Phillyitalian
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I thought he only wanted to do this after Issei's encounter from the goddess from another world aka The Oppai goddess.
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On The Bench (AOT/DxD)
- Thread starter ReadingDangerously
- Start date
I thought he only wanted to do this after Issei's encounter from the goddess from another world aka The Oppai goddess.
Speedshot
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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As someone who has only experienced dxd through fanfic, this chapter was a bit harder to follow than the others. Nonetheless, it was an amazing piece, and Rias pov is super entertaining. I might not understand all the context behind everything, but I could paint a very vivid image in my head of what this whole thing looked and sounded like. Hats off to you.
Nalekuuzensha
A Very Committed Lurker
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Ooo, I wonder whose tone that resembles, Mikasa?
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ReadingDangerously
I'm quite boring. Really... Stop laughing.
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"Why?"
Eren stirred from his nap, his head leaving Kuroka's shoulder to sit up straight on the bench. He had been awake for a few minutes, just laying there lazily. Otherwise, she would have let him rest longer.
With summer drawing to a close soon, and with it the return of the Shirone's Peerage, Kuroka could no longer delay the question. One that she thought could go without asking but continued to torment her as the days passed.
"Why what?"
"Why'd you leave, nyaa?"
"... I told you. I found this bench when I checked on Shirone."
"I don't mean why did you stay here, nyaa," Kuroka clarified, hand running through his long hair. "I understand that your powers... I understand wanting some peace. But why did you not tell us where you were?"
Why hadn't he told her?
Throughout the entire summer, Kuroka had repeatedly asked herself the question.
Early on, when he had first disappeared, she had entertained the possibility that Eren had decided to betray both the Brigade and her, abandoning them as his 'death' drew closer. She had feared he had gone off to die alone in some forgotten corner of the world.
Vali telling her of Eren's location and his continued commitment to his promises had put that fear to rest for the most part.
Then, a more worrying and personal reason had come to mind.
Had it been her that was the problem?
Kuroka knew what type of woman she was and had no desire to change that, but there was always niggling doubt in everyone's mind when with someone you love.
Am I the problem? Am I being too pushy with my desires? Has this relationship become one-sided? Does he not care about me like I care about him?
Even though she knew that to be false, Kuroka couldn't help the fear she felt.
The last few weeks had largely put those fears to rest as well.
Eren still remained the same man he had always been with her. Hesitant to show physical affection, but not put off by it so long as it didn't become smothering.
If anything, Eren had become even more open with Kuroka now that he didn't have to worry about continually reliving their interactions every moment, past and future.
So, why then had he left?
"I wasn't needed anymore," Eren shrugged. A casual gesture that, if Kuroka didn't know him so well, would have fooled her. "All the factions had been cowed. I left instructions for those that needed them, and it was just a matter of waiting till the world and other pieces of the plan would fall into place without my involvement."
His voice and the slight tremble in his spirit gave it away.
The subtle undercurrent of hesitancy and... shame?
He was lying to her.
Why?
Eren never lied to her. He wouldn't talk about specific topics, but he never lied.
Not to her.
So why now?
"That's why you didn't tell our mooks," Kuroka pointed out with a pout. "You could have told me or Vali, nyaa."
Eren remained stubbornly, infuriatingly, silent.
"You were always planning on leaving," Kuroka pressed. "That's how your powers work. While this bench might be a blind spot, you would know there was a hole in your memory, even if you didn't know where. From the first day we met, you knew you'd leave. Just like you knew I'd make your cane."
"I... did," Eren nodded hesitantly.
"And, nyaat once, did you think of telling me you'd leave for over a year?"
There was heat in her voice, Kuroka realized. One she hadn't intended to let slip.
It had just boiled out.
A year of worry, of fear, of feeling betrayed.
For an instant of clarity, Kuroka suddenly realized this was a tiny fraction of what Shirone must have felt.
Had that been Eren's goal? To give Kuroka a fraction of the pain her sister had felt? Was this a necessary part of the promise to have them reunited?
As always, knowing what was planned and what was coincidence was impossible with Eren, even if his powers were now limited.
"Why, huh," Eren grunted, fists clenching. "I've been asking myself that a lot lately. Why? I know what will happen. I know the cause, the effect. I know the Path. But why do I walk it?"
"You aren't answering my question," Kuroka scowled. "You didn't have to tell me where you were. I just needed to know you were alive. So why didn't you?"
"Why do I do a lot of things," Eren asked himself rhetorically, looking forlorn. Listless. "I never had this problem before, you know? I always knew why. For every single step I took, every terrible deed and evil I committed, I knew why. I was certain of it. Now..."
"Stop running away from the question!"
"...unning away."
"Nyaa?"
"I was running away!" The Titan snapped, hands tightening around his cane. "You want to know why? So do I! But I don't! So I ran!"
"Nyaa!?" Kuroka flinched at the outburst.
"I want to know why!" Eren's cane slammed into the ground with enough force to shake the bench. "Why am I here? Why was I reborn in this world? Why do I still have this damn power? Why have I done all this? Why will I..."
Eren didn't finish the question, shaking his head frantically, face set in a snarl of frustration.
"You want to know why I left you? Because I gave up. I've done everything! Everything! All that's left is the final step. And I don't know why yet!"
Eren gripped his head, hands tightening in his hair in frustration.
"I know there's a reason. There has to be a reason. This bench only blocks one part of my power, not the one that lets me know my own memories. What I know will definitely happen. The only reason I can't see them is because I am preventing myself from seeing them. I know knowing it ahead of time will prevent me from reaching that future. But why is that terrible future something I want? Why have I done all this? Will do it, have done it, am doing it? GAH!! I don't even know anymore!!"
"But," Kuroka hesitated, unsure what to do in this situation. Eren had never snapped at her like this. He looked... confused. Frustrated. Angry. Ashamed. "Haven't you already lived it, nyaa?"
"I have!" Eren growled from clenched teeth. "I know I can't change the future I've lived. I tried. I tried so hard last time. But I can't. But I promised myself, from that first moment in the Path, that I won't do it until I know why!"
Eren's fist slammed into the arm of the bench in his anger. Unenhanced by Touki, it was the arm of a regular human, his flesh split on the metal, blood flowing.
He hit the bench again.
"So I set everything up to work without me and left. I left to look for this damn bench! And I wasn't going to come back. You, Vali, my plans, my promises, all of it. I ran away. I was going to leave it behind! All for this damn bench. I will not leave it until I know why!"
Kuroka had never seen her lover so angry. So passionate.
So... scared.
He had used violence and rage before to cow devils, dragons, and all sorts of monsters to his cause. But it was all chaneled. Limited.
Not like this.
This was why he had lied.
He was ashamed of his weakness.
Eren dropped his cane. The wood clattered, and Kuroka flinched again at the sound.
Turning in his seat, he seized Kuroka's shoulders tightly and looked at her directly, blood staining her kimono.
She couldn't see them clearly, but his bandages had loosened slightly when he had grabbed his head, and she could see his eyes.
Kuroka didn't want to see his eyes. Not now, not like this.
Not as they stared at her in confusion, anger, horror, and shame.
Not with the wet tracks that lined his cheeks or the way his mouth was contorted into a grimace of extreme grief.
Her Senjustu and the connection they shared told her what the face meant.
It was rage.
It was fear.
It was hatred.
It was guilt.
It was a self-loathing so deep that it had Kuroka seeing stars.
"Why am I doing this?" Eren begged for an answer. One Kuroka didn't have. "I don't know why I exist. Why I am here. What am I always the one who has to do these terrible things? What I'll do, it's worse than the Rumbling. What I will inflict on this world is the worst fate I can imagine. So why, dammit!? Why was I smiling?"
The rage left. Eren sagged, still holding Kuroka's shoulders, and he collapsed against her chest.
"Why? Why am I doing this to this world," Eren cried. "You don't deserve this. They don't deserve this. So why am I always the one who has to do these things? Am I really just the Devil?"
He sat there, pouring his emotions out on a bloody and wet kimono.
Awkwardly, Kuroka held him.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't know what to say.
Kuroka didn't know what the 'Rumbling' was.
Kuroka didn't know why Eren's plan was so bad in his eyes. To her, it was a great plan.
Kuroka didn't know why Eren was struggling so much with this now, so close to the end.
Kuroka didn't know so much.
But she thought she knew Eren Yeager.
Now, Kuroka realized, she had only known a part of him.
As long as she had known Eren Yeager, he had never been... this.
This sobbing wreck of a man.
For the first time since they had met so many years ago, Eren Yeager resembled and acted like the young boy she knew he must have been at one point.
Kuroka had a second realization.
This was what Eren had always been.
For the first few years they had known each other, Kuroka had thought Eren to be an emotionless machine. An automaton is marching forward towards a single goal without caring who he trampled over to get there.
There was some truth to that, as Eren did not shy away from violence in the least.
But that wasn't who Eren Yeager truly was.
Kuroka had thought she understood his burden. She had been the only one he had told the true extent of his power, and she had thought she understood the price of that power.
She had been wrong.
Kuroka was confident she was the only one who could see the truth. She was the only one who had seen Erin at the peak of his power, and now, when he was little more of a threat than a regular Ultimate class devil.
She only saw who Eren truly was by seeing him when he was at his most powerless. His most weak and pathetic.
Eren was just a man.
He was just human.
He had an extraordinary power, which she knew for sure, but Eren himself?
He was no genius, someone with an inviolate willpower, or even a great general.
He was just a boy who gained power and sought to create a world in the only way he knew how: through violence.
It was such a revelation to Kuroka.
Eren was... human.
Not a Yokai. Not a devil, angel, or fallen. Not a god or a hero.
Eren was just a man.
More than that, Eren was a man of emotions. A man of rage, sorrow, yearning, and regret.
Kuroka had seen the darker emotions, the rage and fury before. He had used it to bend some of the most powerful beings in the world to his will.
But Kuroka had thought it had just been another part of the plan, a calculated outburst.
After all, he never showed any other emotions.
But she had mistaken the cause and effect.
Eren hadn't allowed himself to feel any other emotion, to express any of the deeper currents that twirled within him, because if he did it once, he would always be living that moment, constantly feeling that collapse of will.
If he allowed himself to reach his lowest point, he'd always be at that lowest point.
And he wouldn't be able to walk forward if he was always at his lowest point.
Eren Yeager needed to walk forward.
Even if he didn't know why.
So Kuroka held her lover close for long minutes as he regained his center.
He must have been holding it in for years.
Eren broke the silence first, pulling away from her to collapse bonelessly against the bench.
"Sorry."
"For what, nyaa?"
"That I am using you."
The voice, so familiar in its lack of emotions, hurt Kuroka's heart just as much as the tears.
"I know." Kuroka's voice was soft and full of love. "You told me."
That first day they had met, when Eren had extended a hand to her, he had said as much. Warned her that he'd use her.
"I am using you too."
Kuroka had laughed and warned him she would use him in turn.
A tool to escape her pursuers, a defender against those hunting Black Cat Kuroka and a tool to reunite her with Shirone.
They had used each other. They were still using each other.
Kuroka thought she understood the exchange when they first made the deal.
She hadn't.
She, after all, couldn't see the future.
Kuroka had realized how deeply Eren had used her only years later when it had been too late. When the shackles of love had been placed tight around her wrists and neck.
Yet Kuroka also realized that... she was alright with that.
Kuroka was different from Eren Yeager.
She'd give up freedom for love.
It had been Kuroka who had offered to use Bouchujutsu to reinforce his flagging life force, trying to buy him more time. Eren had never asked her to, had told her it wouldn't heal him, but it had been Kuroka's choice.
That had been the important part.
Eren knew she would make the offer, though he never asked. He had always known she would come to him that night.
He had known he would accept and what would come of it.
He had seen, lived through, and remembered her offer, her touch, long before they had ever met.
It was probably one of the reasons he had sought her out.
Eren was manipulating her. Kuroka knew that before she offered herself to the man.
Love and an almost fatalistic resignation had compelled her.
Eren could see her choices, but he couldn't make them for her.
What happened when they became one, when Kuroka shared her power, body, and heart with Eren, solidified Kuroka's feelings.
Kuroka had not managed to heal him, just as he knew she wouldn't, but she did connect to Eren through their mingling of Ki. Bouchujutsu was the mingling of Ki, of lifeforce.
When two masters of Senjutsu joined in such a way, it went well beyond the physical.
For that instant, their lives had been one, and she'd seen what he saw.
The Path.
That place where time passed infinitely in an instant.
Eren experienced every moment of his life all at once, but the Path was different.
In that space of towering dunes and blue light, with its lonely tree without branches, things happened as they should, one after another.
And Kuroka had been there with him for so, so long.
She didn't know what they talked about or what they did there. They might have already had this conversation already, and she had forgotten. Maybe lifetimes of conversations and moments.
Maybe Eren had told her he would leave to find this bench, to find out why he was in this world. Maybe Eren had talked about his past, dreams, fears, and love.
Maybe they hadn't talked at all, just sitting together for countless years that passed in an instant.
It was hazy, half-remembered, like a fever dream. There was too much there and too little. Kuroka could only hold on to an impression, a foggy dream, because she was not part of the Path. Not really.
A guest, but she was not part of that world.
It was not her Path.
But the impression of that place had seared itself into her soul.
"It doesn't make it right," Eren grunted, his voice dead of any inflection, even as he drowned himself in self-hatred. "But I did it anyway. Because I needed people to die for me! Again!"
"We knew what we were getting into, nyaa," Kuroka argued back passionately, tails waving in a frenzy. "We all did. You never lied to us about that."
"Again and again," Eren repeated, staring blankly skyward. "More children for my wars. More blood at my feet. More corpses for the road."
"They know they are dying for something, something they believe in. And you gave them something no one else has. Confirmation of success. They can die for you because they know the Titan will bring their dream to life."
Despite her words, Eren still lay there. Like he was empty.
But he wasn't.
That was the problem.
Eren cared.
He tried not to. Tried to keep himself distant and aloof. Tried to wrap himself in apathy.
But Eren wasn't a man who could be detached from emotion.
He cared deeply. About her. About Vali.
About those whom he was leading into damnation.
Not equally.
The subordinates he never met knew were needles in his heart. The comrades he saw every day were arrows of guilt. Vali and his team were swords piercing his chest.
Kuroka?
Eren cared for her more than anyone else in this new life, at least at the time of their joining. Kuroka remembered feeling that clearly in the Path.
It was the care, the love, of a mortal man.
One who had lived an entire lifetime, short as it was, with Kuroka before she had ever met him.
Every second he lived, Eren felt Kuroka's touch. Every moment, he heard her whispers of love well before she uttered them.
He manipulated her, choosing the end goal and leading them both towards it.
That didn't mean he didn't feel every step.
For the same reason, he could not talk about the past, for he would constantly relive the pain, and so too had Eren always cared about her.
Because he had seen their every moment together, he had lived it for every second of his life.
Eren loved her.
Kuroka had been a hundred percent sure of that in that moment of union. It had pervaded that Path so wholly that it might as well have been written in the stars.
It was what had made his disappearance so heartbreaking.
Kuroka didn't know exactly how long she spent in the Path, in the half second of connection, that first time.
All she knew was that it was long enough to gain a third tail.
It was easy to convince Eren that they needed to repeat the experience. He hadn't even argued against it. As Senjutsu users, they both gained power by the exchange and mixing of Ki.
The act itself felt wonderful. The connection, the feelings, all of it had been the most peaceful Kuroka had ever felt.
More than that, though, it had been necessary.
It turned Eren's already large reserves for a human into something that rivalled gods at his peak as he drew Ki from a supremely talented senjutsu user, refined it with endless practice, and used it as an arrow to pierce his enemies' necks.
Kuroka gaining more tails was also a boon, meaning Eren had a more helpful lieutenant. Her passing years in the Path, in an instant, turned a millennia-long process into something that lasted a heartbeat. She couldn't gain such power too often; most of her training was spent controlling the increase, but it turned millennia of effort into months.
And every time they joined, two masters of Bouchujutsu, they grew in power by magnitudes.
Without that power, without each other, they would not have been able to reign in some of the absolute monsters that now worked with the Brigade. There was no way those bastards would have followed a human unless under threat.
But the cost had been steep, Kuroka had realized.
That had been why the future Eren desired had Kuroka in it. He had needed her power. To get that power, he needed to be with her. If he was with her, Eren would come to care.
A vicious cycle, one where Eren manipulated himself as much as everyone else.
Which had come first, she had wondered.
Had Eren decided the goal and then fallen in love?
Or had he fallen in love and chosen a future where they'd be together?
Or had both happened simultaneously, an instant and a lifetime.
Did it matter?
Not to Kuroka.
Eren had come to care for the woman he was supposed to manipulate.
He was only human, after all.
Kuroka never spoke of the truth of her revelations. She never would. For if she spoke it in any timeline Eren looked at, there was a possibility he would know.
Know what she felt when they joined. When her soul and life mixed with his.
And if he knew, he'd know she would never let him die.
"This world, it's terrible," Kuroka tried to reassure him. "So many are mocked, used, thrown away, enslaved, and killed because they don't have power. This world is hell to the weak. You will change that. They die for you, not because you are manipulating them. They know their fate, just like I know it. You told us. They die for you because you give them hope for a world that isn't hell."
"Hell?" Eren tasted the word as if never having heard it before. Then he shook his head as he spoke slowly. "You're wrong. This world isn't hell. It's terrible, but it isn't hell. The world I'll make will be hell. I know that. I know what I have to do. Because I am remaking my world. My hell! I've become the exact person I hate the most, and I don't even know why!"
Eren gripped his head with both hands again, doubling over as if trying to tear thoughts from his head.
He was shaking.
In rage, in hatred, in sorrow, or in fear, Kuroka didn't know.
"Do I die?"
Eren froze. His shaking stopped, but his head remained bowed.
"No."
"Does Shirone?"
"...I don't know. I can't see her."
"If I am alive, Shinronyaa won't die," Kuroka stated. It was a fact. So long as she lived, her sister would too. Then her voice softened, and she hesitated. "But you can only see until you... until the end, right?"
"Yes. I am the only one on the Path. Nobody has come before or will come after."
"So you don't know what will happen after you... after you die." The words tasted like ash in her mouth.
"I do. Because I know people. People repeat the same mistakes. Over and over. There is no escaping it," Eren denied, sitting back up and facing the reincarnated devil. "Even after I die, I know what will happen. I've seen it in my world. And the people of this world are no different. Race doesn't matter. People are the same everywhere. What I am going to do... The world that I will build... I've seen it all before. I've lived in that hell. I just don't know why I am doing it all again."
Kuroka heard the hatred in Eren's voice as he spoke of his home dimension.
"...Is this the 'Rumbling' you mentioned, nyaa?" Kuroka asked hesitantly.
Eren didn't answer.
"If you've seen this before, tell me why it happened there. Maybe the reason is the same."
"The reasons aren't the same," Eren denied instantly, his voice once more detached. He was vacillating, Kuroka realized. Between extremes of emotions and apathy. Trying to come to terms. "I don't hate the people here. Everything that happened in my world was caused by love and hatred. And I don't hate this world enough. I don't hate the people here. They've never done anything to me."
"What about the devils," Kuroka prodded.
She knew Eren held a hatred for the Peerage system and how it allowed devils to force people into what was essentially eternal slavery.
Her own experiences were bad enough that she had no problem when he had directed his ire towards the High-class devils in the Brigade.
"I... thought I did," Eren said hesitantly, hands tightening into fists. "Not all devils." Kuroka hoped not since she was one herself, as was Vali. "But devil Kings? Those that enslave others for power and entertainment? I hated them. Still hate them. What they do is disgusting. I have no problem killing a bunch of devils like that. But everyone else? They don't deserve to die like that, not because of a few animals. And... I am not even sure that hatred is enough anymore."
Kuroka didn't doubt Eren's disgust for devil Kings. The Old Satan faction had been Eren's favourite part of the Brigaid to use as examples whenever he needed to put the fear of the Titan in newbies.
It was hilarious to see those hoity-toity 'noble' devils chafe under his control, act out, and get crushed by a 'lowly human.' But now wasn't time for justified schadenfreude.
Eren was lost. Confused. Hurt.
"What changed," Kuroka asked gently.
"Since I've been here," Eren hesitated, speaking slowly as he tried to put his thoughts back together. "On this bench, even that reason, that hatred, isn't enough to answer why. I haven't found the answer, just more reasons to ask why."
"What changed, nyaa?"
"I realized I was making the same mistake as last time," Eren sighed, weariness all that was left in him as he slumped back against the bench. "I thought I wasn't, but I was. I was hating them for what they were, not who they were. I still hate most Kings of Peerages. Or at least, most I've met," Eren clarified.
Then he paused, reaching down for his cane where it had fallen.
"But... there are kind devils too," he said softly, drawing the first few inches of the blade. "Those with dreams or who give their Peerage a choice. And I can't hate people like that."
It was with a voice void of any will to live that Eren spoke his following words.
"You. Them. Everyone in this world. I can't hate everyone, not like I used to. So why am I here? You all would be better off if I wasn't here."
"Don't say that!" Kuroka snapped. Eren went to speak, but she cut him off. "You can only see what you are involved in. You have no idea if things would be better or worse without you. Whether I would even still be here!"
"You're right," Eren nodded slowly. "I can't see that. But after what I do-"
"What we do, nyaa," Kuroka cut him off. "I've been with you this entire time. I'll be with you to the end. You don't get to take all the blame."
More than anything else she had said, more than any sort of reassurance or appeal to logic, those words shut Eren up.
Which was good because Kuroka wasn't done.
"I don't get it, nyaa," the Nekoshou hissed angrily. It was her turn to be shaking Eren by the shoulders now. "I don't get any of this. I'm trying to understand. I thought I did, but I don't. I don't understand why what we will do is worse than what we've already done. I don't know why you are here or why you are smiling at the end. I don't know why you couldn't send a message for over a year!"
As she shook him, the bandages covering his face finally gave up the ghost and fell to the bench, exposing the deep groves under his eyes. The marks that meant he had to cover his face wherever he went or risk being identified by anyone looking for him.
How many times had Kuroka gently rubbed her hands over those marks, marvelling at the ridges and holes and the power they represented?
Too many to count.
But it was never the shifter marks that held her full attention.
Eren looked up at Kuroka, gray eyes showing more emotion than she had ever seen in them.
Those eyes froze Kuroka's tirade on her lips.
For a second, they stared at each other, really seeing each other for the first time in their lives.
A pathetic man. Lost, confused and angry. One who'd destroy a world for revenge so his friends would live long, happy lives.
A monstrous woman. Loving, hedonistic, and angry. One who'd crush the world for her sister and those she loved.
Kuroka's voice was much softer as she finished her declaration.
"I don't know why you were reborn in this world." Kuroka still had her hands on Eren's shoulders, fingers digging in. As if she could hold on forever. "All I know is that no matter the reason, I am glad you were reborn."
"You don't understand," Eren shook his head slowly. "You can't understand. The fear and shame-"
"Get it through your thick skull, nyaa!" Kuroka interrupted Eren again, physically shaking him as the anger returned. "I am not trying to understand. Not now. You're smiling in the end, right? Then you'll know why, and I will, too. Until then, I don't care, nyaa!"
She kissed him. Hard. Hard enough that his lips would bruise.
Then she pulled back, revelling in the surprise in his eyes. The first time she had ever seen that look on him.
"You've been gone for over a year. You ran away. Fine, I'll accept such a lame excuse, nyaa. I always knew you had your moments of suicidal idiocy. But I cannot accept you saying you shouldn't have been born."
"I didn't say that," Eren said, seizing Kuroka's wrists and glaring at her. There it was. The fire. The passion. The will. The hard-headed stubbornness that had broken the backs of the worst this world had to offer over his titanic knee. "I never regretted being born. I just want to know why? Why was I reborn, and why me? Why have I become exactly what I've always hated?"
"I don't care why, nyaa!" Kuroka hissed, throwing her considerable strength against Eren's. All she managed to do was reposition herself till she was sitting on his lap, glaring down at him with fierce eyes as her tails swirled in a frenzy behind her. "You don't know why you were born? None of us do! So I don't care. All I care about is this. This moment. You and me. Right here and now."
"Why?"
So much in such a short question, asked by a man as lost as everyone else about the future.
Why can't you understand? Why won't you understand?
Why can you ignore this problem, this question about my existence?
Why, after everything I've done and will do, are you still with me?
Why do you still care?
"Because I love you," Kuroka said softly. "Idiot."
Kuroka kissed him again, taking great pleasure in the way Eren's eyes widened in surprise once more.
It was a shame that his connection to the Path was inhibited. Otherwise, Kuroka might have gained her seventh tail that summer evening on the bench.
********
While the enormous power of the mix of the Founder and Attack Titan does give an excellent opportunity for visually dramatic conflicts, I have always been more interested in how it affects the characters. How does one deal with seeing everything, living every moment in a life all at once? At every moment, you are living your worst and best moments. You are feeling the most significant pain and most incredible pleasure every second of your existence.
That's gonna mess a guy up. We see hints of it at the end of AOT, but there simply isn't room for exploring it.
Imagine knowing your husband/wife for decades before even meeting them. Do you love them more or less? What about enemies? You know someone is an enemy who will hurt you before they even know you exist. Does that affect your decisions? Are you the one that makes them an enemy? Are you the one that makes someone your lover?
It's such an interesting premise that I haven't really seen explored deeply. The closest is Dr. Manhattan in the original Watchman, and he is categorically not a base human, unlike Eren and Ymir before they gained their power. If one is a complete sociopath or an unfeeling machine, it doesn't matter, but despite the actions they take, both Eren and Ymir are shown to care and love people.
I've rambled a bit, but my point is that Eren is not an absolute type character. Just as the DxD cast is growing by knowing him, so is he growing by knowing them. In a way he couldn't do in AOT because of how it ended.
I've made no secret that On The Bench is a way of coming to terms with the end of Attack on Titan, both for the characters and me as an author. I've never stated one way or the other whether I like the ending because it doesn't matter for this story. It's the ending we received. And we must come to terms with it, whether we like it or not.
Fanfiction is terrific for allowing us to explore 'what ifs,' AUs, or alternate scenarios, but it can never escape the original work. Then it's not fanfiction anymore, but a whole new story.
I will meet you all next week on the bench.
Eren stirred from his nap, his head leaving Kuroka's shoulder to sit up straight on the bench. He had been awake for a few minutes, just laying there lazily. Otherwise, she would have let him rest longer.
With summer drawing to a close soon, and with it the return of the Shirone's Peerage, Kuroka could no longer delay the question. One that she thought could go without asking but continued to torment her as the days passed.
"Why what?"
"Why'd you leave, nyaa?"
"... I told you. I found this bench when I checked on Shirone."
"I don't mean why did you stay here, nyaa," Kuroka clarified, hand running through his long hair. "I understand that your powers... I understand wanting some peace. But why did you not tell us where you were?"
Why hadn't he told her?
Throughout the entire summer, Kuroka had repeatedly asked herself the question.
Early on, when he had first disappeared, she had entertained the possibility that Eren had decided to betray both the Brigade and her, abandoning them as his 'death' drew closer. She had feared he had gone off to die alone in some forgotten corner of the world.
Vali telling her of Eren's location and his continued commitment to his promises had put that fear to rest for the most part.
Then, a more worrying and personal reason had come to mind.
Had it been her that was the problem?
Kuroka knew what type of woman she was and had no desire to change that, but there was always niggling doubt in everyone's mind when with someone you love.
Am I the problem? Am I being too pushy with my desires? Has this relationship become one-sided? Does he not care about me like I care about him?
Even though she knew that to be false, Kuroka couldn't help the fear she felt.
The last few weeks had largely put those fears to rest as well.
Eren still remained the same man he had always been with her. Hesitant to show physical affection, but not put off by it so long as it didn't become smothering.
If anything, Eren had become even more open with Kuroka now that he didn't have to worry about continually reliving their interactions every moment, past and future.
So, why then had he left?
"I wasn't needed anymore," Eren shrugged. A casual gesture that, if Kuroka didn't know him so well, would have fooled her. "All the factions had been cowed. I left instructions for those that needed them, and it was just a matter of waiting till the world and other pieces of the plan would fall into place without my involvement."
His voice and the slight tremble in his spirit gave it away.
The subtle undercurrent of hesitancy and... shame?
He was lying to her.
Why?
Eren never lied to her. He wouldn't talk about specific topics, but he never lied.
Not to her.
So why now?
"That's why you didn't tell our mooks," Kuroka pointed out with a pout. "You could have told me or Vali, nyaa."
Eren remained stubbornly, infuriatingly, silent.
"You were always planning on leaving," Kuroka pressed. "That's how your powers work. While this bench might be a blind spot, you would know there was a hole in your memory, even if you didn't know where. From the first day we met, you knew you'd leave. Just like you knew I'd make your cane."
"I... did," Eren nodded hesitantly.
"And, nyaat once, did you think of telling me you'd leave for over a year?"
There was heat in her voice, Kuroka realized. One she hadn't intended to let slip.
It had just boiled out.
A year of worry, of fear, of feeling betrayed.
For an instant of clarity, Kuroka suddenly realized this was a tiny fraction of what Shirone must have felt.
Had that been Eren's goal? To give Kuroka a fraction of the pain her sister had felt? Was this a necessary part of the promise to have them reunited?
As always, knowing what was planned and what was coincidence was impossible with Eren, even if his powers were now limited.
"Why, huh," Eren grunted, fists clenching. "I've been asking myself that a lot lately. Why? I know what will happen. I know the cause, the effect. I know the Path. But why do I walk it?"
"You aren't answering my question," Kuroka scowled. "You didn't have to tell me where you were. I just needed to know you were alive. So why didn't you?"
"Why do I do a lot of things," Eren asked himself rhetorically, looking forlorn. Listless. "I never had this problem before, you know? I always knew why. For every single step I took, every terrible deed and evil I committed, I knew why. I was certain of it. Now..."
"Stop running away from the question!"
"...unning away."
"Nyaa?"
"I was running away!" The Titan snapped, hands tightening around his cane. "You want to know why? So do I! But I don't! So I ran!"
"Nyaa!?" Kuroka flinched at the outburst.
"I want to know why!" Eren's cane slammed into the ground with enough force to shake the bench. "Why am I here? Why was I reborn in this world? Why do I still have this damn power? Why have I done all this? Why will I..."
Eren didn't finish the question, shaking his head frantically, face set in a snarl of frustration.
"You want to know why I left you? Because I gave up. I've done everything! Everything! All that's left is the final step. And I don't know why yet!"
Eren gripped his head, hands tightening in his hair in frustration.
"I know there's a reason. There has to be a reason. This bench only blocks one part of my power, not the one that lets me know my own memories. What I know will definitely happen. The only reason I can't see them is because I am preventing myself from seeing them. I know knowing it ahead of time will prevent me from reaching that future. But why is that terrible future something I want? Why have I done all this? Will do it, have done it, am doing it? GAH!! I don't even know anymore!!"
"But," Kuroka hesitated, unsure what to do in this situation. Eren had never snapped at her like this. He looked... confused. Frustrated. Angry. Ashamed. "Haven't you already lived it, nyaa?"
"I have!" Eren growled from clenched teeth. "I know I can't change the future I've lived. I tried. I tried so hard last time. But I can't. But I promised myself, from that first moment in the Path, that I won't do it until I know why!"
Eren's fist slammed into the arm of the bench in his anger. Unenhanced by Touki, it was the arm of a regular human, his flesh split on the metal, blood flowing.
He hit the bench again.
"So I set everything up to work without me and left. I left to look for this damn bench! And I wasn't going to come back. You, Vali, my plans, my promises, all of it. I ran away. I was going to leave it behind! All for this damn bench. I will not leave it until I know why!"
Kuroka had never seen her lover so angry. So passionate.
So... scared.
He had used violence and rage before to cow devils, dragons, and all sorts of monsters to his cause. But it was all chaneled. Limited.
Not like this.
This was why he had lied.
He was ashamed of his weakness.
Eren dropped his cane. The wood clattered, and Kuroka flinched again at the sound.
Turning in his seat, he seized Kuroka's shoulders tightly and looked at her directly, blood staining her kimono.
She couldn't see them clearly, but his bandages had loosened slightly when he had grabbed his head, and she could see his eyes.
Kuroka didn't want to see his eyes. Not now, not like this.
Not as they stared at her in confusion, anger, horror, and shame.
Not with the wet tracks that lined his cheeks or the way his mouth was contorted into a grimace of extreme grief.
Her Senjustu and the connection they shared told her what the face meant.
It was rage.
It was fear.
It was hatred.
It was guilt.
It was a self-loathing so deep that it had Kuroka seeing stars.
"Why am I doing this?" Eren begged for an answer. One Kuroka didn't have. "I don't know why I exist. Why I am here. What am I always the one who has to do these terrible things? What I'll do, it's worse than the Rumbling. What I will inflict on this world is the worst fate I can imagine. So why, dammit!? Why was I smiling?"
The rage left. Eren sagged, still holding Kuroka's shoulders, and he collapsed against her chest.
"Why? Why am I doing this to this world," Eren cried. "You don't deserve this. They don't deserve this. So why am I always the one who has to do these things? Am I really just the Devil?"
He sat there, pouring his emotions out on a bloody and wet kimono.
Awkwardly, Kuroka held him.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't know what to say.
Kuroka didn't know what the 'Rumbling' was.
Kuroka didn't know why Eren's plan was so bad in his eyes. To her, it was a great plan.
Kuroka didn't know why Eren was struggling so much with this now, so close to the end.
Kuroka didn't know so much.
But she thought she knew Eren Yeager.
Now, Kuroka realized, she had only known a part of him.
As long as she had known Eren Yeager, he had never been... this.
This sobbing wreck of a man.
For the first time since they had met so many years ago, Eren Yeager resembled and acted like the young boy she knew he must have been at one point.
Kuroka had a second realization.
This was what Eren had always been.
For the first few years they had known each other, Kuroka had thought Eren to be an emotionless machine. An automaton is marching forward towards a single goal without caring who he trampled over to get there.
There was some truth to that, as Eren did not shy away from violence in the least.
But that wasn't who Eren Yeager truly was.
Kuroka had thought she understood his burden. She had been the only one he had told the true extent of his power, and she had thought she understood the price of that power.
She had been wrong.
Kuroka was confident she was the only one who could see the truth. She was the only one who had seen Erin at the peak of his power, and now, when he was little more of a threat than a regular Ultimate class devil.
She only saw who Eren truly was by seeing him when he was at his most powerless. His most weak and pathetic.
Eren was just a man.
He was just human.
He had an extraordinary power, which she knew for sure, but Eren himself?
He was no genius, someone with an inviolate willpower, or even a great general.
He was just a boy who gained power and sought to create a world in the only way he knew how: through violence.
It was such a revelation to Kuroka.
Eren was... human.
Not a Yokai. Not a devil, angel, or fallen. Not a god or a hero.
Eren was just a man.
More than that, Eren was a man of emotions. A man of rage, sorrow, yearning, and regret.
Kuroka had seen the darker emotions, the rage and fury before. He had used it to bend some of the most powerful beings in the world to his will.
But Kuroka had thought it had just been another part of the plan, a calculated outburst.
After all, he never showed any other emotions.
But she had mistaken the cause and effect.
Eren hadn't allowed himself to feel any other emotion, to express any of the deeper currents that twirled within him, because if he did it once, he would always be living that moment, constantly feeling that collapse of will.
If he allowed himself to reach his lowest point, he'd always be at that lowest point.
And he wouldn't be able to walk forward if he was always at his lowest point.
Eren Yeager needed to walk forward.
Even if he didn't know why.
So Kuroka held her lover close for long minutes as he regained his center.
He must have been holding it in for years.
Eren broke the silence first, pulling away from her to collapse bonelessly against the bench.
"Sorry."
"For what, nyaa?"
"That I am using you."
The voice, so familiar in its lack of emotions, hurt Kuroka's heart just as much as the tears.
"I know." Kuroka's voice was soft and full of love. "You told me."
That first day they had met, when Eren had extended a hand to her, he had said as much. Warned her that he'd use her.
"I am using you too."
Kuroka had laughed and warned him she would use him in turn.
A tool to escape her pursuers, a defender against those hunting Black Cat Kuroka and a tool to reunite her with Shirone.
They had used each other. They were still using each other.
Kuroka thought she understood the exchange when they first made the deal.
She hadn't.
She, after all, couldn't see the future.
Kuroka had realized how deeply Eren had used her only years later when it had been too late. When the shackles of love had been placed tight around her wrists and neck.
Yet Kuroka also realized that... she was alright with that.
Kuroka was different from Eren Yeager.
She'd give up freedom for love.
It had been Kuroka who had offered to use Bouchujutsu to reinforce his flagging life force, trying to buy him more time. Eren had never asked her to, had told her it wouldn't heal him, but it had been Kuroka's choice.
That had been the important part.
Eren knew she would make the offer, though he never asked. He had always known she would come to him that night.
He had known he would accept and what would come of it.
He had seen, lived through, and remembered her offer, her touch, long before they had ever met.
It was probably one of the reasons he had sought her out.
Eren was manipulating her. Kuroka knew that before she offered herself to the man.
Love and an almost fatalistic resignation had compelled her.
Eren could see her choices, but he couldn't make them for her.
What happened when they became one, when Kuroka shared her power, body, and heart with Eren, solidified Kuroka's feelings.
Kuroka had not managed to heal him, just as he knew she wouldn't, but she did connect to Eren through their mingling of Ki. Bouchujutsu was the mingling of Ki, of lifeforce.
When two masters of Senjutsu joined in such a way, it went well beyond the physical.
For that instant, their lives had been one, and she'd seen what he saw.
The Path.
That place where time passed infinitely in an instant.
Eren experienced every moment of his life all at once, but the Path was different.
In that space of towering dunes and blue light, with its lonely tree without branches, things happened as they should, one after another.
And Kuroka had been there with him for so, so long.
She didn't know what they talked about or what they did there. They might have already had this conversation already, and she had forgotten. Maybe lifetimes of conversations and moments.
Maybe Eren had told her he would leave to find this bench, to find out why he was in this world. Maybe Eren had talked about his past, dreams, fears, and love.
Maybe they hadn't talked at all, just sitting together for countless years that passed in an instant.
It was hazy, half-remembered, like a fever dream. There was too much there and too little. Kuroka could only hold on to an impression, a foggy dream, because she was not part of the Path. Not really.
A guest, but she was not part of that world.
It was not her Path.
But the impression of that place had seared itself into her soul.
"It doesn't make it right," Eren grunted, his voice dead of any inflection, even as he drowned himself in self-hatred. "But I did it anyway. Because I needed people to die for me! Again!"
"We knew what we were getting into, nyaa," Kuroka argued back passionately, tails waving in a frenzy. "We all did. You never lied to us about that."
"Again and again," Eren repeated, staring blankly skyward. "More children for my wars. More blood at my feet. More corpses for the road."
"They know they are dying for something, something they believe in. And you gave them something no one else has. Confirmation of success. They can die for you because they know the Titan will bring their dream to life."
Despite her words, Eren still lay there. Like he was empty.
But he wasn't.
That was the problem.
Eren cared.
He tried not to. Tried to keep himself distant and aloof. Tried to wrap himself in apathy.
But Eren wasn't a man who could be detached from emotion.
He cared deeply. About her. About Vali.
About those whom he was leading into damnation.
Not equally.
The subordinates he never met knew were needles in his heart. The comrades he saw every day were arrows of guilt. Vali and his team were swords piercing his chest.
Kuroka?
Eren cared for her more than anyone else in this new life, at least at the time of their joining. Kuroka remembered feeling that clearly in the Path.
It was the care, the love, of a mortal man.
One who had lived an entire lifetime, short as it was, with Kuroka before she had ever met him.
Every second he lived, Eren felt Kuroka's touch. Every moment, he heard her whispers of love well before she uttered them.
He manipulated her, choosing the end goal and leading them both towards it.
That didn't mean he didn't feel every step.
For the same reason, he could not talk about the past, for he would constantly relive the pain, and so too had Eren always cared about her.
Because he had seen their every moment together, he had lived it for every second of his life.
Eren loved her.
Kuroka had been a hundred percent sure of that in that moment of union. It had pervaded that Path so wholly that it might as well have been written in the stars.
It was what had made his disappearance so heartbreaking.
Kuroka didn't know exactly how long she spent in the Path, in the half second of connection, that first time.
All she knew was that it was long enough to gain a third tail.
It was easy to convince Eren that they needed to repeat the experience. He hadn't even argued against it. As Senjutsu users, they both gained power by the exchange and mixing of Ki.
The act itself felt wonderful. The connection, the feelings, all of it had been the most peaceful Kuroka had ever felt.
More than that, though, it had been necessary.
It turned Eren's already large reserves for a human into something that rivalled gods at his peak as he drew Ki from a supremely talented senjutsu user, refined it with endless practice, and used it as an arrow to pierce his enemies' necks.
Kuroka gaining more tails was also a boon, meaning Eren had a more helpful lieutenant. Her passing years in the Path, in an instant, turned a millennia-long process into something that lasted a heartbeat. She couldn't gain such power too often; most of her training was spent controlling the increase, but it turned millennia of effort into months.
And every time they joined, two masters of Bouchujutsu, they grew in power by magnitudes.
Without that power, without each other, they would not have been able to reign in some of the absolute monsters that now worked with the Brigade. There was no way those bastards would have followed a human unless under threat.
But the cost had been steep, Kuroka had realized.
That had been why the future Eren desired had Kuroka in it. He had needed her power. To get that power, he needed to be with her. If he was with her, Eren would come to care.
A vicious cycle, one where Eren manipulated himself as much as everyone else.
Which had come first, she had wondered.
Had Eren decided the goal and then fallen in love?
Or had he fallen in love and chosen a future where they'd be together?
Or had both happened simultaneously, an instant and a lifetime.
Did it matter?
Not to Kuroka.
Eren had come to care for the woman he was supposed to manipulate.
He was only human, after all.
Kuroka never spoke of the truth of her revelations. She never would. For if she spoke it in any timeline Eren looked at, there was a possibility he would know.
Know what she felt when they joined. When her soul and life mixed with his.
And if he knew, he'd know she would never let him die.
"This world, it's terrible," Kuroka tried to reassure him. "So many are mocked, used, thrown away, enslaved, and killed because they don't have power. This world is hell to the weak. You will change that. They die for you, not because you are manipulating them. They know their fate, just like I know it. You told us. They die for you because you give them hope for a world that isn't hell."
"Hell?" Eren tasted the word as if never having heard it before. Then he shook his head as he spoke slowly. "You're wrong. This world isn't hell. It's terrible, but it isn't hell. The world I'll make will be hell. I know that. I know what I have to do. Because I am remaking my world. My hell! I've become the exact person I hate the most, and I don't even know why!"
Eren gripped his head with both hands again, doubling over as if trying to tear thoughts from his head.
He was shaking.
In rage, in hatred, in sorrow, or in fear, Kuroka didn't know.
"Do I die?"
Eren froze. His shaking stopped, but his head remained bowed.
"No."
"Does Shirone?"
"...I don't know. I can't see her."
"If I am alive, Shinronyaa won't die," Kuroka stated. It was a fact. So long as she lived, her sister would too. Then her voice softened, and she hesitated. "But you can only see until you... until the end, right?"
"Yes. I am the only one on the Path. Nobody has come before or will come after."
"So you don't know what will happen after you... after you die." The words tasted like ash in her mouth.
"I do. Because I know people. People repeat the same mistakes. Over and over. There is no escaping it," Eren denied, sitting back up and facing the reincarnated devil. "Even after I die, I know what will happen. I've seen it in my world. And the people of this world are no different. Race doesn't matter. People are the same everywhere. What I am going to do... The world that I will build... I've seen it all before. I've lived in that hell. I just don't know why I am doing it all again."
Kuroka heard the hatred in Eren's voice as he spoke of his home dimension.
"...Is this the 'Rumbling' you mentioned, nyaa?" Kuroka asked hesitantly.
Eren didn't answer.
"If you've seen this before, tell me why it happened there. Maybe the reason is the same."
"The reasons aren't the same," Eren denied instantly, his voice once more detached. He was vacillating, Kuroka realized. Between extremes of emotions and apathy. Trying to come to terms. "I don't hate the people here. Everything that happened in my world was caused by love and hatred. And I don't hate this world enough. I don't hate the people here. They've never done anything to me."
"What about the devils," Kuroka prodded.
She knew Eren held a hatred for the Peerage system and how it allowed devils to force people into what was essentially eternal slavery.
Her own experiences were bad enough that she had no problem when he had directed his ire towards the High-class devils in the Brigade.
"I... thought I did," Eren said hesitantly, hands tightening into fists. "Not all devils." Kuroka hoped not since she was one herself, as was Vali. "But devil Kings? Those that enslave others for power and entertainment? I hated them. Still hate them. What they do is disgusting. I have no problem killing a bunch of devils like that. But everyone else? They don't deserve to die like that, not because of a few animals. And... I am not even sure that hatred is enough anymore."
Kuroka didn't doubt Eren's disgust for devil Kings. The Old Satan faction had been Eren's favourite part of the Brigaid to use as examples whenever he needed to put the fear of the Titan in newbies.
It was hilarious to see those hoity-toity 'noble' devils chafe under his control, act out, and get crushed by a 'lowly human.' But now wasn't time for justified schadenfreude.
Eren was lost. Confused. Hurt.
"What changed," Kuroka asked gently.
"Since I've been here," Eren hesitated, speaking slowly as he tried to put his thoughts back together. "On this bench, even that reason, that hatred, isn't enough to answer why. I haven't found the answer, just more reasons to ask why."
"What changed, nyaa?"
"I realized I was making the same mistake as last time," Eren sighed, weariness all that was left in him as he slumped back against the bench. "I thought I wasn't, but I was. I was hating them for what they were, not who they were. I still hate most Kings of Peerages. Or at least, most I've met," Eren clarified.
Then he paused, reaching down for his cane where it had fallen.
"But... there are kind devils too," he said softly, drawing the first few inches of the blade. "Those with dreams or who give their Peerage a choice. And I can't hate people like that."
It was with a voice void of any will to live that Eren spoke his following words.
"You. Them. Everyone in this world. I can't hate everyone, not like I used to. So why am I here? You all would be better off if I wasn't here."
"Don't say that!" Kuroka snapped. Eren went to speak, but she cut him off. "You can only see what you are involved in. You have no idea if things would be better or worse without you. Whether I would even still be here!"
"You're right," Eren nodded slowly. "I can't see that. But after what I do-"
"What we do, nyaa," Kuroka cut him off. "I've been with you this entire time. I'll be with you to the end. You don't get to take all the blame."
More than anything else she had said, more than any sort of reassurance or appeal to logic, those words shut Eren up.
Which was good because Kuroka wasn't done.
"I don't get it, nyaa," the Nekoshou hissed angrily. It was her turn to be shaking Eren by the shoulders now. "I don't get any of this. I'm trying to understand. I thought I did, but I don't. I don't understand why what we will do is worse than what we've already done. I don't know why you are here or why you are smiling at the end. I don't know why you couldn't send a message for over a year!"
As she shook him, the bandages covering his face finally gave up the ghost and fell to the bench, exposing the deep groves under his eyes. The marks that meant he had to cover his face wherever he went or risk being identified by anyone looking for him.
How many times had Kuroka gently rubbed her hands over those marks, marvelling at the ridges and holes and the power they represented?
Too many to count.
But it was never the shifter marks that held her full attention.
Eren looked up at Kuroka, gray eyes showing more emotion than she had ever seen in them.
Those eyes froze Kuroka's tirade on her lips.
For a second, they stared at each other, really seeing each other for the first time in their lives.
A pathetic man. Lost, confused and angry. One who'd destroy a world for revenge so his friends would live long, happy lives.
A monstrous woman. Loving, hedonistic, and angry. One who'd crush the world for her sister and those she loved.
Kuroka's voice was much softer as she finished her declaration.
"I don't know why you were reborn in this world." Kuroka still had her hands on Eren's shoulders, fingers digging in. As if she could hold on forever. "All I know is that no matter the reason, I am glad you were reborn."
"You don't understand," Eren shook his head slowly. "You can't understand. The fear and shame-"
"Get it through your thick skull, nyaa!" Kuroka interrupted Eren again, physically shaking him as the anger returned. "I am not trying to understand. Not now. You're smiling in the end, right? Then you'll know why, and I will, too. Until then, I don't care, nyaa!"
She kissed him. Hard. Hard enough that his lips would bruise.
Then she pulled back, revelling in the surprise in his eyes. The first time she had ever seen that look on him.
"You've been gone for over a year. You ran away. Fine, I'll accept such a lame excuse, nyaa. I always knew you had your moments of suicidal idiocy. But I cannot accept you saying you shouldn't have been born."
"I didn't say that," Eren said, seizing Kuroka's wrists and glaring at her. There it was. The fire. The passion. The will. The hard-headed stubbornness that had broken the backs of the worst this world had to offer over his titanic knee. "I never regretted being born. I just want to know why? Why was I reborn, and why me? Why have I become exactly what I've always hated?"
"I don't care why, nyaa!" Kuroka hissed, throwing her considerable strength against Eren's. All she managed to do was reposition herself till she was sitting on his lap, glaring down at him with fierce eyes as her tails swirled in a frenzy behind her. "You don't know why you were born? None of us do! So I don't care. All I care about is this. This moment. You and me. Right here and now."
"Why?"
So much in such a short question, asked by a man as lost as everyone else about the future.
Why can't you understand? Why won't you understand?
Why can you ignore this problem, this question about my existence?
Why, after everything I've done and will do, are you still with me?
Why do you still care?
"Because I love you," Kuroka said softly. "Idiot."
Kuroka kissed him again, taking great pleasure in the way Eren's eyes widened in surprise once more.
It was a shame that his connection to the Path was inhibited. Otherwise, Kuroka might have gained her seventh tail that summer evening on the bench.
********
While the enormous power of the mix of the Founder and Attack Titan does give an excellent opportunity for visually dramatic conflicts, I have always been more interested in how it affects the characters. How does one deal with seeing everything, living every moment in a life all at once? At every moment, you are living your worst and best moments. You are feeling the most significant pain and most incredible pleasure every second of your existence.
That's gonna mess a guy up. We see hints of it at the end of AOT, but there simply isn't room for exploring it.
Imagine knowing your husband/wife for decades before even meeting them. Do you love them more or less? What about enemies? You know someone is an enemy who will hurt you before they even know you exist. Does that affect your decisions? Are you the one that makes them an enemy? Are you the one that makes someone your lover?
It's such an interesting premise that I haven't really seen explored deeply. The closest is Dr. Manhattan in the original Watchman, and he is categorically not a base human, unlike Eren and Ymir before they gained their power. If one is a complete sociopath or an unfeeling machine, it doesn't matter, but despite the actions they take, both Eren and Ymir are shown to care and love people.
I've rambled a bit, but my point is that Eren is not an absolute type character. Just as the DxD cast is growing by knowing him, so is he growing by knowing them. In a way he couldn't do in AOT because of how it ended.
I've made no secret that On The Bench is a way of coming to terms with the end of Attack on Titan, both for the characters and me as an author. I've never stated one way or the other whether I like the ending because it doesn't matter for this story. It's the ending we received. And we must come to terms with it, whether we like it or not.
Fanfiction is terrific for allowing us to explore 'what ifs,' AUs, or alternate scenarios, but it can never escape the original work. Then it's not fanfiction anymore, but a whole new story.
I will meet you all next week on the bench.
kz3838
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Thank you for the great chapter, I really like how you wrote Kuroka's interactions with Eren and I think the way you are writing the burden of the Path's power is just amazing. I am very excited to see where you take this next, stay safe out there and keep up the good work!
trashtaker
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Imagine mikasa just going through that park and seeing even railing the shit out of kuroka. Lmao 
PinkShadowReader
Versed in the lewd.
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*Reads Rapturous Rhapsody*
Hah, they began a new series. To top it all off its DxD. *Sigh*
*Many weeks later*
*Sees this* Hmm. Okay I will try it.
*A day later*
Freaking good! It's really good. I was really surprised by its depth. Cheers!
Hah, they began a new series. To top it all off its DxD. *Sigh*
*Many weeks later*
*Sees this* Hmm. Okay I will try it.
*A day later*
Freaking good! It's really good. I was really surprised by its depth. Cheers!
The Rhythm of a Soul Can Be Heard
ReadingDangerously
I'm quite boring. Really... Stop laughing.
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Mikasa Ackerman clenched her fists tightly.
It was the second least dramatic reaction to Sona's loss in the booth after Grayfia's quiet exhale of air.
Their Kings, obviously, were less measured in their responses.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO," Serafall Leviathan wailed to the sky as she collapsed to her knees.
So grief-filled was her shout that one would think a family member had died.
"SOOOO-TAAAAAANNNNN!"
"WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!" Sirzechs Lucifer, in contrast, was shouting in joy as he hopped up and down, waving his red flag energetically. "Go Rias. Go Rias. Go Rais."
The Crimson Satan's chant would have gone on longer if not for his fellow Satan tackling him around the waist with all the fury of a rabid hamster.
The frozen gerbil, powered by the rage of a sis-con who just saw her sister lose, tried to strangle the leader of her race, frothing at the mouth with righteous So-tan-fuelled power.
Mikasa and Grayfia shared long-suffering looks of commiseration.
Then they went to stop a second civil war, one caused by an argument over whose sister was better.
Grayfia went straight for the physical option, grabbing her husband's ear and pulling it tight.
Sirzechs flinched, partly from his wife's pinching and partly because Serafall had bitten him on the arm with all the small dog energy she could muster.
Mikasa, in contrast, went for the diplomatic approach.
"Serafall," Mikasa sighed. "What are you doing?"
"'effen'in-." Judging she couldn't get her point across adequately as she was, the Minister of Foreign Affairs for all devil-kind spat out Sirzechs' sleeve to proclaim her intent proudly. "Defending So-tan's honor!"
Long knowing her King, Mikasa didn't even try to argue. Instead, she just went for the nape of the neck.
"Instead of consoling her after her first Rating Game loss?" Mikasa asked simply.
It was like she had smashed her King with a hammer.
"AH!" Serafall gasped in horrified realization. "You're right, Mi-tan! Don't worry, So-tan! Onee-sama is coming!"
With a swish of her pink skirt, an unnecessary panty shot, and a rain of sparkles, Serafall teleported away.
Grayfia gave Mikasa a look of admiration and respect as she pulled her own King to his feet.
"Are you certain you do not wish to be employed," the maid asked. There was a thread of desperate hope in her voice, one Mikasa only noticed because of their similar way of speaking. "I assure you, the Ministry of Internal Affairs is more than generous in salary and benefits. And you would be a great help."
"No thanks," Mikasa answered bluntly.
Grayfia looked heartbroken, even though her face hadn't so much as twitched.
"What did you think of the match," Sirzechs asked, rubbing his cheek.
"They did good."
"They did more than good," Sirzechs protested good-naturedly. Mikasa remained silent. "Admit it, you are proud of Sona's Peerage."
She was, but she wouldn't admit anything to the man. Mikasa had nothing personally against the Satan, but also had no desire to be closer to her King's friend.
Or anyone else, really.
"They did good," Mikasa repeated.
Sirzechs pouted.
Would devils really be all right with this type of leadership? Mikasa asked herself that for the thousandth time.
Sure, they were in the Satan's private viewing room, but the Pawn was confident that all the Satans' eccentricities were not nearly as feigned as they liked others to believe.
They really were these types of idiots.
They just also were supremely powerful and could be competent. Sometimes. The juxtaposition was probably why they were so successful. Nobody was sure what was fake and what was true.
It was the only way these 'young' devils had been able to lead a faction full of millennia-old monsters with the worst sort of vices.
In the end, it was none of Mikasa's business.
"Be that way," Sirzechs sighed dramatically.
"I am going to see how they are doing," the Pawn said, preparing to teleport to the infirmary herself. Then she paused and finally asked a question she had been worrying over. "Will this loss hurt Sona's dream?"
"Not likely," the leader of the devils answered easily. "While most traditional devils value power over all else, none of the ones that really matter will have expected Sona to beat Rias or Sairaorg. Even if they don't hold the rank officially, a High-class Peerage has never beaten an Ultimate-class one. The match might actually do the opposite, as Sona's tactics allowed her to come close to defeating not only a new Ultimate class devil with the Power of Destruction but also the Red Dragon Emperor."
Mikasa nodded, letting a bit of relief fill her chest. She had been worried and wasn't politically aware enough to know if this would hamper Sona after she had declared her ambition so proudly.
"Sona demonstrated her mental ability, which is more important for her dream than direct power," Sirzechs must have noticed her relief because he continued. "And her Peerage demonstrated their competence against a stronger force, as well as coordination. Rias not only won but also demonstrated her power and control to a degree most Ultimate class beings struggle with. Even Issei stood out, making up for the showing with Riser and demonstrating perseverance and loyalty that will put even the hardest fearmongers to rest."
"Unfortunately, the rest of Lady Rias' Peerage will have to give a better showing in the coming matches."
"They have the entire rest of the tournament," Sirzechs waived off his Queen's concern. "No, this was likely the best outcome for both of them. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought they staged it. Hells, Sona might have planned it if she knew she couldn't win."
That did sound like Sona. Accomplishing her goal even in defeat.
Mikasa nodded in thanks to the pair for their explanation and once again prepared herself for teleportation.
"When you get the chance," Lucifer added before she disappeared. "Please talk to Rias and her Peerage as well. They might have won, but it was a rough go."
Mikasa simply nodded again as the device Adjuka created for her teleported her away.
She reappeared in the part of the facility designed to receive those injured in Rating Games.
While fatalities weren't carried over from the fake space, there were always chances of aftereffects, and combatants would need a place to recover from exhaustion and unconsciousness as they were evaluated by the medics.
From there, Mikasa faced a choice.
Did she go see Rias and her Peerage, as Sirzechs asked, or visit Sona and hers?
Mikasa did like Rias and her group, and she knew them decently well. Plus, Serafall was with Sona, so Mikasa's presence would be more of a hindrance as her King tried to distract Sona with her antics.
But...
"Please train me!" A young Kiba Yutto glared up at Mikasa. "Please. I have to kill them all!"
The newly named Koneko Toujo looked at her with blank eyes. Familiar eyes. The eyes of a girl who had lost everything but could never pick up a small blade to fight back.
"I am Himejima Akeno," the young girl curtsied formally. "Pleased to meet you." Mikasa wanted to shatter that fake and brittle smile.
"I'm not a monster. I don't want to drink blood." The boy hidden in the cardboard box could not see Mikasa flinch. "I'm not a monster."
Mikasa turned toward the section where Sona's Peerage was to be recovering.
It wasn't that she didn't like Rias and her Peerage. In fact, she was glad Sona had such a vivacious childhood friend. It was just...
It was like the Gremory Peerage was a blade, cutting deep into wounds Mikasa had thought long healed.
Every one of them reminded the former soldier of long-dead friends, of times of cruelty and death, and of a boy waiting under a tree.
Hells, the Red Dragon Emperor even sounded slightly like Eren.
Rias had been the only exception, a bastion of joy and liveliness, so at odds with all the cruelties of the world and desperately trying to bring joy to those lost children.
At least until...
"We will be free," Rias declared to the world. Mikasa could almost imagine seeing the shadow of a grey-eyed boy behind her, and her heart sank. Was history doomed to repeat itself? "And we will destroy all who take that freedom from us."
... Mikasa would talk with them later. For now, it was better to check on the Sitri Peerage.
She found them without issue, as there were no other Rating Games at the moment to accommodate the Young Devils Tournament.
Deciding to step past the room where she could hear Serafall try to 'console' Sona, though she did smile slightly at Serafall's antics, Mikasa went to the larger room containing the rest of the Peerage.
They were all there, some crowding around Saji's bed as he had been the last to be defeated, but the rest were all talking to each other in low, dejected voices.
Tsubaki was the first to notice Mikasa's arrival.
"Mikasa-sensei," the Queen said in surprise, standing to her feet as the rest of the Peerage did the same.
Or at least tried to, in Saji's case, but Riruko held him down forcefully to prevent him from standing.
Mikasa looked over the room, noting the looks of shame and failure.
"Good job," she said, trying to cheer them up.
It didn't really work.
"We lost," Momo murmured dejectedly.
"And you helped us train so much," Reya said as she sat back down with a sigh, staring at the floor.
"Sorry, Ackerman-sensei," Tsubasa apologized.
Saji didn't say anything, clenching his fists in frustration as he stared down at his lap.
Mikasa understood they were frustrated, disappointed, and sad that they had lost after giving their all.
But...
"I said 'good job' because you did a good job," Mikasa said simply. "You were evenly matched in numbers but were the weaker party."
They all winced, but Mikasa continued bluntly. They needed to hear this.
"Despite that, you managed to defeat all but two of them before they put up any resistance. You would have won if you were facing anyone but the Red Dragon Emperor and an Ultimate class devil."
"I almost had him," Saji growled through grit teeth. "Just a little longer."
"No," Mikasa answered brutally. "You didn't. The longer a fight goes on, the stronger a Red Dragon Emperor becomes. You could outlast him if he was a Pawn, but he's a Rook. You all lost when the surprise attack failed to take out Hyoudou and Rias."
"Then what," Momo asked helplessly, tears beading her eyes as she looked at their instructor. "Were we supposed to give up?"
"No," Mikasa repeated. "You did exactly what you should have done. You fought an organized retreat against superior opponents. When one of you fell, the others didn't panic, just reorganized. You extended a match that should have been over in a minute to over five."
None of them looked consoled, and the former scout shook her head.
"This is why I don't like Rating Games," Mikasa admitted, and they looked at her in surprise.
"Why not Sensei?" Riruko asked.
"They teach the wrong lessons," Mikasa leaned against the doorway.
How to put this in a way they'd understand? Once more, the former soldier wished Armin was here. He was the one with a way with words.
"In the real world, in the field, Hyoudou would have started Boosting before entering battle, and you'd have no chance of defeating him. Rias would have acted as artillery and destroyed the building from a distance. Or Akeno, since you- we are devils. In the real world, there would not have been a battle."
The Peerage looked more dejected, angry, or despondent with every word Mikasa spoke.
"Despite all that, in the real world, I would still choose to have you all and Sona over Rias and her Peerage."
"Ackerman-sensei?" Tsubaki asked, light returning to her eyes.
"I am not saying this because I trained you or to make you feel better," Mikasa explained with narrowed eyes. "I am stating the truth. If I went on a mission, I would choose you all over them."
"Why?" Tsubasa asked, hope in her voice. They all knew Mikasa wasn't one to mince words or use platitudes.
"Tactics, teamwork, and mindset," Mikasa listed off simply. "Rias might be more powerful, but Sona is the better leader. I'd trust her orders more. And we would work together rather than separately. Having comrades you can coordinate with is a force and safety multiplier. When someone goes off on their own, they are an easy victim. And when things went wrong? You all handled it logically rather than letting emotions ruin your plan."
How many times had she messed things up because she couldn't control her emotions?
Too many to count.
"You saw Hyoudou? The loss of his comrades gave him strength, but he became a blunt instrument. Instead of working with Rias, he took you all on practically alone. While they won the match, it was despite their faults, not because of their superiority."
By now, everyone was looking much brighter. Some were even smiling.
Good.
Mikasa was terrible at cheering people up. Or working with the emotions of others at all. It had always been difficult trying to sympathize with Grisha when he was growing up. Not because she didn't care or didn't have ideas to help, but because Mikasa had no idea how to convey what she was feeling or thinking.
Mikasa had always felt strongly about people, but conveying those emotions had been impossible for so long. It was like there had been a wall separating her from everyone else, and only rarely had she been able to cross it.
It had been easier with people like her adoptive family, but she had only been able to really express herself without issue with two people.
It had been Jean who had come up with the idea of putting a military lens on situations. Mikasa might not have been able to give a motivational speech to save her life, but she had given hundreds of After Action Reports.
It helped that these were the words Mikasa wished she had received when she was younger. When she thought her strength was all that was needed to keep those she loved safe.
The world needed more Erwins, Armins, and Sonas than it needed more Mikasas, Levis, and Rias'.
The world needed more people working together.
The world did not need stronger monsters.
Mikasa made sure to stare them all in the eyes, one at a time, so that they would understand what she was telling them.
"You. Did. Good."
This time, her words had her desired effect as chests slightly puffed in pride. Mikasa nodded, glad to see the small smiles she received.
"More than good!"
Mikasa whirled, sword appearing in her hand to point at the throat of the cheerful voice that had snuck up on her.
Azazel didn't even flinch.
"You all were wonderful," the former Governor of the Grigorri was all smiles despite the blade at his Adam's apple. "So much data. I couldn't have asked for a better showcase of my Artificial Sacred Gears. I need to know everything. How did they feel? Were they responsive in live combat? Did you feel any change before and after the battle? And do you want to keep them? The same ones, or do you want to try some of my other inventions? Tsubaki, are you sure you don't want to try Heavenly Crimson Black Halberd? I think you will see even better results."
The inventor babbled happily, surveying the Sitri Peerage with a critical eye as they all squirmed under his gaze.
Azazel's help significantly contributed to their good showing, thanks to his artificial Sacred Gears. Still, it didn't change that he could be off-putting because of his power, race, and mania whenever he started talking about sacred gears.
Especially the ones he created and named.
Names that the group had immediately changed.
Mikasa put her blade back in her storage device.
"Azazel," the Pawn greeted with a nod, if not a particularly friendly one. She had nothing against the man, fallen or not, but he reminded her too much of Hange. And not the reliable Hange, but the one obsessed with Titans. And Mikasa had never really approved of how Hange would act around... "They've just fought. Give them time to rest."
"This is the best time," Azazel argued. "While the memory is fresh."
"Don't worry, Mikasa-sensei, we're recovered," Tsubaki nodded with a slight grimace. "It is the least we can do for Azazel-dono. So long as he lets Saji rest for a while."
"I'm fine," the Pawn tried to protest, but Riruko pushed him back into bed again with a frown.
"That's for the best," Azazel nodded quickly. "I have something else planned for him." Saji looked worried at the fallen's easy smile. "Don't worry. Next time you face Issei, you'll be able to do more than simply hold him off."
"You will tell both Sona and me everything you have planned before doing anything." Tsubaki adjusted her glasses so they glinted ominously as if daring the leader of an entire faction to test her.
"Yes, yes," Azazel waived off her glare quickly. "You'll agree, I'm sure. Now, come on, all of you. I want to get some readings as soon as possible."
Sona's Peerage shared long commiserating looks, well used to being directed, before filing out of the room.
Mikasa was going to follow them as well to ensure Azazel didn't push them too hard when she noticed Momo and Ruroko saying farewell to 'Gen-chan.'
Saji returned their farewells but completely ignored the more nuanced glances the girls shared with each other and how they looked at him.
Mikasa winced internally.
Right.
That situation.
"I must speak to Saji," Mikasa said plainly, getting questioning looks, but she paid them no mind. Instead, she stared at the fallen leader. "Do not go too far."
"Who do you take me for," Azazel said with a foppish grin, placing his hand over his heart as if he had been wounded by Mikasa's words. "I'd never do something like that."
Mikasa just stared the man down.
"Fine," he sighed eventually with a slump. "I'll save the more rigorous and thorough tests for tomorrow."
Mikasa nodded.
She also discreetly signalled for Tsubaki to call her if the fallen tried something.
Azazel was too much like Hange when it came to Sacred Gears to not have redundancies, just in case.
It didn't take long for Mikasa and Saji to be left alone, and Mikasa closed the door and locked it.
This would be embarrassing enough without being interrupted.
"Ackerman-sensei?" The Pawn shifted nervously on his bed as she walked over and sat on one of the chairs nearby.
Mikasa didn't say anything.
How was she supposed to do this?
There was a reason she had put this off for so long. Talking with Sona about romance had been hard enough and only even possible because Mikasa had seen so much of herself in the young devil.
Well, herself and Armin.
Sona was much more like her friend than Mikasa most of the time.
"Ackerman-sensei?" Saji said again, looking around nervously as Mikasa just sat there, looking at him and not saying anything. "What, um, what did you want to talk about? The match?"
"Saji." Mikasa decided to just speak bluntly and get this over with. "You like Sona."
The boy flinched, flushing as he looked down at his hands.
"Uuuumm," Saji cleared his throat as he squeaked out his words. "You could tell?"
No, but Sona had told her, and once she knew where to look, Mikasa had seen the signs herself.
"She turned you down."
"No," Saji said softly, still looking at the bed as his fists clenched in his sheets. "I didn't even get the chance to confess. She just knew. Pulled me aside and told me it wouldn't happen."
"Do you know why?"
"Because of-" Saji flinched, looked up to meet Mikasa's eyes, then looked back to the bed. His following words were spoken through grit teeth. "Because she likes someone else."
Mikasa knew Sona was trying to keep this boy's exact name and location a secret, likely to avoid either her parents' or, more likely, Serafall's attention. She couldn't even say it was without merit, knowing her best friend as she did.
Serafall had a surprisingly sly side to her, and more than once, Mikasa had let something slip she hadn't intended under the bubbly Satan's attention.
Mikasa was also unsurprised that Sona had ordered her Peerage to keep all information on the human a secret, possibly under threat of punishment. Sona would not have allowed such a point of weakness if she could help it. She had probably also had Rias and her Peerage under the same or similar threat.
In the end, Mikasa wasn't the type to pry. She'd find out who he was when Sona felt ready to share and make her judgements on the boy from there.
"I'm sure that's part of the reason," Mikasa nodded more softly than before. "Another part is her duty as a leader."
"I don't care about that!" Saji looked up to meet her eyes fiercely. "I know I'm just a Low class Pawn, but I'll get there. I'm going to be a devil worthy of her. I swear it!"
While his dedication was admirable, the boy was missing the point.
"You know Sona doesn't care about status," Mikasa scowled, and the boy looked away again. "That's not why she rejected you. It's because she's your leader. She will be your superior, your King, for the rest of your lives, even if you are both High class. It's not about the class. It is about the power dynamic. She doesn't feel comfortable with a relationship like that."
"She'd never take advantage of me, and I'd never ask for special privilege."
"Even if true, her emotional attachment would affect Sona's judgement. She doesn't want that. That's not the leader, the King, she wants to be."
Saji didn't say anything, gritting his teeth in frustration.
Mikasa didn't think she was getting through to him. Sona had probably already explained all this to him before.
Really, what was Mikasa doing here?
She wasn't some genius when it came to relationships. In fact, she was terrible with them. With feelings in general.
Why had Sona asked her to do this?
Saji was stubbornly silent, body trembling. Was it rage at his situation or sadness that had his fists clenched so hard?
Despite herself, Mikasa's heart went out to the boy.
She might not be knowledgeable about relationships or love, but heartbreak?
Heartbreak, Mikasa knew intimately.
"No matter the reason, Sona doesn't see you the way you see her," Mikasa said, face in a mask of neutrality. "So you have a choice."
"A choice?" Saji looked up, hope in his eyes.
It was as if he expected Mikasa to have a way to get Sona to change her mind.
She didn't.
All the former soldier had was the bitter truth of reality.
"Try to move on or persevere." When the boy looked like he would answer immediately, Mikasa cut him off with a look. "To persevere is not a good thing. Sona asked me to come here to stop just that."
Saji flinched as if Mikasa had slapped him.
"Why not," he croaked sadly. "He's not going to be around forever. He's human. I will always be by Sona's side. Maybe she'll change her mind."
"Maybe she'll find someone else," Mikasa said bluntly, and Saji flinched again. Mikasa sighed.
She wasn't trying to hurt the boy, but this was all true, and he needed to hear it.
"To persevere is to go years, decades, without doing anything. No acting on your feelings, even if they remain strong. Not even when, if, Sona is available. Because any time you try anything, you will just remind her why she rejected you. Whether or not you two end up together would be entirely up to her. If you falter, push, or are just unlucky, you will never have the love you want."
"That's kind of romantic, isn't it," Saji tried to smile. It came out as more of a grimace. "Someone always there for you, you know? Who always has your back, who you know loves you? That's a love story, isn't it?"
His voice cracked, and he looked like he was going to cry.
Mikasa took no pleasure in her following words, though they needed to be said.
"That's not a love story." Her words were soft but no less deadly for their tone. "It's a tragedy."
The tears fell on the bed sheets, and it was Mikasa's turn to look away.
She pretended not to hear the tears fall or the muffled sobs.
Mikasa was terrible at this.
All she was good for was hurting people, not helping them.
"It can work," Mikasa found herself saying, the words slipping out from her mouth even as she continued to look away. "That is how my husband and I got together."
"...What?" Saji's voice was soft and wet and oh so delicate.
"He gave me time to grieve. He'd loved me for years but didn't say anything, even when I was... available. It took ten years before I was ready to move on. But..."
Mikasa looked at the wet eyes of a young boy who had been rejected by his first love.
"But is that what you want?" The old widow asked gently. "My husband and I were happy together. Made a family. But... there was always someone between us. We both knew it. I couldn't help who I loved, just like you can't, just like Sona can't. It hurt him. And it will hurt for the rest of your life if that's what you choose to do."
Mikasa had come to love Jean. They had many happy years and memories together. Grisha was the light of her life.
But Eren's memory had always been there. A silence, a hole that could not be filled.
If it weren't for everything Eren had done for them, for Jean going into the relationship knowing exactly what he was getting into, and for Jean's own sense of empathy, their relationship would never have worked.
Mikasa Ackerman had loved Jean Kirstein, but she just couldn't physically find it in herself to love someone more than she had loved Eren Yeager.
And that knowledge had permeated their marriage from the moment they first kissed to the last kiss goodbye.
One last tiny tragedy, even amid the happiness of a long and happy life together.
"What else am I supposed to do," Saji asked, biting his lip and squeezing the sheets harder.
"You can try and move on," Mikasa said, trying to be gentle with her encouragement. She didn't know if she succeeded. "It won't be easy. It won't be quick. You will always feel something for her. But you will be happier in the long run. You both will."
"This would have been so much easier if she just liked me," Saji said, trying to joke as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
"Or if you liked the girls who like you," Mikasa pointed out the hypocrisy in his statement.
"What?" Saji asked, looking at the older Pawn in surprise. "What girls? Who likes me?"
Mikasa blinked.
Right, she was dealing with a teenage boy here. Utterly oblivious to the feelings of others.
Maybe he hadn't been ignoring Momo and Ruroko and had genuinely not noticed.
"I'll let you figure that out," Mikasa deadpanned, standing up from her seat.
She might not pry if they wanted to keep her in the dark about Sona's human lover, but she was petty enough to get a measure of payback. There was only so much teenage drama she couldn't deal with anyway.
She looked down at the boy on the bed, feeling relief that she had gotten Sona's request over with and more than a small measure of sympathy.
"Unless you deeply love Sona so much that you are willing to be alone for decades, potentially forever, you are better off trying to move on and find happiness with someone else."
There was some hope.
Mikasa knew that Saji had only known Sona personally for a few months. This early on in their dynamic, there was every possibility he could move on if he tried.
It still wouldn't be easy, but there was hope.
"What you decide to do is up to you," Mikasa said as she moved to leave the room. "I can only tell you what I recommend. Chase your own happiness, Saji."
"Ackerman-sensei." Mikasa paused, hand on the door handle to look back at the boy. "Call me Genshirou, please," Sa- Genshirou asked. "And... Thanks."
Mikasa just nodded, glad to see some measure of determination in the Pawn's eyes.
Mikasa wished she was better at this sort of thing, but she had done all she could.
Everything from here would be up to the boy's own choices.
She left the young devil to ruminate on his thoughts and get himself in order.
It wasn't a happy conversation, but it needed to happen.
Genshirou wouldn't have an easy time of it, no matter what he decided to do, but at least he shouldn't bother Sona anymore, which was the goal.
********
Alone in his medical room, physically fine but emotionally wrung out, Genshirou Saji stared down at his hands.
He was frustrated, jealous, sad, heartbroken, tired, and confused.
He didn't know what to do with himself but knew he needed to do something.
Wholly alone, he allowed the tears to flow freely.
One hand wiped them away while the other pounded his bed.
Alone, free of fear of judgment, Genshirou Saji let out his true feelings in a low mutter of impotent jealousy. One last bitter, pathetic, and all too human venting.
"Damn Yeager," he murmured under his breath, voice rough with pain. "Why couldn't it have been me?"
For a minute, Saji sat there, feeling sorry for himself, letting the pain in his heart dwell.
Then he stood up from the bed, smacked himself on the cheek a few times, and wiped his red eyes dry.
Genshirou Saji was not a man to sit still and lament his lot.
He might not be the man she liked, but he was still a Pawn of Sona Sitri, the devil who'd change the world.
He still believed in her dream and still wanted to be a part of it.
Even if he wasn't the man she loved, Saji would still be a man she respected.
Even if it meant facing the pain of moving on from his first love.
With renewed determination, Saji left his room to set out and join his fellow Peerage mates.
They might have lost the first Rating Game of the Young Devil Gathering, but Saji would be damned if they lost the second.
********
For all his determination to grow, to be better, and to walk forward, Genshirou Saji was still a newly reincarnated devil.
He was still unaware of just how sensitive a devil's senses could be.
Especially those of a Satan's Pawn who used to be one of humanity's strongest soldiers.
"Mi-chan?" Serafall asked her Pawn with worry.
The door was halfway opened as the woman prepared to 'save' Sona from Serafall's attempt to 'kiss her boo-boos away.'
Then her friend froze mid-word, head darting to look back down the hall with wide eyes.
At the Leviathan's words, Mikasa snapped her head to look at her.
No... not her.
At Sona.
Mikasa didn't move as she stared the girl down, face more intense than Serafall had ever seen.
Then she spoke two words, eyes boring into Sona's.
"Eren Yeager."
Sona flinched, eyes darting around in a panic.
Serafall didn't know why.
All she knew was that she had never seen such a look on her Pawn's face before.
Everything happened so quickly after that for the Leviathan to get a clear answer out of her Pawn.
Then, the woman she considered a second sister was gone, and Serafall was left with her actual sister and dozens of questions.
Like, who was 'Eren Yeager?'
********
Please.
Please.
Please.
Please let it be him.
Please let it be him.
Please let it be him.
Ymir. God. Satans. Great Red.
I don't care who answers.
Just please let it be Eren.
Please let it be my Eren.
Mikasa raced from her teleportation portal, having broken a half dozen laws to get to the human world on such short notice with Adjuka's device.
Mikasa didn't care about that.
All Mikasa cared about, all she could think about was Eren Yeager.
The Pawn took less than a second to move from the Kuoh teleportation spot to the spot in the park Sona had let slip.
Then Mikasa froze, feet and wings refusing to move, even as her heart did its best to burst from her chest.
A heady feeling overcame her, and she stumbled as vertigo overwhelmed her.
It was surreal.
Like she was in a dream.
If what she saw was a dream, she didn't want to wake up.
In a clearing of trees along a dirt path, alone in the warm afternoon sun, Mikasa Ackerman found Eren Yeager napping on the bench.
********
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *Evil laughter intensifies.*
Already the longest chapter of the fic, but I had so much to write. Sorry, not sorry. Don't expect this length too often, though. I still intend to keep most chapters between 2500 and 5000 words, with an average of around 3500.
From her first appearance in the story to now, only ten chapters have passed. Still, it feels like forever. I had no intention of delaying Mikasa and Eren's reunion to the end of the story, but at the same time, there were reasons, both Watsonian and Doyalist, that they hadn't met till now. Only some of them are obvious, but they will all be fleshed out more in the coming chapters.
I am glad we are finally here, though I will address something people have commented on after chapter 28. It is not that Mikasa didn't see reminders of Eren in Rias. There were always such reminders, even before Eren entered their life. I've already briefly touched on, from Eren's talks with them, how they remind him of some of his old comrades. Mikasa saw that, too, but she was not a peer of theirs. She is a grown woman. Connecting to them, beyond a simple matronly figure, has a whole different set of problems. One Mikasa Ackerman is not suited to handle.
That is a bit of a microcosm of an issue I face with a story like this, almost wholly unique to crossover fanfiction. Mikasa has been around in this world for decades. She's influenced the world even before our story started. But, for narrative purposes, I have to balance her existence with the story's needs.
Do I introduce her in the first chapter, well before her role comes in, as a way of signalling what is to come? Or do I only introduce her when she starts to affect the main story? In the end, I settled for a middle ground. She only shows up when she, the character, would.
I like this type of character-driven story, as it absolves me of many contrivances fanfiction writers often use. Imagine if Mikasa suddenly is with Eren on the bench with no warning. That would feel like a total ass-pull. This way, things happen more organically.
A few other misc notes to round us off. I am glad I could give Sona's Peerage and Saji a bit of screen time. They still won't be major characters, but they are a part of Sona's and Mikasa's stories, so they deserve some focus. Same with Serafall. She is also not going to be a main character, but she ties into both Sona and Mikasa so profoundly that she will get more exploration later.
With all that said, while you are still wringing from that cliffhanger, I will meet you all next time, with Mikasa and Eren, on the bench.
PS: .....Mwahahahahaha.
It was the second least dramatic reaction to Sona's loss in the booth after Grayfia's quiet exhale of air.
Their Kings, obviously, were less measured in their responses.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO," Serafall Leviathan wailed to the sky as she collapsed to her knees.
So grief-filled was her shout that one would think a family member had died.
"SOOOO-TAAAAAANNNNN!"
"WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!" Sirzechs Lucifer, in contrast, was shouting in joy as he hopped up and down, waving his red flag energetically. "Go Rias. Go Rias. Go Rais."
The Crimson Satan's chant would have gone on longer if not for his fellow Satan tackling him around the waist with all the fury of a rabid hamster.
The frozen gerbil, powered by the rage of a sis-con who just saw her sister lose, tried to strangle the leader of her race, frothing at the mouth with righteous So-tan-fuelled power.
Mikasa and Grayfia shared long-suffering looks of commiseration.
Then they went to stop a second civil war, one caused by an argument over whose sister was better.
Grayfia went straight for the physical option, grabbing her husband's ear and pulling it tight.
Sirzechs flinched, partly from his wife's pinching and partly because Serafall had bitten him on the arm with all the small dog energy she could muster.
Mikasa, in contrast, went for the diplomatic approach.
"Serafall," Mikasa sighed. "What are you doing?"
"'effen'in-." Judging she couldn't get her point across adequately as she was, the Minister of Foreign Affairs for all devil-kind spat out Sirzechs' sleeve to proclaim her intent proudly. "Defending So-tan's honor!"
Long knowing her King, Mikasa didn't even try to argue. Instead, she just went for the nape of the neck.
"Instead of consoling her after her first Rating Game loss?" Mikasa asked simply.
It was like she had smashed her King with a hammer.
"AH!" Serafall gasped in horrified realization. "You're right, Mi-tan! Don't worry, So-tan! Onee-sama is coming!"
With a swish of her pink skirt, an unnecessary panty shot, and a rain of sparkles, Serafall teleported away.
Grayfia gave Mikasa a look of admiration and respect as she pulled her own King to his feet.
"Are you certain you do not wish to be employed," the maid asked. There was a thread of desperate hope in her voice, one Mikasa only noticed because of their similar way of speaking. "I assure you, the Ministry of Internal Affairs is more than generous in salary and benefits. And you would be a great help."
"No thanks," Mikasa answered bluntly.
Grayfia looked heartbroken, even though her face hadn't so much as twitched.
"What did you think of the match," Sirzechs asked, rubbing his cheek.
"They did good."
"They did more than good," Sirzechs protested good-naturedly. Mikasa remained silent. "Admit it, you are proud of Sona's Peerage."
She was, but she wouldn't admit anything to the man. Mikasa had nothing personally against the Satan, but also had no desire to be closer to her King's friend.
Or anyone else, really.
"They did good," Mikasa repeated.
Sirzechs pouted.
Would devils really be all right with this type of leadership? Mikasa asked herself that for the thousandth time.
Sure, they were in the Satan's private viewing room, but the Pawn was confident that all the Satans' eccentricities were not nearly as feigned as they liked others to believe.
They really were these types of idiots.
They just also were supremely powerful and could be competent. Sometimes. The juxtaposition was probably why they were so successful. Nobody was sure what was fake and what was true.
It was the only way these 'young' devils had been able to lead a faction full of millennia-old monsters with the worst sort of vices.
In the end, it was none of Mikasa's business.
"Be that way," Sirzechs sighed dramatically.
"I am going to see how they are doing," the Pawn said, preparing to teleport to the infirmary herself. Then she paused and finally asked a question she had been worrying over. "Will this loss hurt Sona's dream?"
"Not likely," the leader of the devils answered easily. "While most traditional devils value power over all else, none of the ones that really matter will have expected Sona to beat Rias or Sairaorg. Even if they don't hold the rank officially, a High-class Peerage has never beaten an Ultimate-class one. The match might actually do the opposite, as Sona's tactics allowed her to come close to defeating not only a new Ultimate class devil with the Power of Destruction but also the Red Dragon Emperor."
Mikasa nodded, letting a bit of relief fill her chest. She had been worried and wasn't politically aware enough to know if this would hamper Sona after she had declared her ambition so proudly.
"Sona demonstrated her mental ability, which is more important for her dream than direct power," Sirzechs must have noticed her relief because he continued. "And her Peerage demonstrated their competence against a stronger force, as well as coordination. Rias not only won but also demonstrated her power and control to a degree most Ultimate class beings struggle with. Even Issei stood out, making up for the showing with Riser and demonstrating perseverance and loyalty that will put even the hardest fearmongers to rest."
"Unfortunately, the rest of Lady Rias' Peerage will have to give a better showing in the coming matches."
"They have the entire rest of the tournament," Sirzechs waived off his Queen's concern. "No, this was likely the best outcome for both of them. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought they staged it. Hells, Sona might have planned it if she knew she couldn't win."
That did sound like Sona. Accomplishing her goal even in defeat.
Mikasa nodded in thanks to the pair for their explanation and once again prepared herself for teleportation.
"When you get the chance," Lucifer added before she disappeared. "Please talk to Rias and her Peerage as well. They might have won, but it was a rough go."
Mikasa simply nodded again as the device Adjuka created for her teleported her away.
She reappeared in the part of the facility designed to receive those injured in Rating Games.
While fatalities weren't carried over from the fake space, there were always chances of aftereffects, and combatants would need a place to recover from exhaustion and unconsciousness as they were evaluated by the medics.
From there, Mikasa faced a choice.
Did she go see Rias and her Peerage, as Sirzechs asked, or visit Sona and hers?
Mikasa did like Rias and her group, and she knew them decently well. Plus, Serafall was with Sona, so Mikasa's presence would be more of a hindrance as her King tried to distract Sona with her antics.
But...
"Please train me!" A young Kiba Yutto glared up at Mikasa. "Please. I have to kill them all!"
The newly named Koneko Toujo looked at her with blank eyes. Familiar eyes. The eyes of a girl who had lost everything but could never pick up a small blade to fight back.
"I am Himejima Akeno," the young girl curtsied formally. "Pleased to meet you." Mikasa wanted to shatter that fake and brittle smile.
"I'm not a monster. I don't want to drink blood." The boy hidden in the cardboard box could not see Mikasa flinch. "I'm not a monster."
Mikasa turned toward the section where Sona's Peerage was to be recovering.
It wasn't that she didn't like Rias and her Peerage. In fact, she was glad Sona had such a vivacious childhood friend. It was just...
It was like the Gremory Peerage was a blade, cutting deep into wounds Mikasa had thought long healed.
Every one of them reminded the former soldier of long-dead friends, of times of cruelty and death, and of a boy waiting under a tree.
Hells, the Red Dragon Emperor even sounded slightly like Eren.
Rias had been the only exception, a bastion of joy and liveliness, so at odds with all the cruelties of the world and desperately trying to bring joy to those lost children.
At least until...
"We will be free," Rias declared to the world. Mikasa could almost imagine seeing the shadow of a grey-eyed boy behind her, and her heart sank. Was history doomed to repeat itself? "And we will destroy all who take that freedom from us."
... Mikasa would talk with them later. For now, it was better to check on the Sitri Peerage.
She found them without issue, as there were no other Rating Games at the moment to accommodate the Young Devils Tournament.
Deciding to step past the room where she could hear Serafall try to 'console' Sona, though she did smile slightly at Serafall's antics, Mikasa went to the larger room containing the rest of the Peerage.
They were all there, some crowding around Saji's bed as he had been the last to be defeated, but the rest were all talking to each other in low, dejected voices.
Tsubaki was the first to notice Mikasa's arrival.
"Mikasa-sensei," the Queen said in surprise, standing to her feet as the rest of the Peerage did the same.
Or at least tried to, in Saji's case, but Riruko held him down forcefully to prevent him from standing.
Mikasa looked over the room, noting the looks of shame and failure.
"Good job," she said, trying to cheer them up.
It didn't really work.
"We lost," Momo murmured dejectedly.
"And you helped us train so much," Reya said as she sat back down with a sigh, staring at the floor.
"Sorry, Ackerman-sensei," Tsubasa apologized.
Saji didn't say anything, clenching his fists in frustration as he stared down at his lap.
Mikasa understood they were frustrated, disappointed, and sad that they had lost after giving their all.
But...
"I said 'good job' because you did a good job," Mikasa said simply. "You were evenly matched in numbers but were the weaker party."
They all winced, but Mikasa continued bluntly. They needed to hear this.
"Despite that, you managed to defeat all but two of them before they put up any resistance. You would have won if you were facing anyone but the Red Dragon Emperor and an Ultimate class devil."
"I almost had him," Saji growled through grit teeth. "Just a little longer."
"No," Mikasa answered brutally. "You didn't. The longer a fight goes on, the stronger a Red Dragon Emperor becomes. You could outlast him if he was a Pawn, but he's a Rook. You all lost when the surprise attack failed to take out Hyoudou and Rias."
"Then what," Momo asked helplessly, tears beading her eyes as she looked at their instructor. "Were we supposed to give up?"
"No," Mikasa repeated. "You did exactly what you should have done. You fought an organized retreat against superior opponents. When one of you fell, the others didn't panic, just reorganized. You extended a match that should have been over in a minute to over five."
None of them looked consoled, and the former scout shook her head.
"This is why I don't like Rating Games," Mikasa admitted, and they looked at her in surprise.
"Why not Sensei?" Riruko asked.
"They teach the wrong lessons," Mikasa leaned against the doorway.
How to put this in a way they'd understand? Once more, the former soldier wished Armin was here. He was the one with a way with words.
"In the real world, in the field, Hyoudou would have started Boosting before entering battle, and you'd have no chance of defeating him. Rias would have acted as artillery and destroyed the building from a distance. Or Akeno, since you- we are devils. In the real world, there would not have been a battle."
The Peerage looked more dejected, angry, or despondent with every word Mikasa spoke.
"Despite all that, in the real world, I would still choose to have you all and Sona over Rias and her Peerage."
"Ackerman-sensei?" Tsubaki asked, light returning to her eyes.
"I am not saying this because I trained you or to make you feel better," Mikasa explained with narrowed eyes. "I am stating the truth. If I went on a mission, I would choose you all over them."
"Why?" Tsubasa asked, hope in her voice. They all knew Mikasa wasn't one to mince words or use platitudes.
"Tactics, teamwork, and mindset," Mikasa listed off simply. "Rias might be more powerful, but Sona is the better leader. I'd trust her orders more. And we would work together rather than separately. Having comrades you can coordinate with is a force and safety multiplier. When someone goes off on their own, they are an easy victim. And when things went wrong? You all handled it logically rather than letting emotions ruin your plan."
How many times had she messed things up because she couldn't control her emotions?
Too many to count.
"You saw Hyoudou? The loss of his comrades gave him strength, but he became a blunt instrument. Instead of working with Rias, he took you all on practically alone. While they won the match, it was despite their faults, not because of their superiority."
By now, everyone was looking much brighter. Some were even smiling.
Good.
Mikasa was terrible at cheering people up. Or working with the emotions of others at all. It had always been difficult trying to sympathize with Grisha when he was growing up. Not because she didn't care or didn't have ideas to help, but because Mikasa had no idea how to convey what she was feeling or thinking.
Mikasa had always felt strongly about people, but conveying those emotions had been impossible for so long. It was like there had been a wall separating her from everyone else, and only rarely had she been able to cross it.
It had been easier with people like her adoptive family, but she had only been able to really express herself without issue with two people.
It had been Jean who had come up with the idea of putting a military lens on situations. Mikasa might not have been able to give a motivational speech to save her life, but she had given hundreds of After Action Reports.
It helped that these were the words Mikasa wished she had received when she was younger. When she thought her strength was all that was needed to keep those she loved safe.
The world needed more Erwins, Armins, and Sonas than it needed more Mikasas, Levis, and Rias'.
The world needed more people working together.
The world did not need stronger monsters.
Mikasa made sure to stare them all in the eyes, one at a time, so that they would understand what she was telling them.
"You. Did. Good."
This time, her words had her desired effect as chests slightly puffed in pride. Mikasa nodded, glad to see the small smiles she received.
"More than good!"
Mikasa whirled, sword appearing in her hand to point at the throat of the cheerful voice that had snuck up on her.
Azazel didn't even flinch.
"You all were wonderful," the former Governor of the Grigorri was all smiles despite the blade at his Adam's apple. "So much data. I couldn't have asked for a better showcase of my Artificial Sacred Gears. I need to know everything. How did they feel? Were they responsive in live combat? Did you feel any change before and after the battle? And do you want to keep them? The same ones, or do you want to try some of my other inventions? Tsubaki, are you sure you don't want to try Heavenly Crimson Black Halberd? I think you will see even better results."
The inventor babbled happily, surveying the Sitri Peerage with a critical eye as they all squirmed under his gaze.
Azazel's help significantly contributed to their good showing, thanks to his artificial Sacred Gears. Still, it didn't change that he could be off-putting because of his power, race, and mania whenever he started talking about sacred gears.
Especially the ones he created and named.
Names that the group had immediately changed.
Mikasa put her blade back in her storage device.
"Azazel," the Pawn greeted with a nod, if not a particularly friendly one. She had nothing against the man, fallen or not, but he reminded her too much of Hange. And not the reliable Hange, but the one obsessed with Titans. And Mikasa had never really approved of how Hange would act around... "They've just fought. Give them time to rest."
"This is the best time," Azazel argued. "While the memory is fresh."
"Don't worry, Mikasa-sensei, we're recovered," Tsubaki nodded with a slight grimace. "It is the least we can do for Azazel-dono. So long as he lets Saji rest for a while."
"I'm fine," the Pawn tried to protest, but Riruko pushed him back into bed again with a frown.
"That's for the best," Azazel nodded quickly. "I have something else planned for him." Saji looked worried at the fallen's easy smile. "Don't worry. Next time you face Issei, you'll be able to do more than simply hold him off."
"You will tell both Sona and me everything you have planned before doing anything." Tsubaki adjusted her glasses so they glinted ominously as if daring the leader of an entire faction to test her.
"Yes, yes," Azazel waived off her glare quickly. "You'll agree, I'm sure. Now, come on, all of you. I want to get some readings as soon as possible."
Sona's Peerage shared long commiserating looks, well used to being directed, before filing out of the room.
Mikasa was going to follow them as well to ensure Azazel didn't push them too hard when she noticed Momo and Ruroko saying farewell to 'Gen-chan.'
Saji returned their farewells but completely ignored the more nuanced glances the girls shared with each other and how they looked at him.
Mikasa winced internally.
Right.
That situation.
"I must speak to Saji," Mikasa said plainly, getting questioning looks, but she paid them no mind. Instead, she stared at the fallen leader. "Do not go too far."
"Who do you take me for," Azazel said with a foppish grin, placing his hand over his heart as if he had been wounded by Mikasa's words. "I'd never do something like that."
Mikasa just stared the man down.
"Fine," he sighed eventually with a slump. "I'll save the more rigorous and thorough tests for tomorrow."
Mikasa nodded.
She also discreetly signalled for Tsubaki to call her if the fallen tried something.
Azazel was too much like Hange when it came to Sacred Gears to not have redundancies, just in case.
It didn't take long for Mikasa and Saji to be left alone, and Mikasa closed the door and locked it.
This would be embarrassing enough without being interrupted.
"Ackerman-sensei?" The Pawn shifted nervously on his bed as she walked over and sat on one of the chairs nearby.
Mikasa didn't say anything.
How was she supposed to do this?
There was a reason she had put this off for so long. Talking with Sona about romance had been hard enough and only even possible because Mikasa had seen so much of herself in the young devil.
Well, herself and Armin.
Sona was much more like her friend than Mikasa most of the time.
"Ackerman-sensei?" Saji said again, looking around nervously as Mikasa just sat there, looking at him and not saying anything. "What, um, what did you want to talk about? The match?"
"Saji." Mikasa decided to just speak bluntly and get this over with. "You like Sona."
The boy flinched, flushing as he looked down at his hands.
"Uuuumm," Saji cleared his throat as he squeaked out his words. "You could tell?"
No, but Sona had told her, and once she knew where to look, Mikasa had seen the signs herself.
"She turned you down."
"No," Saji said softly, still looking at the bed as his fists clenched in his sheets. "I didn't even get the chance to confess. She just knew. Pulled me aside and told me it wouldn't happen."
"Do you know why?"
"Because of-" Saji flinched, looked up to meet Mikasa's eyes, then looked back to the bed. His following words were spoken through grit teeth. "Because she likes someone else."
Mikasa knew Sona was trying to keep this boy's exact name and location a secret, likely to avoid either her parents' or, more likely, Serafall's attention. She couldn't even say it was without merit, knowing her best friend as she did.
Serafall had a surprisingly sly side to her, and more than once, Mikasa had let something slip she hadn't intended under the bubbly Satan's attention.
Mikasa was also unsurprised that Sona had ordered her Peerage to keep all information on the human a secret, possibly under threat of punishment. Sona would not have allowed such a point of weakness if she could help it. She had probably also had Rias and her Peerage under the same or similar threat.
In the end, Mikasa wasn't the type to pry. She'd find out who he was when Sona felt ready to share and make her judgements on the boy from there.
"I'm sure that's part of the reason," Mikasa nodded more softly than before. "Another part is her duty as a leader."
"I don't care about that!" Saji looked up to meet her eyes fiercely. "I know I'm just a Low class Pawn, but I'll get there. I'm going to be a devil worthy of her. I swear it!"
While his dedication was admirable, the boy was missing the point.
"You know Sona doesn't care about status," Mikasa scowled, and the boy looked away again. "That's not why she rejected you. It's because she's your leader. She will be your superior, your King, for the rest of your lives, even if you are both High class. It's not about the class. It is about the power dynamic. She doesn't feel comfortable with a relationship like that."
"She'd never take advantage of me, and I'd never ask for special privilege."
"Even if true, her emotional attachment would affect Sona's judgement. She doesn't want that. That's not the leader, the King, she wants to be."
Saji didn't say anything, gritting his teeth in frustration.
Mikasa didn't think she was getting through to him. Sona had probably already explained all this to him before.
Really, what was Mikasa doing here?
She wasn't some genius when it came to relationships. In fact, she was terrible with them. With feelings in general.
Why had Sona asked her to do this?
Saji was stubbornly silent, body trembling. Was it rage at his situation or sadness that had his fists clenched so hard?
Despite herself, Mikasa's heart went out to the boy.
She might not be knowledgeable about relationships or love, but heartbreak?
Heartbreak, Mikasa knew intimately.
"No matter the reason, Sona doesn't see you the way you see her," Mikasa said, face in a mask of neutrality. "So you have a choice."
"A choice?" Saji looked up, hope in his eyes.
It was as if he expected Mikasa to have a way to get Sona to change her mind.
She didn't.
All the former soldier had was the bitter truth of reality.
"Try to move on or persevere." When the boy looked like he would answer immediately, Mikasa cut him off with a look. "To persevere is not a good thing. Sona asked me to come here to stop just that."
Saji flinched as if Mikasa had slapped him.
"Why not," he croaked sadly. "He's not going to be around forever. He's human. I will always be by Sona's side. Maybe she'll change her mind."
"Maybe she'll find someone else," Mikasa said bluntly, and Saji flinched again. Mikasa sighed.
She wasn't trying to hurt the boy, but this was all true, and he needed to hear it.
"To persevere is to go years, decades, without doing anything. No acting on your feelings, even if they remain strong. Not even when, if, Sona is available. Because any time you try anything, you will just remind her why she rejected you. Whether or not you two end up together would be entirely up to her. If you falter, push, or are just unlucky, you will never have the love you want."
"That's kind of romantic, isn't it," Saji tried to smile. It came out as more of a grimace. "Someone always there for you, you know? Who always has your back, who you know loves you? That's a love story, isn't it?"
His voice cracked, and he looked like he was going to cry.
Mikasa took no pleasure in her following words, though they needed to be said.
"That's not a love story." Her words were soft but no less deadly for their tone. "It's a tragedy."
The tears fell on the bed sheets, and it was Mikasa's turn to look away.
She pretended not to hear the tears fall or the muffled sobs.
Mikasa was terrible at this.
All she was good for was hurting people, not helping them.
"It can work," Mikasa found herself saying, the words slipping out from her mouth even as she continued to look away. "That is how my husband and I got together."
"...What?" Saji's voice was soft and wet and oh so delicate.
"He gave me time to grieve. He'd loved me for years but didn't say anything, even when I was... available. It took ten years before I was ready to move on. But..."
Mikasa looked at the wet eyes of a young boy who had been rejected by his first love.
"But is that what you want?" The old widow asked gently. "My husband and I were happy together. Made a family. But... there was always someone between us. We both knew it. I couldn't help who I loved, just like you can't, just like Sona can't. It hurt him. And it will hurt for the rest of your life if that's what you choose to do."
Mikasa had come to love Jean. They had many happy years and memories together. Grisha was the light of her life.
But Eren's memory had always been there. A silence, a hole that could not be filled.
If it weren't for everything Eren had done for them, for Jean going into the relationship knowing exactly what he was getting into, and for Jean's own sense of empathy, their relationship would never have worked.
Mikasa Ackerman had loved Jean Kirstein, but she just couldn't physically find it in herself to love someone more than she had loved Eren Yeager.
And that knowledge had permeated their marriage from the moment they first kissed to the last kiss goodbye.
One last tiny tragedy, even amid the happiness of a long and happy life together.
"What else am I supposed to do," Saji asked, biting his lip and squeezing the sheets harder.
"You can try and move on," Mikasa said, trying to be gentle with her encouragement. She didn't know if she succeeded. "It won't be easy. It won't be quick. You will always feel something for her. But you will be happier in the long run. You both will."
"This would have been so much easier if she just liked me," Saji said, trying to joke as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
"Or if you liked the girls who like you," Mikasa pointed out the hypocrisy in his statement.
"What?" Saji asked, looking at the older Pawn in surprise. "What girls? Who likes me?"
Mikasa blinked.
Right, she was dealing with a teenage boy here. Utterly oblivious to the feelings of others.
Maybe he hadn't been ignoring Momo and Ruroko and had genuinely not noticed.
"I'll let you figure that out," Mikasa deadpanned, standing up from her seat.
She might not pry if they wanted to keep her in the dark about Sona's human lover, but she was petty enough to get a measure of payback. There was only so much teenage drama she couldn't deal with anyway.
She looked down at the boy on the bed, feeling relief that she had gotten Sona's request over with and more than a small measure of sympathy.
"Unless you deeply love Sona so much that you are willing to be alone for decades, potentially forever, you are better off trying to move on and find happiness with someone else."
There was some hope.
Mikasa knew that Saji had only known Sona personally for a few months. This early on in their dynamic, there was every possibility he could move on if he tried.
It still wouldn't be easy, but there was hope.
"What you decide to do is up to you," Mikasa said as she moved to leave the room. "I can only tell you what I recommend. Chase your own happiness, Saji."
"Ackerman-sensei." Mikasa paused, hand on the door handle to look back at the boy. "Call me Genshirou, please," Sa- Genshirou asked. "And... Thanks."
Mikasa just nodded, glad to see some measure of determination in the Pawn's eyes.
Mikasa wished she was better at this sort of thing, but she had done all she could.
Everything from here would be up to the boy's own choices.
She left the young devil to ruminate on his thoughts and get himself in order.
It wasn't a happy conversation, but it needed to happen.
Genshirou wouldn't have an easy time of it, no matter what he decided to do, but at least he shouldn't bother Sona anymore, which was the goal.
********
Alone in his medical room, physically fine but emotionally wrung out, Genshirou Saji stared down at his hands.
He was frustrated, jealous, sad, heartbroken, tired, and confused.
He didn't know what to do with himself but knew he needed to do something.
Wholly alone, he allowed the tears to flow freely.
One hand wiped them away while the other pounded his bed.
Alone, free of fear of judgment, Genshirou Saji let out his true feelings in a low mutter of impotent jealousy. One last bitter, pathetic, and all too human venting.
"Damn Yeager," he murmured under his breath, voice rough with pain. "Why couldn't it have been me?"
For a minute, Saji sat there, feeling sorry for himself, letting the pain in his heart dwell.
Then he stood up from the bed, smacked himself on the cheek a few times, and wiped his red eyes dry.
Genshirou Saji was not a man to sit still and lament his lot.
He might not be the man she liked, but he was still a Pawn of Sona Sitri, the devil who'd change the world.
He still believed in her dream and still wanted to be a part of it.
Even if he wasn't the man she loved, Saji would still be a man she respected.
Even if it meant facing the pain of moving on from his first love.
With renewed determination, Saji left his room to set out and join his fellow Peerage mates.
They might have lost the first Rating Game of the Young Devil Gathering, but Saji would be damned if they lost the second.
********
For all his determination to grow, to be better, and to walk forward, Genshirou Saji was still a newly reincarnated devil.
He was still unaware of just how sensitive a devil's senses could be.
Especially those of a Satan's Pawn who used to be one of humanity's strongest soldiers.
"Mi-chan?" Serafall asked her Pawn with worry.
The door was halfway opened as the woman prepared to 'save' Sona from Serafall's attempt to 'kiss her boo-boos away.'
Then her friend froze mid-word, head darting to look back down the hall with wide eyes.
At the Leviathan's words, Mikasa snapped her head to look at her.
No... not her.
At Sona.
Mikasa didn't move as she stared the girl down, face more intense than Serafall had ever seen.
Then she spoke two words, eyes boring into Sona's.
"Eren Yeager."
Sona flinched, eyes darting around in a panic.
Serafall didn't know why.
All she knew was that she had never seen such a look on her Pawn's face before.
Everything happened so quickly after that for the Leviathan to get a clear answer out of her Pawn.
Then, the woman she considered a second sister was gone, and Serafall was left with her actual sister and dozens of questions.
Like, who was 'Eren Yeager?'
********
Please.
Please.
Please.
Please let it be him.
Please let it be him.
Please let it be him.
Ymir. God. Satans. Great Red.
I don't care who answers.
Just please let it be Eren.
Please let it be my Eren.
Mikasa raced from her teleportation portal, having broken a half dozen laws to get to the human world on such short notice with Adjuka's device.
Mikasa didn't care about that.
All Mikasa cared about, all she could think about was Eren Yeager.
The Pawn took less than a second to move from the Kuoh teleportation spot to the spot in the park Sona had let slip.
Then Mikasa froze, feet and wings refusing to move, even as her heart did its best to burst from her chest.
A heady feeling overcame her, and she stumbled as vertigo overwhelmed her.
It was surreal.
Like she was in a dream.
If what she saw was a dream, she didn't want to wake up.
In a clearing of trees along a dirt path, alone in the warm afternoon sun, Mikasa Ackerman found Eren Yeager napping on the bench.
********
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *Evil laughter intensifies.*
Already the longest chapter of the fic, but I had so much to write. Sorry, not sorry. Don't expect this length too often, though. I still intend to keep most chapters between 2500 and 5000 words, with an average of around 3500.
From her first appearance in the story to now, only ten chapters have passed. Still, it feels like forever. I had no intention of delaying Mikasa and Eren's reunion to the end of the story, but at the same time, there were reasons, both Watsonian and Doyalist, that they hadn't met till now. Only some of them are obvious, but they will all be fleshed out more in the coming chapters.
I am glad we are finally here, though I will address something people have commented on after chapter 28. It is not that Mikasa didn't see reminders of Eren in Rias. There were always such reminders, even before Eren entered their life. I've already briefly touched on, from Eren's talks with them, how they remind him of some of his old comrades. Mikasa saw that, too, but she was not a peer of theirs. She is a grown woman. Connecting to them, beyond a simple matronly figure, has a whole different set of problems. One Mikasa Ackerman is not suited to handle.
That is a bit of a microcosm of an issue I face with a story like this, almost wholly unique to crossover fanfiction. Mikasa has been around in this world for decades. She's influenced the world even before our story started. But, for narrative purposes, I have to balance her existence with the story's needs.
Do I introduce her in the first chapter, well before her role comes in, as a way of signalling what is to come? Or do I only introduce her when she starts to affect the main story? In the end, I settled for a middle ground. She only shows up when she, the character, would.
I like this type of character-driven story, as it absolves me of many contrivances fanfiction writers often use. Imagine if Mikasa suddenly is with Eren on the bench with no warning. That would feel like a total ass-pull. This way, things happen more organically.
A few other misc notes to round us off. I am glad I could give Sona's Peerage and Saji a bit of screen time. They still won't be major characters, but they are a part of Sona's and Mikasa's stories, so they deserve some focus. Same with Serafall. She is also not going to be a main character, but she ties into both Sona and Mikasa so profoundly that she will get more exploration later.
With all that said, while you are still wringing from that cliffhanger, I will meet you all next time, with Mikasa and Eren, on the bench.
PS: .....Mwahahahahaha.
kz3838
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Oh that cliffhanger is evil, but that said I really like how you wrote Mikasa here. I always got the impression that she struggled with expressing herself and I think you hit that perfectly here with her talk with Sona's peerage and Saji. Thank you for the great chapter, stay safe out there and keep up the good work!
Mr. Citizen
Just your average denizen
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Oh come on, don't tell me you didn't see this coming from a mile away. This was always going to be what happened. She'd find out and we'd get left with them meeting as the last thing in the chapter. We all knew he'd do it, we just didn't know what chapter he'd do it in.
Monarchist Guy
Cheese Overlord
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YOU...YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! FO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I'VE SACRIFICED? READING THIS?! ALL FOR A FUCKING CLIFFHANGER GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HE CAN'T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS!!!?! THIS CRUEL TRAJEDY!
D.KnightOfShadows
Know what you're doing yet?
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Dun.
DUN.
DDDDDDUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNN!
Eren: (wakes up in Mikasa's lap) "oh, im still dreaming"
Mikasa: (opens mouth, pauses) "what kind of dreams do you have about me?"
Eren: (bolts upright) "ohshitthisisreal!"
DUN.
DDDDDDUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNN!
Eren: (wakes up in Mikasa's lap) "oh, im still dreaming"
Mikasa: (opens mouth, pauses) "what kind of dreams do you have about me?"
Eren: (bolts upright) "ohshitthisisreal!"
Templar9999
Dragon Doctor
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That would be a scarousing display of womanly prowess
Kalstorm22
Versed in the lewd.
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Great chapter, and masterful work on the evil! cliffhanger.
Small Cut
ReadingDangerously
I'm quite boring. Really... Stop laughing.
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Was this real?
Step.
Was this a dream?
Step.
She'd had dreams like this.
Step.
More times than she could count, she had dreamed of seeing him again.
Step.
Even if this was real, even if she wasn't dreaming, was this really him?
Step.
It looked like him.
Step.
She knew that boy on the bench.
Step.
She knew that lithe frame. She remembered that dark hair. That jawline was etched in her mind.
Step.
Those lips were seared into her soul.
Step.
But...
Step.
She had been wrong before.
Step.
So many times, she had dreamed of something like this, of seeing him again.
And not only in her dreams.
Step.
For years after his death, she saw his shadow everywhere.
He was the bird in the sky.
He was among the children playing in the streets.
For years, every young man in uniform was him, and she'd flinch away in shame when she realized it was but another hallucination.
Another false hope.
Was this just another delusion?
Step.
Her advance slowed.
This world, this hell, had been a renewal of that delusion.
For months after her reincarnation as a devil, she had run away from reality.
She had searched desperately for a hint of Eldia, of Titans, of anything that would prove this was still the world she knew.
The world they had fought for.
The world her child and grandchildren lived in.
The world he had died for.
The world where they were to be buried together.
Step.
She hadn't been well.
Looking back, she could see that she had been in shock.
Without support, friends, her son, or even Armin to rely on, she had once more succumbed to her grief.
It was supposed to be over.
Even if they never got to live together, they were supposed to be able to rest together.
And so she had searched for familiarity in an unfamiliar world.
She had found the place closest to her memories, in the island nation of Madagascar, near a lone tree on a hill, and lived the life of a hermit for months.
All while ignoring everything that didn't line up with her little delusion.
The mountains were in the wrong places. Madagascar was too small to be Eldia. She could speak languages without ever having learned them.
Her body was young again, despite the fact she had been reincarnated as an old woman.
She ignored it all to live a life alone, tending to an empty grave under that tree.
Step.
It had been Serafall who was responsible for snapping her out of it, if unintentionally.
Despite rejecting everything the magical girl had said and done, despite wanting nothing to do with the impossibilities of the new world, the Satan hadn't wanted her new Pawn to be defenceless in a world she was unfamiliar with.
Serafall had, as a way of protecting her from the church, declared Madagascar her new Pawn's territory. Now, she wouldn't be killed by exorcists as a Stray devil in a primarily Christian country.
An air of legitimacy, even though she had never once performed the duties of an actual territory lord.
Serafall had been unaware that the generation's Red Dragon Emperor called the island nation home.
And dragons were fiercely territorial.
Step.
She would have died.
Should have died.
A newly reincarnated devil against a realized Red Dragon Emperor? \
It didn't matter that she was once a great soldier. It would have been an execution.
Only the arrogance of a dragon saved her from dying within the first few months of her new life.
'A member of a Satan's Peerage would surely be a great challenge,' or so the dragon in human form had thought.
The grieving woman hadn't cared about the challenge at all.
She didn't want to fight anymore.
All she wanted to do was be left alone with her grief, loneliness and pain.
The Red Dragon Emperor had taken her passivity as an insult.
Insults, threats, even a few injuries. Anything to get the fight they wanted.
Nothing moved her.
Nothing could really hurt her.
She was numb.
She was already in hell.
Step.
The Red Dragon Emperor made a mistake.
In another effort to provoke her, a blast of power had destroyed the home she had built. With the Boosted power of the Red Dragon Emperor, it also destroyed the neighbouring area.
Including the tree on the hill and the empty grave below it.
The delusion shattered.
It was over so fast.
The arrogant woman had dropped her guard after her victim's continued passivity. She had expended her Boosts in the blast.
Her mouth was open, ready to taunt some more.
The small knife, a tool for cooking, severed the Red Dragon Emperor's spinal column as it stabbed into her neck.
Neither woman understood what had happened, staring at the small blade covered in blood.
One pair of eyes gained light as the other darkened in death.
She had stared at that small blade covered in crimson for over an hour.
She had stared at the corpse of a woman who couldn't have existed in her home world.
She had stared at the rubble of a random tree, a random building, and an empty grave.
It was all that was left of a delusion.
The tears fell.
For the first time since she had become a devil, she had chosen to fight.
Step.
Even though she rarely drew her blades, she had been fighting ever since.
Step.
Was that fight finally over?
Step.
Her speed, so fast as to be invisible to the naked eye, had slowed to a hesitant, frightful walk.
Step after step, she had inexorably approached the boy on the bench.
Each movement of her foot, every press forward, had been slower than the last.
Her final step, silent as the grave she was once buried in, brought her in front of the boy napping on the bench.
She stood there, staring down at the sleeping form.
Her hands shook, urging her to reach out and shake the boy awake.
She followed the urge, reaching out as she had done a hundred times before.
And froze.
She was terrified.
What if she was wrong? What if this was not him and someone with the same name and body? What if this was just a huge coincidence?
Or worse, what if this was just another delusion?
It was impossible. So incomprehensible as to not even be the product of her most fevered dreams.
He was dead.
He looked almost the same as when they had rescued him from Marley's rubble, but was she just projecting?
He was dead.
She had killed him.
Eighty years. She had not seen him in eighty years.
He was dead.
She had no pictures of him, no paintings or anything to remember him by but the scarf around her neck.
She could be wrong.
He was dead.
She didn't think she could handle being wrong.
Not again.
It would break her all over again, and who knew how long it would take her to pick up the knife again.
But... she also couldn't handle not knowing.
Not fighting.
She needed to keep fighting.
How would she know if this was him or someone who looked like him?
...His eyes.
That's how she'd know it was him.
She'd never be wrong about his eyes.
A small blade appeared in her hand.
That small blade swung with the surety of a woman who was prepared to kill her heart one final time.
Her blade did not sever a single strand of hair.
Bandages fell to the bench.
The silent approach, the lack of any threat, and the safety of his location had kept him deep in slumber, but not even the sleeping boy could fail to feel that.
He woke slowly.
He always did, unless startled.
She always had a hard time waking him from his naps.
She watched, the small blade hanging limply from her hand.
Reality had become even more surreal as she caught sight of those curving marks, placed at regular intervals, that surrounded his eyes.
She wasn't breathing, she realized.
She didn't care.
From her teleportation to the human world to this moment, barely a minute had passed, yet time seemed to stand still as the boy woke up.
Mikasa Ackerman looked into the eyes of Eren Yeager.
His gaze, hazy from his nap, met hers.
"Why are you still wearing that?" Eren asked, his voice gentle and regretful as his hand rose to cup her cheek.
Mikasa was crying, she realized as Eren's thumb wiped the tears from her cheek.
"I told you to throw that scarf away."
It was too much.
It was all too much.
This was Eren.
Mikasa didn't know how.
Mikasa didn't care how.
This was Eren.
Her Eren.
The same boy who had wrapped this red scarf around her neck almost a century ago.
He was real.
He was alive.
He was here, with her.
Mikasa did something she wished she had done so much sooner.
With tears streaming down her face, Mikasa kissed Eren.
It was soft.
So soft as to feel like a bird's feather across her lips.
It contained everything she wished she had said and done.
A lifetime of love and yearning and loss.
And he kissed her back.
It felt so right.
Nothing was more important than this kiss, in this moment, on this bench.
Then, the moment passed.
The dreamers awoke.
Eren pulled back as he let out the tiniest hiss of surprise.
Two pairs of eyes looked down to where Mikasa's small blade had fallen from her hands.
There was the tiniest slice along his thigh, cutting through his pants and leaving a thin red line of blood.
They both stared at the wound in shock.
Eren's eyes, no longer clouded by sleep, stared at the cut, and then they moved.
Slowly, oh so slowly.
Eren looked at the woman in his arms and finally saw her.
His mouth opened, but no words escaped.
Mikasa's eyes remained fixed on the bloody thigh as it started to steam and heal.
In those seconds of realization for the both of them, neither said a word.
This was not a dream.
This was reality.
With all its cruel beauty.
Mikasa sprang into action, pieces coming together in her mind as she had a horrified realization.
She grabbed the mute boy by the shoulders and stared into his wide eyes.
"Are you still a shifter," she asked, begging the boy on the bench. "Can you transform?"
"You're... really..."
"Eren! Please!" Mikasa pleaded. The tears of joy had turned into something bitter, yet the tears still streamed from her eyes and blurred her vision. "Please! Are you still the Attack Titan? The Warhammer? Founder? How long..."
Do you have left?
Mikasa couldn't ask that. Not here. Not now.
Not when she had just found him.
Not when she didn't think she could handle the answer.
"How..." Eren was still in shock, looking at her. At her scar. At her eyes wide with panic and tears. "Why..."
Mikasa didn't answer.
Without hesitation, she pulled a small case from the storage tool Serafall had given her to house her weapons.
Mikasa had never planned to use these, but at this exact moment, she could only thank Serafall for insisting she carry them.
Pulling slightly away from Eren, she flung open the lid and grabbed one of the objects inside, tossing the rest away without a care.
The chess pieces rolled in the dirt, dully glowing with demonic power.
"I don't have time to explain," Mikasa said intensely, thrusting the Queen piece forward. "This will help you."
"Wha-"
"It's magic," Mikasa interrupted. "I don't really understand it, but it's magic. Magic is real. This can save you. Please, Eren, trust me."
"You're... a devil?" Eren asked, dumbfounded as he looked at the Evil Piece in her hands.
Mikasa felt a surge of relief, glad he already knew the basics.
"Sona explained it?" She asked, hopeful. Eren's expression warped further in confused bafflement. "It doesn't matter. Take it. It can heal you. You don't have to..."
Mikasa didn't say the rest. Couldn't say the rest.
She just thrust the Queen piece against Eren's chest.
Serafall had told her most Kings had some ceremonial chant, but all that was needed was some Demonic Energy.
Mikasa didn't have that, but Adjuka Beelzebub had made her Pieces, especially for her, and it was actually Serafall who provided the magical power through her own Pawn piece.
They should work so long as she held them against the chest of the being she wished to reincarnate for at least a few seconds, so long as the body was intact.
The Evil Piece glowed and...
And nothing.
The glow faded from the Queen piece.
"Please, Eren," Mikasa begged. "Please don't fight it."
Eren didn't say anything, finally regaining something of his calm as his mouth set into a grim line.
"Please," Mikasa cried, pressing more forcefully to the Piece. "You can hate me all you want. Just live. Please don't die. Not again. Fight!"
"Mikasa."
"You know I won't take your freedom. You know I won't. Please, Eren, fight!"
"Mikasa."
"Is it because I killed you? Hit me! Kill me! Hate me! But don't die. Please. Never again."
"Mikasa!"
Eren's shout startled her, and she flinched.
It gave him a moment to seize her and pull her down to the bench with him, wrapping his arms around her.
The Queen piece was still pressed ineffectually between them.
Eren held her there on the bench as Mikasa wept.
Wept in joy to see the boy she loved once more.
Wept in sadness for their inevitable parting.
Why?
Why was the world so cruel?
"I first connected to the Path at six, almost thirteen years ago," Eren said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I have less than a year left."
Mikasa froze, and then her body started to shake with renewed sobs.
"You weren't there," Eren explained as he defended himself. "I looked. For years, centuries, I looked. Not you, not Armin, nobody. Nobody was in the Path but me. I was all alone."
"I'm a devil now," she said, still pressed against him. The familiar smell and feel of him sent waves of nostalgia through her even if the tears still flowed. Eighty years, and he was still the same. "I have been for nineteen years."
"Who is," Eren asked slowly, as if afraid of the answer. "Who turned you into one?"
There was a familiar rage in his voice, and Mikasa was confident she just had to say the word, and he'd unleash his everything to free her.
She couldn't allow that.
Not only would Eren lose, but Serafall didn't deserve that rage.
"Serafall Leviathan. She-"
"Sona's sister?" Eren interrupted, voice incredulous. "I thought she only had one piece?"
"Behi- Behemoth is the one people know about," Mikasa explained hurriedly, stopping herself from using Serafall's shorthand for the Magical Beast King of the Earth. "I don't leave my home often. Barely anyone knows about me, even among devils. And Serafall doesn't make me do anything. She supports me and doesn't ask for anything in return. She's helped me a lot. I wouldn't be here without her."
Finally pulling away from Eren, no matter how much she hated it, Mikasa met his eyes again.
"Please, Eren," Mikasa begged him to understand. "Please let me reincarnate you. I can finally save you."
Over the years, she had often wondered how much he would have hated the Peerage system, but now, she didn't know any other way to save him.
In her wildest dreams, she imagined having the Evil Pieces back when she was a soldier, giving them to Eren, Armin, and even their old cadetmate Ymir so they didn't need to fear the Founder's curse.
The change in race might have prevented them from being Titan Shifters, but she didn't care.
No longer would they be cursed to die in thirteen years.
Even Annie, Reiner, and Pieck might have been brought over to their side if they no longer had that terrible deadline hanging over their heads.
Even if they ignored a devil's enhanced longevity, without the thirteen-year limit, no longer would there be a need for Historia or her children to turn and eat Eren so that the Founder and the threat of the Rumbling wouldn't be lost.
With the Evil Pieces, they could have lived long, happy lives.
Together.
"I..." Eren paused, biting his lip. Then he sighed, sagging against the bench. "I didn't fight you."
"...What?" Mikasa asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach.
"I thought I was dreaming," Eren said slowly. "When we... kissed. Then, when I realized I wasn't, I thought this was an illusion. A fake created by someone. But you know too much. Stuff I've never talked about. Ever."
He was looking at her, at the scar on her cheek.
The scar he had given her.
Even in their old world, Eren had never spoken about the scar, too ashamed of his lack of control.
Of hurting her.
Even when she instinctively used a devil's minor shapeshifting ability to return to her youth, Mikasa never removed that scar.
Mikasa's hands tightened around his. Emphasizing she was real. That she was here. With him.
"So... I didn't fight your Evil Piece," Eren explained slowly as if talking to himself. As if he didn't believe it. "I would have if you had tried a year ago, but not now. Not after meeting everyone. Not for you."
"But it didn't work," Mikasa muttered lowly, her voice laden with horror and sadness. "Why didn't it work?"
"I... don't... know," Eren said slowly, but it was clear his mind wasn't on the Queen piece.
Instead, he was staring intently at Mikasa.
He still didn't believe she was there, that this was real.
Mikasa was right there with him, still feeling like she was in a dream, but she was able to focus on the danger to Eren's life.
It couldn't be because he was Eldian and they were from another world, as she had been turned into a devil.
It also couldn't be a power issue.
Due to her lack of magic, her pieces were based on Serafall's. Adjuka Beelzebub had considered it an exciting puzzle to get Evil Pieces to work for someone with absolutely zero magic, which was physically impossible in this world. He had finagled it to work through her Pawn piece, connecting her to her King.
So why? What was different?
Why couldn't she save Eren?
"...You never answered," Mikasa realized. "Are you still the Founder?"
Eren hesitated, and Mikasa's heart sank.
She should have known. Each of the Nine Titans had different Shifting Mark patterns. Scars in the skin where they connected to their Titan bodies. Usually, they healed after they were disconnected from the massive bodies, but there had been one exception.
Eren had both the Attack Titan and the Founding Titan for years, but only once he consumed the Warhammer Titan did the Shifter Marks around his eyes turn permanent instead of healing after some time.
Armin had believed that the more of the Nine Titans one held, the more their physical bodies would be affected. There had been no way to prove that since Eren was the first Titan Shifter since Ymir the Founder to hold two of the Nine, let alone three.
If Eren could heal himself but still had those marks around his eyes, that would mean he still had all three.
The Founding Titan was the closest thing their world had to a god.
Mikasa closed her eyes, and the tears started to flow again.
Why?
Why were they here?
Why would they be able to meet again, just to eventually be separated once more?
Was this world not cruel enough already?
Mikasa heard Eren shift, moving slightly, but he did not wipe her tears again.
Instead, Eren's hands rested against the scarf around her neck.
"You never answered either," Eren's voice was whisper-quiet as he unwound the red scarf from her neck.
He held it gently in his hands as he looked down at the Piece of fabric that had defined her life for so long. It looked like he was comparing it to the one in his memories.
"Why didn't you throw this away?"
"I couldn't."
Not when he said those terrible lies to her, breaking her heart.
"I can't throw it away."
Not when he turned against the entire world, becoming the Devil all Eldians had been accused of being.
"...How long has it been for you? Since..."
Not when her sword had severed his head from his spine.
"Eighty years."
Not when she had tried to move on a decade after his death.
"...Were you happy?"
Mikasa hadn't even been able to leave the scarf behind when she went to her final resting place.
"We were."
Thanks to you.
"We all were."
Thanks to the terrible things we had done.
"We lived long, happy lives."
Thanks to the death of eighty percent of humanity.
We, the ones who benefited from your genocide, lived long and happy lives.
"...I'm glad," Eren's voice cracked as his hands ran along the red fabric.
Mikasa couldn't see his face because of his long hair, but she could hear the relief in his voice.
His whole body shook, and large wet drops fell on the scarf.
Mikasa understood.
At this moment, Eren wasn't sad that he was going to die.
He was not grieving that he only had a year left. He was not cursing the world's cruelty for reuniting them only to pull them apart later.
Eren was happy.
So happy that it brought him to tears.
"I'm so glad," Eren cried, his whole body shaking with waves upon waves of emotion.
He had never known what would happen after his death.
He set things up as best he could, but there was no guarantee that they would turn out as he hoped.
For all he knew, they'd die only minutes after him, and all his crimes and suffering would be for nothing.
Hearing it from Mikasa, hearing that his selfish wish had been fulfilled, relieved him more than words could express.
"I'm so glad."
Glad that all his sins, all that blood and death and hatred, had done some good for the people he loved.
Glad that the Devil had done one thing right.
Glad that the lone choice of a lost and angry boy who had never known freedom had been the right one.
It was not the right choice for the world, morality, humanity, or even his home.
But for them.
For the small handful of people, he had managed to save.
Eren looked up at Mikasa again.
His grey eyes were filled with tears, yet they were clear.
Eren was looking at Mikasa.
Not the future or the past, but the Mikasa here and now.
She realized it then. Even if Eren still held the Founder, he didn't have anyone with royal blood in this world to allow him to use that power.
He was no longer trapped by a future he couldn't change.
His vision was unclouded for the first time since the award ceremony after reclaiming their home.
Slowly, oh so slowly, with trembling hands, Eren lifted the long red scarf to her.
As if asking if he even had the right anymore.
Mikasa leaned forward slightly, presenting her neck.
"I'm glad," Eren repeated. His hands moved slowly, but all the shaking stopped. Movements he would never forget. "I don't know why. I don't know how. But I'm glad you're here. No matter how long I have left, I am glad we could meet. I'm glad that you didn't throw away this scarf."
Eren finished wrapping the scarf around Mikasa's neck.
"Thank you," Eren said softly, resting his head against hers. "For being here with me."
"Thank you," Mikasa smiled through the tears. "For wrapping this scarf around me."
"I'll.." Eren choked, but the tiniest, infinitesimal hint of a smile curved his lips even as his tears joined hers. "I'll wrap you up in it again."
So much was still unsaid.
Questions and confesions.
Answers and explanations.
Words of love and guilt. Of moving on yet remaining chained to the past.
None of that mattered.
The whys and hows could wait for later.
Today, here and now, they were together.
They were alive together.
Right now, they didn't care for the cruelty of the world.
Only its beauty.
Wrapped in a red scarf, two lost souls reunited on the bench.
********
I admit to writing this while listening to a playlist of 'Utsukushiki Zankoku Na Sekai,' 'Akuma no Ko,' 'Under The Tree,' 'Itterashai,' 'Nisennen... Moshiku Wa... Nimannen Go No Kimi E,' 'Call Your Name,' and 'Call of Silence.'
It may have affected my mood while writing.
As I wrote this, I decided to leave all the explanations, conflicts, and problems for later. We see some hints at it, but neither of our characters would choose to pursue them right away. Not after just reuniting. Their entire focus would be on each other.
All the issues are still there and waiting, but trying to shoehorn them in didn't feel right.
No matter the whys or hows, if Mikasa and Eren were ever reunited a world away, I can only imagine them as happy. Let's give them time to breathe.
Reality will rear its cruel head, but let's let Mikasa and Eren have their moment of peace and beauty.
We'll meet back up with them next week on the bench.
Step.
Was this a dream?
Step.
She'd had dreams like this.
Step.
More times than she could count, she had dreamed of seeing him again.
Step.
Even if this was real, even if she wasn't dreaming, was this really him?
Step.
It looked like him.
Step.
She knew that boy on the bench.
Step.
She knew that lithe frame. She remembered that dark hair. That jawline was etched in her mind.
Step.
Those lips were seared into her soul.
Step.
But...
Step.
She had been wrong before.
Step.
So many times, she had dreamed of something like this, of seeing him again.
And not only in her dreams.
Step.
For years after his death, she saw his shadow everywhere.
He was the bird in the sky.
He was among the children playing in the streets.
For years, every young man in uniform was him, and she'd flinch away in shame when she realized it was but another hallucination.
Another false hope.
Was this just another delusion?
Step.
Her advance slowed.
This world, this hell, had been a renewal of that delusion.
For months after her reincarnation as a devil, she had run away from reality.
She had searched desperately for a hint of Eldia, of Titans, of anything that would prove this was still the world she knew.
The world they had fought for.
The world her child and grandchildren lived in.
The world he had died for.
The world where they were to be buried together.
Step.
She hadn't been well.
Looking back, she could see that she had been in shock.
Without support, friends, her son, or even Armin to rely on, she had once more succumbed to her grief.
It was supposed to be over.
Even if they never got to live together, they were supposed to be able to rest together.
And so she had searched for familiarity in an unfamiliar world.
She had found the place closest to her memories, in the island nation of Madagascar, near a lone tree on a hill, and lived the life of a hermit for months.
All while ignoring everything that didn't line up with her little delusion.
The mountains were in the wrong places. Madagascar was too small to be Eldia. She could speak languages without ever having learned them.
Her body was young again, despite the fact she had been reincarnated as an old woman.
She ignored it all to live a life alone, tending to an empty grave under that tree.
Step.
It had been Serafall who was responsible for snapping her out of it, if unintentionally.
Despite rejecting everything the magical girl had said and done, despite wanting nothing to do with the impossibilities of the new world, the Satan hadn't wanted her new Pawn to be defenceless in a world she was unfamiliar with.
Serafall had, as a way of protecting her from the church, declared Madagascar her new Pawn's territory. Now, she wouldn't be killed by exorcists as a Stray devil in a primarily Christian country.
An air of legitimacy, even though she had never once performed the duties of an actual territory lord.
Serafall had been unaware that the generation's Red Dragon Emperor called the island nation home.
And dragons were fiercely territorial.
Step.
She would have died.
Should have died.
A newly reincarnated devil against a realized Red Dragon Emperor? \
It didn't matter that she was once a great soldier. It would have been an execution.
Only the arrogance of a dragon saved her from dying within the first few months of her new life.
'A member of a Satan's Peerage would surely be a great challenge,' or so the dragon in human form had thought.
The grieving woman hadn't cared about the challenge at all.
She didn't want to fight anymore.
All she wanted to do was be left alone with her grief, loneliness and pain.
The Red Dragon Emperor had taken her passivity as an insult.
Insults, threats, even a few injuries. Anything to get the fight they wanted.
Nothing moved her.
Nothing could really hurt her.
She was numb.
She was already in hell.
Step.
The Red Dragon Emperor made a mistake.
In another effort to provoke her, a blast of power had destroyed the home she had built. With the Boosted power of the Red Dragon Emperor, it also destroyed the neighbouring area.
Including the tree on the hill and the empty grave below it.
The delusion shattered.
It was over so fast.
The arrogant woman had dropped her guard after her victim's continued passivity. She had expended her Boosts in the blast.
Her mouth was open, ready to taunt some more.
The small knife, a tool for cooking, severed the Red Dragon Emperor's spinal column as it stabbed into her neck.
Neither woman understood what had happened, staring at the small blade covered in blood.
One pair of eyes gained light as the other darkened in death.
She had stared at that small blade covered in crimson for over an hour.
She had stared at the corpse of a woman who couldn't have existed in her home world.
She had stared at the rubble of a random tree, a random building, and an empty grave.
It was all that was left of a delusion.
The tears fell.
For the first time since she had become a devil, she had chosen to fight.
Step.
Even though she rarely drew her blades, she had been fighting ever since.
Step.
Was that fight finally over?
Step.
Her speed, so fast as to be invisible to the naked eye, had slowed to a hesitant, frightful walk.
Step after step, she had inexorably approached the boy on the bench.
Each movement of her foot, every press forward, had been slower than the last.
Her final step, silent as the grave she was once buried in, brought her in front of the boy napping on the bench.
She stood there, staring down at the sleeping form.
Her hands shook, urging her to reach out and shake the boy awake.
She followed the urge, reaching out as she had done a hundred times before.
And froze.
She was terrified.
What if she was wrong? What if this was not him and someone with the same name and body? What if this was just a huge coincidence?
Or worse, what if this was just another delusion?
It was impossible. So incomprehensible as to not even be the product of her most fevered dreams.
He was dead.
He looked almost the same as when they had rescued him from Marley's rubble, but was she just projecting?
He was dead.
She had killed him.
Eighty years. She had not seen him in eighty years.
He was dead.
She had no pictures of him, no paintings or anything to remember him by but the scarf around her neck.
She could be wrong.
He was dead.
She didn't think she could handle being wrong.
Not again.
It would break her all over again, and who knew how long it would take her to pick up the knife again.
But... she also couldn't handle not knowing.
Not fighting.
She needed to keep fighting.
How would she know if this was him or someone who looked like him?
...His eyes.
That's how she'd know it was him.
She'd never be wrong about his eyes.
A small blade appeared in her hand.
That small blade swung with the surety of a woman who was prepared to kill her heart one final time.
Her blade did not sever a single strand of hair.
Bandages fell to the bench.
The silent approach, the lack of any threat, and the safety of his location had kept him deep in slumber, but not even the sleeping boy could fail to feel that.
He woke slowly.
He always did, unless startled.
She always had a hard time waking him from his naps.
She watched, the small blade hanging limply from her hand.
Reality had become even more surreal as she caught sight of those curving marks, placed at regular intervals, that surrounded his eyes.
She wasn't breathing, she realized.
She didn't care.
From her teleportation to the human world to this moment, barely a minute had passed, yet time seemed to stand still as the boy woke up.
Mikasa Ackerman looked into the eyes of Eren Yeager.
His gaze, hazy from his nap, met hers.
"Why are you still wearing that?" Eren asked, his voice gentle and regretful as his hand rose to cup her cheek.
Mikasa was crying, she realized as Eren's thumb wiped the tears from her cheek.
"I told you to throw that scarf away."
It was too much.
It was all too much.
This was Eren.
Mikasa didn't know how.
Mikasa didn't care how.
This was Eren.
Her Eren.
The same boy who had wrapped this red scarf around her neck almost a century ago.
He was real.
He was alive.
He was here, with her.
Mikasa did something she wished she had done so much sooner.
With tears streaming down her face, Mikasa kissed Eren.
It was soft.
So soft as to feel like a bird's feather across her lips.
It contained everything she wished she had said and done.
A lifetime of love and yearning and loss.
And he kissed her back.
It felt so right.
Nothing was more important than this kiss, in this moment, on this bench.
Then, the moment passed.
The dreamers awoke.
Eren pulled back as he let out the tiniest hiss of surprise.
Two pairs of eyes looked down to where Mikasa's small blade had fallen from her hands.
There was the tiniest slice along his thigh, cutting through his pants and leaving a thin red line of blood.
They both stared at the wound in shock.
Eren's eyes, no longer clouded by sleep, stared at the cut, and then they moved.
Slowly, oh so slowly.
Eren looked at the woman in his arms and finally saw her.
His mouth opened, but no words escaped.
Mikasa's eyes remained fixed on the bloody thigh as it started to steam and heal.
In those seconds of realization for the both of them, neither said a word.
This was not a dream.
This was reality.
With all its cruel beauty.
Mikasa sprang into action, pieces coming together in her mind as she had a horrified realization.
She grabbed the mute boy by the shoulders and stared into his wide eyes.
"Are you still a shifter," she asked, begging the boy on the bench. "Can you transform?"
"You're... really..."
"Eren! Please!" Mikasa pleaded. The tears of joy had turned into something bitter, yet the tears still streamed from her eyes and blurred her vision. "Please! Are you still the Attack Titan? The Warhammer? Founder? How long..."
Do you have left?
Mikasa couldn't ask that. Not here. Not now.
Not when she had just found him.
Not when she didn't think she could handle the answer.
"How..." Eren was still in shock, looking at her. At her scar. At her eyes wide with panic and tears. "Why..."
Mikasa didn't answer.
Without hesitation, she pulled a small case from the storage tool Serafall had given her to house her weapons.
Mikasa had never planned to use these, but at this exact moment, she could only thank Serafall for insisting she carry them.
Pulling slightly away from Eren, she flung open the lid and grabbed one of the objects inside, tossing the rest away without a care.
The chess pieces rolled in the dirt, dully glowing with demonic power.
"I don't have time to explain," Mikasa said intensely, thrusting the Queen piece forward. "This will help you."
"Wha-"
"It's magic," Mikasa interrupted. "I don't really understand it, but it's magic. Magic is real. This can save you. Please, Eren, trust me."
"You're... a devil?" Eren asked, dumbfounded as he looked at the Evil Piece in her hands.
Mikasa felt a surge of relief, glad he already knew the basics.
"Sona explained it?" She asked, hopeful. Eren's expression warped further in confused bafflement. "It doesn't matter. Take it. It can heal you. You don't have to..."
Mikasa didn't say the rest. Couldn't say the rest.
She just thrust the Queen piece against Eren's chest.
Serafall had told her most Kings had some ceremonial chant, but all that was needed was some Demonic Energy.
Mikasa didn't have that, but Adjuka Beelzebub had made her Pieces, especially for her, and it was actually Serafall who provided the magical power through her own Pawn piece.
They should work so long as she held them against the chest of the being she wished to reincarnate for at least a few seconds, so long as the body was intact.
The Evil Piece glowed and...
And nothing.
The glow faded from the Queen piece.
"Please, Eren," Mikasa begged. "Please don't fight it."
Eren didn't say anything, finally regaining something of his calm as his mouth set into a grim line.
"Please," Mikasa cried, pressing more forcefully to the Piece. "You can hate me all you want. Just live. Please don't die. Not again. Fight!"
"Mikasa."
"You know I won't take your freedom. You know I won't. Please, Eren, fight!"
"Mikasa."
"Is it because I killed you? Hit me! Kill me! Hate me! But don't die. Please. Never again."
"Mikasa!"
Eren's shout startled her, and she flinched.
It gave him a moment to seize her and pull her down to the bench with him, wrapping his arms around her.
The Queen piece was still pressed ineffectually between them.
Eren held her there on the bench as Mikasa wept.
Wept in joy to see the boy she loved once more.
Wept in sadness for their inevitable parting.
Why?
Why was the world so cruel?
"I first connected to the Path at six, almost thirteen years ago," Eren said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I have less than a year left."
Mikasa froze, and then her body started to shake with renewed sobs.
"You weren't there," Eren explained as he defended himself. "I looked. For years, centuries, I looked. Not you, not Armin, nobody. Nobody was in the Path but me. I was all alone."
"I'm a devil now," she said, still pressed against him. The familiar smell and feel of him sent waves of nostalgia through her even if the tears still flowed. Eighty years, and he was still the same. "I have been for nineteen years."
"Who is," Eren asked slowly, as if afraid of the answer. "Who turned you into one?"
There was a familiar rage in his voice, and Mikasa was confident she just had to say the word, and he'd unleash his everything to free her.
She couldn't allow that.
Not only would Eren lose, but Serafall didn't deserve that rage.
"Serafall Leviathan. She-"
"Sona's sister?" Eren interrupted, voice incredulous. "I thought she only had one piece?"
"Behi- Behemoth is the one people know about," Mikasa explained hurriedly, stopping herself from using Serafall's shorthand for the Magical Beast King of the Earth. "I don't leave my home often. Barely anyone knows about me, even among devils. And Serafall doesn't make me do anything. She supports me and doesn't ask for anything in return. She's helped me a lot. I wouldn't be here without her."
Finally pulling away from Eren, no matter how much she hated it, Mikasa met his eyes again.
"Please, Eren," Mikasa begged him to understand. "Please let me reincarnate you. I can finally save you."
Over the years, she had often wondered how much he would have hated the Peerage system, but now, she didn't know any other way to save him.
In her wildest dreams, she imagined having the Evil Pieces back when she was a soldier, giving them to Eren, Armin, and even their old cadetmate Ymir so they didn't need to fear the Founder's curse.
The change in race might have prevented them from being Titan Shifters, but she didn't care.
No longer would they be cursed to die in thirteen years.
Even Annie, Reiner, and Pieck might have been brought over to their side if they no longer had that terrible deadline hanging over their heads.
Even if they ignored a devil's enhanced longevity, without the thirteen-year limit, no longer would there be a need for Historia or her children to turn and eat Eren so that the Founder and the threat of the Rumbling wouldn't be lost.
With the Evil Pieces, they could have lived long, happy lives.
Together.
"I..." Eren paused, biting his lip. Then he sighed, sagging against the bench. "I didn't fight you."
"...What?" Mikasa asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach.
"I thought I was dreaming," Eren said slowly. "When we... kissed. Then, when I realized I wasn't, I thought this was an illusion. A fake created by someone. But you know too much. Stuff I've never talked about. Ever."
He was looking at her, at the scar on her cheek.
The scar he had given her.
Even in their old world, Eren had never spoken about the scar, too ashamed of his lack of control.
Of hurting her.
Even when she instinctively used a devil's minor shapeshifting ability to return to her youth, Mikasa never removed that scar.
Mikasa's hands tightened around his. Emphasizing she was real. That she was here. With him.
"So... I didn't fight your Evil Piece," Eren explained slowly as if talking to himself. As if he didn't believe it. "I would have if you had tried a year ago, but not now. Not after meeting everyone. Not for you."
"But it didn't work," Mikasa muttered lowly, her voice laden with horror and sadness. "Why didn't it work?"
"I... don't... know," Eren said slowly, but it was clear his mind wasn't on the Queen piece.
Instead, he was staring intently at Mikasa.
He still didn't believe she was there, that this was real.
Mikasa was right there with him, still feeling like she was in a dream, but she was able to focus on the danger to Eren's life.
It couldn't be because he was Eldian and they were from another world, as she had been turned into a devil.
It also couldn't be a power issue.
Due to her lack of magic, her pieces were based on Serafall's. Adjuka Beelzebub had considered it an exciting puzzle to get Evil Pieces to work for someone with absolutely zero magic, which was physically impossible in this world. He had finagled it to work through her Pawn piece, connecting her to her King.
So why? What was different?
Why couldn't she save Eren?
"...You never answered," Mikasa realized. "Are you still the Founder?"
Eren hesitated, and Mikasa's heart sank.
She should have known. Each of the Nine Titans had different Shifting Mark patterns. Scars in the skin where they connected to their Titan bodies. Usually, they healed after they were disconnected from the massive bodies, but there had been one exception.
Eren had both the Attack Titan and the Founding Titan for years, but only once he consumed the Warhammer Titan did the Shifter Marks around his eyes turn permanent instead of healing after some time.
Armin had believed that the more of the Nine Titans one held, the more their physical bodies would be affected. There had been no way to prove that since Eren was the first Titan Shifter since Ymir the Founder to hold two of the Nine, let alone three.
If Eren could heal himself but still had those marks around his eyes, that would mean he still had all three.
The Founding Titan was the closest thing their world had to a god.
Mikasa closed her eyes, and the tears started to flow again.
Why?
Why were they here?
Why would they be able to meet again, just to eventually be separated once more?
Was this world not cruel enough already?
Mikasa heard Eren shift, moving slightly, but he did not wipe her tears again.
Instead, Eren's hands rested against the scarf around her neck.
"You never answered either," Eren's voice was whisper-quiet as he unwound the red scarf from her neck.
He held it gently in his hands as he looked down at the Piece of fabric that had defined her life for so long. It looked like he was comparing it to the one in his memories.
"Why didn't you throw this away?"
"I couldn't."
Not when he said those terrible lies to her, breaking her heart.
"I can't throw it away."
Not when he turned against the entire world, becoming the Devil all Eldians had been accused of being.
"...How long has it been for you? Since..."
Not when her sword had severed his head from his spine.
"Eighty years."
Not when she had tried to move on a decade after his death.
"...Were you happy?"
Mikasa hadn't even been able to leave the scarf behind when she went to her final resting place.
"We were."
Thanks to you.
"We all were."
Thanks to the terrible things we had done.
"We lived long, happy lives."
Thanks to the death of eighty percent of humanity.
We, the ones who benefited from your genocide, lived long and happy lives.
"...I'm glad," Eren's voice cracked as his hands ran along the red fabric.
Mikasa couldn't see his face because of his long hair, but she could hear the relief in his voice.
His whole body shook, and large wet drops fell on the scarf.
Mikasa understood.
At this moment, Eren wasn't sad that he was going to die.
He was not grieving that he only had a year left. He was not cursing the world's cruelty for reuniting them only to pull them apart later.
Eren was happy.
So happy that it brought him to tears.
"I'm so glad," Eren cried, his whole body shaking with waves upon waves of emotion.
He had never known what would happen after his death.
He set things up as best he could, but there was no guarantee that they would turn out as he hoped.
For all he knew, they'd die only minutes after him, and all his crimes and suffering would be for nothing.
Hearing it from Mikasa, hearing that his selfish wish had been fulfilled, relieved him more than words could express.
"I'm so glad."
Glad that all his sins, all that blood and death and hatred, had done some good for the people he loved.
Glad that the Devil had done one thing right.
Glad that the lone choice of a lost and angry boy who had never known freedom had been the right one.
It was not the right choice for the world, morality, humanity, or even his home.
But for them.
For the small handful of people, he had managed to save.
Eren looked up at Mikasa again.
His grey eyes were filled with tears, yet they were clear.
Eren was looking at Mikasa.
Not the future or the past, but the Mikasa here and now.
She realized it then. Even if Eren still held the Founder, he didn't have anyone with royal blood in this world to allow him to use that power.
He was no longer trapped by a future he couldn't change.
His vision was unclouded for the first time since the award ceremony after reclaiming their home.
Slowly, oh so slowly, with trembling hands, Eren lifted the long red scarf to her.
As if asking if he even had the right anymore.
Mikasa leaned forward slightly, presenting her neck.
"I'm glad," Eren repeated. His hands moved slowly, but all the shaking stopped. Movements he would never forget. "I don't know why. I don't know how. But I'm glad you're here. No matter how long I have left, I am glad we could meet. I'm glad that you didn't throw away this scarf."
Eren finished wrapping the scarf around Mikasa's neck.
"Thank you," Eren said softly, resting his head against hers. "For being here with me."
"Thank you," Mikasa smiled through the tears. "For wrapping this scarf around me."
"I'll.." Eren choked, but the tiniest, infinitesimal hint of a smile curved his lips even as his tears joined hers. "I'll wrap you up in it again."
So much was still unsaid.
Questions and confesions.
Answers and explanations.
Words of love and guilt. Of moving on yet remaining chained to the past.
None of that mattered.
The whys and hows could wait for later.
Today, here and now, they were together.
They were alive together.
Right now, they didn't care for the cruelty of the world.
Only its beauty.
Wrapped in a red scarf, two lost souls reunited on the bench.
********
I admit to writing this while listening to a playlist of 'Utsukushiki Zankoku Na Sekai,' 'Akuma no Ko,' 'Under The Tree,' 'Itterashai,' 'Nisennen... Moshiku Wa... Nimannen Go No Kimi E,' 'Call Your Name,' and 'Call of Silence.'
It may have affected my mood while writing.
As I wrote this, I decided to leave all the explanations, conflicts, and problems for later. We see some hints at it, but neither of our characters would choose to pursue them right away. Not after just reuniting. Their entire focus would be on each other.
All the issues are still there and waiting, but trying to shoehorn them in didn't feel right.
No matter the whys or hows, if Mikasa and Eren were ever reunited a world away, I can only imagine them as happy. Let's give them time to breathe.
Reality will rear its cruel head, but let's let Mikasa and Eren have their moment of peace and beauty.
We'll meet back up with them next week on the bench.
CILinkz
Looks at you like that.
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2018
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kinda hoping for a happy ending, like the eren from the vision ommited several thousand years of happy life until he returned to the bench and died on it as an old men or something to keep the loop in logic