave in, hugging her back, holding her tightly. He buried his face in her hair, smelling the faint scent of soap. Emotions washed over him completely. Levi furrowed his brows to keep himself in check. The pain of the flooding memories, the joy of support, the elegant curve of her back under his palm—it all blended into one overwhelming feeling of gratitude that Mikasa was here with him. He hadn’t expected her to understand, but she did. “I’m not ashamed of my past, but I’m not proud of it either. No one but Erwin knew who I really was. If they’d found out, I’d have been rotting in jail long ago. I’m not a good person, Mikasa. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you all this.” Levi ran his palm over her back one more time, to feel that Mikasa was still here, and then released her. She sat up and moved away, looking at him with moist eyes. She had cried after all. “No, on the contrary. I’m glad I got to know a little more about you.” Mikasa wiped a tear rolling down her cheek, forcing herself to calm down, not to let the entire flood of tears brewing inside burst out. “And it’s time to change the bandages,” Mikasa said, getting up from the sofa. She urgently needed to do something to keep from crying. Even though yesterday’s events still felt awkward, she felt the Captain wouldn’t do anything to harm her. She understood that now more clearly than ever. If he had wanted to, he would have done it long ago. He had been a criminal after all…

✦❘༻༺❘✦

They were sitting in his half-empty room, and Mikasa was finishing with the bandages. Levi was looking pensively right through her, paying little attention to what Mikasa was doing. She looked at him, wanting to lighten the mood a little after the heavy conversation. Maybe she could awaken some pleasant memories in him? “Can I ask you one more question?” Levi nodded. “Do you remember your mother well?” The Captain was silent for a moment. “I was just a child when she died, but I do have a few memories of her. How she cared for me when I was sick, how she cut my hair. I suppose she loved me.” For a moment, Mikasa thought she saw the shadow of a smile on the Captain’s lips, or maybe it was just the way the lamp light fell on his face. Still, Mikasa felt the Captain wasn’t as grim as he had been a few minutes ago. “I was very young too when my parents died. Slave traders killed my father and wanted to sell me and my mother, but she threw herself at them to protect me. I still remember her blood spraying. She screamed for me to run, but I was so scared I couldn’t do anything. I just stood there and watched her eyes glaze over.” Levi touched her palm, as if trying to offer support, and Mikasa accepted this small gesture. That moment still haunted her in nightmares. If only her strength had awakened earlier. Everything would be different now. Maybe she would have been happy. Maybe if she had been taught how to love, she could have confessed, could have made Eren understand what she felt, and then none of this would have happened? “They took me, but I was lucky. That day, Eren’s father was supposed to come with him to check on my mom; she was pregnant,” Mikasa explained with a heavy sigh. She could have had a brother or sister. But there was no point thinking about the past now. “Eren’s father saw my dead parents and sent Eren home while he went for help. But you know what he was like.” Mikasa smiled at her own bitter thoughts. Of course, Eren couldn’t just leave. Even as a small child, he already chose the most difficult and dangerous path. “Eren found me. I don’t know how, by what miracle, but he managed to kill them. His family took me in.” “So that’s why you were so stuck to him,” Levi smirked. “Partly because of that,” Mikasa muttered, immediately blushing. It was awkward to talk about all this. She felt as if she was still scared, and the memories were too heavy. “He became my family. Like your friends were for you.” Mikasa turned away so Levi wouldn’t see the expression on her face, but he didn’t need to see her to understand everything. She could lie all she wanted about family, but even if it was partly true, Levi saw—she felt something much deeper than a sister’s love for a brother. But he didn’t try to fish the truth out of her. He didn’t like her unhealthy attachment, but he had no intention of prying into Mikasa’s personal life. There was no point in picking at her feelings; it was hard enough for her as it was. But if she wanted to talk about the past, then why not. He wanted to learn more about her, even if it meant telling a little about himself in return. “Alright, don’t sulk, I can tell you a bit more about my childhood.” Levi patted the other side of the bed, and Mikasa looked at the Captain incredulously. Was he inviting her into his bed? “Well? Get in. Or are you going to sit on the floor?” the Captain asked, patting the snow-white sheet again. Mikasa hesitated for only a second and then climbed in next to him. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being near the Captain. It wasn’t the first time. It was just still unusual to be alone with him. Mikasa tucked her legs under herself and leaned back against the pillow behind her. Levi turned off the bright light and began telling her whatever came to mind. Mikasa answered him sleepily, asked questions, and talked about her own adventures. She told him what Armin and Eren were like, little things Levi hadn’t even suspected. The conversation was relaxing. It felt so calm and good. All the horrors of their past life were left behind. Everything was supposed to change now. Levi wasn’t used to hoping for the best, but he had a premonition that now everything would be alright. Levi was slowly talking about some ordinary things when he noticed the room had become suspiciously quiet. He turned his head and smiled. Mikasa had fallen asleep, curled up beside him. He thought about waking her, scolding her for finding his stories so boring, but for some reason, he didn’t. It was one of the first calm days. He didn’t want to disturb her. Levi was used to sleeping half-sitting, without pillows or blankets. He made himself comfortable and threw the blanket over Mikasa. Thin moonlight seeped through the uncurtained window, illuminating Mikasa’s face. Levi could make out every small detail, the trembling eyelashes and full lips, the cute little nose and the tangled strand of hair fallen across her face. He saw Mikasa as if for the first time. He thought he wouldn’t find anything new in her familiar features, but he was wrong. Levi had looked at her before, unintentionally, unconsciously. Sometimes his gaze would just stop on her, slowly slide past—towards hundreds of other faces. But now it felt different. Mikasa frowned in her sleep, curled up tighter, before finally relaxing. Maybe she was dreaming something. In the moonlight, his gaze caught a small scar on her cheek. He had often noticed it but never thought to ask where it came from. As if they didn’t have enough scars on their bodies. But he wanted to ask about this one. Levi stretched out on the bed, looking at the ceiling. He was sure he’d have to lie like that for the rest of the night, that he wouldn’t sleep. But his eyelids grew heavy, and he sank into a pleasant darkness. He only woke when bright light hit his eyes. Levi stirred, trying to hide from the sun’s rays, when he felt someone gazing upon him.