Chapter Text
June 853
Call my name — Madrugada
The wooden tub was leaking.
It was hot in the small wooden shed. The improvised bathhouse of his scout squad was the only place to be alone today.
Morning began just like that.
Sasha and Connie had set off for provisions. It wasn't the best idea, knowing half the supplies could simply be wiped out on the way to the "residence."
Armin, Mikasa, Hange, and Jean were at the complete mercy of brooms and rags.
The old abode was a crude parody, a brazen mockery of the world that was supposed to be outside. The world that was outside.
The scents of the forest, the glimmers of the sea. The world he wished he could see.
Levi exhaled. This habit of analyzing everything, thinking things through, worrying, was burning him up from the inside, and the fire once kindled in the streets of the Underground City refused to die even now.
A soft rag rose and fell in the tub placed on the bench, moving in time with imaginary waves, yet barely stirring the water. A piece of soap was clenched in his hand. From afar, beyond the doors, voices murmured. He didn't turn his head.
Any shout now held no danger. Wasn't a signal. Wasn't a call to arms. Any shout now was just a shout.
Without ODM gear, without weapons, without Titans, this world seemed utterly empty and…
The sounds ceased. A door slammed somewhere. The world sank back into silence.
What would have been if everything were different?
If this today had never been theirs?
Would today be any different?
Sasha silently saddled the horses. Her signature knack for finding anything remotely edible lent her eyes an air of anticipation. She'd been given a splendid task, one she handled better than anyone—foraging for provisions. Sometimes, the process of finding food was far more interesting than the result. Especially if that result would later earn her a flavorful scolding from Hange.
Connie was assessing the cart, which stood tilted in the old barn. The stone here was dry and hard; small gaps somewhere above let sunlight fall onto the wooden beams overhead. It seemed even here he was in some vast temple, like those built by the Wall cultists. Birds were nesting under the ceiling, and no one dared disturb them during the cleanup.
Glancing briefly at Connie, Sasha watched his gaze. It was alive, yet utterly restless. What was he thinking through? What did he want, besides returning to his home village? But not today; he knew that perfectly well himself.
Levi pondered. His new today didn't please him, not even in his fantasies. A trickle of water from the tub slowly began dripping onto the stone floor. Sounds returned to his world.
If Hange weren't here today, what would become of their today?
Would Sasha stop saddling the horses? Would Connie stop preparing for the trip? Would anything change? Besides the look in their eyes…?
Would Sasha stop taking joy in food? Would Connie stop wanting to go to the village?
The soap slipped from his hand and fell onto the wet rag in the tub. The sound of splashing water broke his reverie and made him listen. But there were no more sounds. The small wooden outbuilding with its tiny window felt like a torture chamber for one. The soap weighed down the rag and slowly sank to the bottom. He exhaled.
So this is your today.
Driving towards the daylight — Joe Bonamassa
Levi came down to the kitchen in the morning. The light fell differently than it usually did at lunch. Long, slanting slices of sunlight gleamed in Armin's hair as he diligently scrubbed the common table.
Routine, he would say, routine saves. In sorrow and in joy. That's why, when it all ended, he still drove his people to this ambiguous house somewhere on the edge of the known lands. No one objected. Returning to the city felt… awkward? Frightening?
They had lived in the city for almost another year before stepping outside the Walls as free people. Much had changed in that year, but most of all, Levi felt he had changed.
Levi could no longer bear to look at the Walls. Because all he could think about was how beautiful the world was without Titans. And how beautiful it would have been in the eyes of all those who were behind his back now. All those who died defending those damned Walls.
That's why any place from which they couldn't be seen suited him perfectly. After dozens of hours on the road, he saw only forest and sky. No Walls. No walls. No deaths.
For the first time, he saw this world as he had seen it during his first expedition outside the Wall.
The sky was blue again.
He had yearned for it so much.
Everything as they had once wanted.
Of course, the essence wasn't the form, but the substance. All those who lived inside the Walls seemed like something… foreign to this world to Ackerman. It seemed he could see nothing but the endless sky before his eyes. He had reached the edge but could do nothing with himself. The world ended somewhere out there, by the sea. Where perhaps he would be someday. But where those who were once with him would never be.
And as he looked at the sea, the forest, the sky—all of it seemed shrouded in a bloody veil to him. Occasionally, he would chide himself for spending too much time on these thoughts, for being too dramatic, for talking to himself too much about it. But none of it gave him peace. Every expedition beyond the Walls had been a bloody campaign. And it seemed it had remained that way through all the long years.
Here, far from the Walls, the sea was almost within reach. Just cross the wasteland and you'd be at the harbor. However, the closer he strove toward the sea, the tighter the hateful veil choked him.
Routine included common lunch and dinner. Surprisingly, by entrusting the cooking to Hange, Jean, and Mikasa, Levi had practically not miscalculated. He never knew what it was like to live in palaces, so he didn't know what that kind of food, royal food, would be like. Yet sometimes it seemed to him that this very food, made by the hands of his comrades, gave him the time and possibility to live.
Although he knew it wasn't Hange. Or Mikasa and Jean. And their food wasn't the most refined. Not made from the fanciest ingredients. Their cooking was sometimes oversalted. But this particular week, as they put this godforsaken outpost on the edge of the Earth in order, the food tasted especially good…
His surprising plan had worked so well that part of the Scout Regiment simply vanished from all maps and went deep underground.
Eren tried not to catch anyone's eye. Though at the common table he appeared amiable and calm. Levi thought he was just tired, but Armin's constantly wary glances unsettled him. He clearly knew more but couldn't tell anyone. After stepping outside the Walls, toward the sea, no one remained the same as they were. They remained themselves, but it was as if everyone who had lived inside had suddenly stepped out, just as they themselves had—stepped outside the Walls.
Levi himself had changed too.
And that was the only reason he yelled at Armin in the morning for a dirty table.
Had he even heard his own shout? Unlikely. Yet Armin's eyes, already full of shock, nearly popped out of their sockets.
Not because he was wrong about the table.
But because he had lost his temper and shouted.
This shout roused Hange from bed, and a minute later, in complete disarray, barely wrapped in some clothes, she rushed down the stairs to the kitchen. Only Armin saw the glint of the morning ray on her glasses, but he was still in shock from the emotional outburst, so in trying to explain the situation to Hange, he kept shaking his head as if disbelieving what had happened. Hange, for her part, didn't believe it either. Raising an eyebrow and pouring herself a mug of ice-cold water, she grumbled and headed back toward the stairs. But her urge to get more sleep was interrupted by Mikasa, who was hauling firewood into the kitchen. The narrow passage between the door to the yard and the dark staircase leading to the second floor was blocked. The huge bundle was slowly coming apart as Mikasa made her way to the stove. Under the stove was a nook almost completely filled with firewood. And there was clearly enough wood for lunch, dinner, and two more days ahead…
Hange noticed Eren flitting through the yard, slowly stepping away from the chopping block to get a new log. Simple things seemed so simple to her that they induced stupor. No catch. No illusions. No mysteries. Technologies. Calculations…
Just one of the Titans chopping wood in the backyard. Another scrubbing the dinner table. Because they simply had a schedule and duties. Like in the Cadet Corps…
Mikasa straightened up, dumping the logs on the floor, but saw only a cursing piece of fabric sliding upstairs. Armin behind her let out a breath.
"Imagine what happened…"
Running a hand through his light hair, he laughed nervously. The sound of his voice surprised Levi, who was hurrying away from the building into the field.
What a beautiful, blooming field…
"He yelled at me."
Mikasa raised an eyebrow but didn't hurry to turn around. It crossed her mind that Levi, who had shot out the back door, barely clearing the low fence by the meadow in front of the base, was clearly not himself. But to such an extent…
"Can you imagine it, Mikasa?"
She turned because his voice seemed to die down involuntarily. Armin stood with a hand pressed to his forehead, the ill-fated rag clenched in the other. His cheerful-sounding laugh seemed to shatter against the stone and wooden walls. Yet his eyes were closed. For a moment, Mikasa thought he got what he deserved for poorly performing his duties, but…
Had Levi ever shouted before? Run? Fallen?
"The world, it turns out, is changing, Mikasa," Armin smiled but didn't raise his eyes. He grabbed the rag and started scrubbing the spot Levi had pointed to with gusto. Though there were obviously no stains on it.
Mikasa went out into the yard. Despite the cold morning, Eren, having worked up a sweat, pulled off his shirt. The axe worked quickly but not powerfully. It left splinters and small logs that needed finishing only for formality and accurate count. He was focused, though Mikasa was hard to fool—an early wake-up could make him surly. Despite years of military training rhythm, this was the one thing that still bothered almost every member of their squad. So mornings were sullen and silent. Breakfast usually consisted of bread and cheese, but even that could cause morning jitters as everyone came to the kitchen for their allotted piece. Practically everyone was in a foul mood.
Levi himself was in a foul mood from the morning. That's why his voluntary confinement under the lofty pretext of personal hygiene was one way to figure out what the catch was. What the catch was with himself.
If Hange weren't here, Mikasa wouldn't have noticed her.
Would he have snapped at Armin himself? Unlikely.
Breathe me — Sia
Usually, the entire act of hygiene took ten minutes at most.
Today, Levi had been sitting with the cooling tub of hot water for fifteen minutes already, chasing a few thoughts in circles, not even starting to wash.
The soap had gone to the bottom, but retrieving it was difficult due to the water's temperature. Ackerman decided not to risk any extremities.
How stupid. To burn oneself.
The tiny room was right behind the huge stove where dinner was cooking. Mikasa hadn't hauled firewood to last an eternity for nothing. The room temperature was climbing and slowly suffocating him in its embrace. Levi lowered his head.
Sweat trickled down his skin, which undoubtedly infuriated him. The very idea infuriated him. The room infuriated him. The high wooden bench with a piece of cloth spread on it infuriated him. The small window, through which the sun barely shone as it set behind the thicket, infuriated him. The drowned soap infuriated him. He infuriated himself.
If today everything were different, then likely neither the firewood nor the stove would be ready. They likely wouldn't have even ventured into this godforsaken corner at all.
If Hange had died, they likely wouldn't have activated the guillotine at the Walls. They would have spent decades more exterminating those monsters and losing, and losing…
If Hange had died, she wouldn't be cooking in the kitchen today, fending off Sasha under the booming chatter of Jean and Connie.
If Hange had died, then probably command of the Scouts would have fallen to him.
Could he have handled it? He could have.
She would have been awarded a medal posthumously. Probably Historia would have cried upon receiving the dry note from someone sitting behind the Wall. Likely no one could have survived another loss. Another loss would likely have finished off the whole bunch for good.
Because he felt the end would have been very near.
An incredibly long, thick-as-churned-butter path, ending somewhere by the sea, where you could barely glimpse the horizon. But this damned island was a grave for everyone dear to him. And it would have been a grave for Hange.
He plunged his hand into the tub, fingers fishing for the white rag.
Why Hange?
Why not Mikasa, not Jean? Not Sasha, not Eren.
And finally, not himself…