Attack on Titan Fanfiction – On the Battleship: Chapter 3

Shy Girl

Warning: PG-13. Contains depictions of violence and self-harm.

Mikasa hung her head. “For so long I’ve been obsessed with Eren. Everyone saw the way I…People around me felt it was unhealthy, my obsession with him. When I look back now, I guess I was too intense, too zealous and overwhelming. This other man, he witnessed all of it. It would be a major turn-off for any man. I…I don’t want to put him in a strange position, to feel obligated to return my feelings…”

“Does he know how you feel about Eren?”

“He’s perceptive, so astute. He knows…and I think he understands…and I feel he still likes and respects me, in spite of it.”

“Isn’t that the most important thing, respect?”

Mikasa nodded. “I think so, too. But…I don’t want to make him uncomfortable or weird around me. It would make everything weird, Mrs Kiyomi, if it turns out he doesn’t return my feelings. I shall melt in a puddle of embarrassment…”

Ah, youthful hearts with all their anxieties and self-esteem issues and shyness and apprehensions and doubts and hesitations. As it should be, Kiyomi thought.

“But I don’t care anymore!” Mikasa exclaimed suddenly. “I really don’t care whether they love me back. I just want to love them, on my own…”

“You mean Eren and this other young man?”

“Yes, Mrs Kiyomi. I love them both, but I don’t feel bad about it because it’s not the same. It just isn’t. Can you understand me at all?” And then, something struck her. She wanted to know the phrase for saying something very important. “How do you say ‘I love you’ in Hizuruan?”

Kiyomi smiled. Ah, love. In the end, we humans are all about love: having it, giving it, wanting it, dying for it. 

“When a girl tells a boy she loves him, she often says, 好き suki meaning ‘I love you’. But it’s also the same word used for liking something, such as 食べるのが好き taberu no ga suki, meaning ‘I like to eat’,” she explained.

There was a layer of dust on the side of the ship, so Kiyomi used her fingers to write on it. 

“There is another word, 愛 ai, meaning love. There are many kinds of love. 家族愛 kazoku-ai or familial love, 友愛 yū-ai meaning friendship, 恋愛 ren-ai meaning romantic love, 夫婦愛 fūfu-ai for conjugal love.There is 兄弟愛 kyōdai-ai meaning brotherly love, the love between siblings, or fraternal love. We also say 郷土愛 kyōdo-ai, one’s love for their hometown. There is 動物愛 dōbtsu-ai, describing an emotional attachment to animals and pets…”

“What about love between humans in general, or love of humanity?”

“We say 人間愛 ningen-ai for human love, and 人類愛 jinrui-ai for love of humanity.”

“And self-love?”

“自己愛 jiko-ai means narcissism.”

“If 兄弟愛 kyōdai-ai means brotherly love, what about love between sisters?”

“We substitute the word 姉妹 shimai, meaning sisters. But it could also be read as kyōdai-ai.”

“So if it’s an older brother and younger sister?

“兄妹愛 keimai-ai, a combination of 兄 ani or big brother and 妹 imōto or little sister. But may also be read as kyōdai-ai.” 

“So for an older sister and younger brother it would be 姉弟愛,” Mikasa surmised, writing down the characters with her finger on the dust.

“Shitei-ai, that’s correct,” Kiyomi replied. She was impressed. The young woman learned fast, writing down the characters with the correct order of strokes.

“And what about the love between teacher and student, or a leader and his followers, that kind of love?”

“We have a word, 敬愛 kei-ai, which is a combination of love and respect. It means to hold someone in great esteem.”

“Like having a high regard for someone?”

“Yes. It could also mean to worship or adore or revere.”

Something was deeply moved inside Mikasa. All this talk of love. So much love. A resolve grew inside her.

“I will tell Eren, Mrs Kiyomi. I will tell him that I love him. I will tell him: ‘I love you’. I will tell him that he is my love and my reason for living. I will even use the words you taught me: 好き。大好き。愛している。Suki, daisuki, aishite iru. I will tell him that if he cares for me at all, then he must stop this mass slaughter.”

Kiyomi simply nodded.

Mikasa turned her face toward the sky, raven locks blowing in the wind. She had made up her mind. 

Yes, that is what she’ll do. She’ll tell Eren the truth and nothing but. She will tell Eren that she loved him, that he is her everything. Somehow, despite all the hurtful words Eren has said to her, deep in her heart she knew Eren cared for her.

And she will ask, she will plead, she will beg him. If you care for me even just a little, then you must stop this massacre at once. 

Because she wouldn’t be able to live with Eren’s crime. 

He might be able to manipulate the memories of most Eldians, but not hers. For some reason, she, Mikasa Ackermann, remembered everything. Everything. Just now, the characters that Kiyomi had written and erased in the dust, she remembered every single one of them perfectly.

She remembered every song her mother sang to her, even when she was only an infant. Her favorite was Akatonbo, the one about the red dragonfly. Now that she knew the deeper meaning of it, her resolve became stronger than ever.

She could never let all those little children die, the newborns and toddlers sleeping in slings on the backs of their working mothers, their big sisters. How many of them slept peacefully at this very moment? How many of them grew tired of chasing dragonflies or picking mulberries in the forest, and were now on their afternoon naps? Millions? Billions? She had no idea. But she knew there were many of these little ones: pure, perfect, innocent souls.

Unless she threw away every once of humanity inside her, she couldn’t just let them die.

But she couldn’t kill Eren. He was too big, too powerful, too invincible. And she herself would rather die than kill him.

So she will do the only thing she can do. She will tell Eren that she loved him, more than life itself. Then she will put a sword to her belly. She will tell him, if you care for me at all, you will stop the full rumbling.

And if Eren refuses, then she had her answer. She will plunge the sword deep into her belly and twist it, hard. And then plunge it deeper, twist it in the opposite direction, harder this time.

She will have someone else ready–someone with nerves of steel, like Levi, perhaps–to take up another sword and then finish her off with a beheading. 

Kiyomi had told her of seppuku, the self-inflicted, ritual disembowelment of men who have brought shame and disgrace upon themselves or their families or clans. It was part of the strict code of Bushido, the way of the warrior. 

If they can do it, so can she.

For she was the descendant of a long line of elite warriors. Not just warrior blood from her Ackermann side, but also warrior blood from her Azumabito-Nagamatsu side. 

If she can’t do it, no one else can. She had to do it.

Because she would never be able to live with the shame of watching and doing nothing as millions upon millions of innocent little children were killed. 

What was happiness if its foundations lay on the dead bodies of a hundred million infants? It would be a false happiness. A stolen happiness.

She will be plagued by nightmares for the rest of her life. Of her shame. Her guilt. Her helplessness. Her lack of resolve.

But then, if Eren decides to stop, what happens next? The island will still be much despised, their enemies will still be bent on destroying them. How to solve this impossible dilemma?

She had no answers. But Armin did. She was sure of it. When push comes to shove, Armin will come up with the answer.

For wasn’t that what Eren himself had declared, on that fateful night over the roof in Shiganshina, when he put Armin’s life over Erwin Smith’s? He predicted that it was Armin, and not himself, not the commander or anyone else, who will save the world.

Armin will save the world. 

But she, Mikasa Ackermann, will have to stop Eren first. If it took seppuku to stop him, then so be it.

Kiyomi gazed at her young relative, took in the flickering emotions on her lovely face: love, terror, resolve, fear, courage, sadness, and a deep, indescribable grief. 

If this young woman’s mother were alive today, what would she have done? What would she have said? She didn’t know, but she wanted to say some words of comfort. 

“You write beautifully, Mikasa,” she said, gazing at the word 愛 love that was written in the dust.

“I made sure it looked like your handwriting,” the young woman said, smiling a little.

“What kind of love do you feel, for this other young man you told me about?”

“Oh, it’s definitely ren-ai, romantic love. Pure and simple. With him, it’s so easy, so natural. It just feels so right…,” she explained, before adding with a flush on her cheeks, “If he and I have a child together, then there will be kazoku-ai…”

Speaking with Kiyomi made things clearer. She understood herself even better now. Her feelings made more and more sense:

Eren was her god. This other guy, he was her man. Or at least, she hoped he would be. 

Eren belonged to the universe. This other guy, he belonged to her. Or at least, she hoped he would, in the not-so-distant future.

“I’m sure this young man shares the same feelings, too.”

“There was that one time in the countryside,” Mikasa mentioned in recollection, “when Eren and I and the rest of the gang were building railroad tracks. It was before we went to Marley. On our way home, Eren started talking about whom to pass on his titans to. I volunteered, of course. I wanted to keep him alive in my memories.”

The ship they were on was going as fast as she can, cutting through waves, churning foamy waters.

“But this guy I told you about, he contradicted me immediately,” she continued. “He said that I was too important. That I was a bridge between Eldia and Hizuru. That I was an Ackermann and no one knows what happens when our kind tries to titanize. He said there were too many reasons I shouldn’t become a titan shifter. Instead, he volunteered himself, in that arrogant but lovable way of his…”

“He loves you,” Kiyomi noted.

Mikasa glanced at her, then modestly lowered her long eyelashes. “Do you think so, too? Armin said the same thing.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me, though, so it’s hard to know. Sometimes I think I’m only imagining things…”

“And there are other episodes like this, when he shows or tells you how much he’s thinking of your well-being?”

“Yes! Many times, ever since we were cadets.”

“I know for sure it’s love then. So, this young man, is he handsome?”

The smile the young woman flashed would have lit up any room. “Oh yes! He’s handsome. And tall, taller than average. He’s got light hair, the opposite of mine. He has beautiful hazel eyes, and…”

Someone clears his throat from behind her. “Um, sorry to interrupt, but…”

It was Jean Kirschtein. Mikasa freezes, slack-jawed. Her face turns a deep crimson. Kiyomi notices and understands immediately.

“Oh no, you weren’t interrupting anything. Mikasa and I were just talking about the sights and sounds of Hizuru.”

“Well, apologies for cutting it short, Mrs Kiyomi, but Mikasa is needed below deck.” 

He turns to his comrade, saying, “I’ve asked the technicians to show us the ropes on steering and handling this ship, in the event something untoward happens to any of them. Also, I’ve asked them to show us the plans for the aircraft, and give a lecture on how to pilot it. You know, just in case. We need your abilities.”

“Okay,” she replies.

Jean turns to Kiyomi and explains, “Mikasa has a tremendous amount of rapid learning ability. She sees or hears something once and remembers it perfectly.”

“Ah.”

“Did you know she topped our class in the military academy? She bested four titan shifters, plus me, and a friend of mine who’s really clever.”

“It’s always an honor to hear that an Azumabito shows great academic and physical aptitude,” Kiyomi remarks. She smiles at them both.

The two take their leave. 

Jean throws the young woman a sidelong glance. “You’re red all over, Mikasa. Not feeling well? Have you got a temperature?”

“No, I’m fine,” she answers crossly, before asking in a suspicious tone, “How long have you been on the deck?”

“What? Just arrived.”

“Did you hear any of my conversation with Mrs Kiyomi?”

“Not a word. Don’t have bionic ears like you do.”

“You swear?”

“I swear!” Jean replies. “Geez, what’s with you?”

“Nothing!” 

“Alright then.”

Kiyomi watches their descending backs. They looked good together, both so tall and majestic. 

If and when they become a couple, she’ll invite them to Hizuru for their honeymoon. The best time would be spring, she mused, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, decorating the landscape with their delicate pink petals. Underneath the blossoms, people would have a picnic for hanami or flower viewing, appreciating the fleeting nature of beauty. 

Oh, and she’ll make sure they get to sample the best sushi in the land. Raw fish? Why, it tastes wonderful!

That’s it for this story. Thank you so much for reading! Please please please take a moment to say hi in the comment section below. It’s so lonely and discouraging to find out I haven’t got any readers. Your comments are the only way I know my stories are getting read. Even just one sentence from you will give me the encouragement I need to keep on writing. Feel free to use a pseudonym and dummy email address. Please say something—anything at all—just to let me know you’ve finished reading. Comments do mean the world to me—THANK YOU. xoxo, hana

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Note

Above illustration is an ukiyo-e woodblock print, Yoshitsune ki Gojohashi no zu (1881) ‘Illustration of Yoshitsune record at Gojohashi bridge’ by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi