Attack on Titan Fanfiction – The Stowaway: Chapter 12

Warning: PG-13. Contains depictions of violence.

What Had to Be Done

“Still think we should go through the darting operation, ma’am. I feel it’s our best chance…”

“No, Captain Kraft. There’ll be a thirty-five percent failure rate, and that will prove to be fatal in a situation like this,” Mikasa deadpanned. 

“Thirty-five percent, ma’am?”

“First saw it when I was just out of the academy. And then time and again in different situations.” 

She told the young captain of the time when they were fledgling soldiers, only fifteen, and had to deal with titans. Armin’s plan was to draw the titans into the supply tower, blind them with rifles shot at point blank range from a cart, then have seven of the best in the team to come down from behind and slit the back of the titans’ necks. Of the seven, two failed in their mission. 

“Another soldier and I were able to come to their aid and kill the remaining two titans,” Mikasa reminisced. “But a recovery plan like that was possible only because we were dealing with pure titans. With the amount of explosives on these suicide bombers at present, there’s no room for failure.”

“But ma’am, what if you fail? What if you die?” the young captain asked, with all the insouciance of youth.

“Fighting Ackermanns don’t simply roll over and die, Captain. We only die when we deliberately choose to die. The only thing that can forcibly kill us is one of the Nine Titans. They no longer exist.” 

Saying that made her feel ancient. She was only in her twenties but already a veteran amongst her troops. More than half of them were teenagers fresh out of boot camp. How many of them volunteered willingly, and how many were dragged here kicking and screaming through universal conscription?

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that in situations such as this, veterans like her had to do the heavy lifting.

“Permission to speak freely,” requested Kraft.

“Out with it.”

“I know you’re the greatest fighter on the island…”

“One of the greatest,” Mikasa corrected. “Don’t forget the other Ackermann in the Special Forces.”

“…one of the greatest fighters on the island, but you’re not invincible, ma’am. I’d rather we risk some of our commandos getting blown up than have you go it alone and shoulder all the risk by yourself. We can’t afford to lose you.”

The colonel smiled to herself. Of course Kraft would say that. She was one of Mikasa’s protegees in the Royal Marines. Too youthful to head a battalion, the young woman still needed her superiors for strength and guidance. 

“You like numbers, don’t you, Stella?”

“Numbers speak the truth, ma’am…”

“Did you know that the brain requires two-tenths of a second simply to understand simple visual stimuli, and another two-tenths of a second to command muscles to react?”

“I suppose so…”

“Air Force Marshall Hange Zoe and the Ackermanns have studied reaction times extensively in controlled settings. The numbers I just gave you are for ordinary soldiers. Tests have shown that us Ackermanns react with more than ten times as much speed as the regular soldier.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, Colonel. You are known to dodge bullets at close range.”

“Technically speaking, any soldier should be able to dodge a bullet. That’s because the amygdala can process an auditory signal in fifteen milliseconds. How far do you think a bullet goes within that duration?”

“About ten yards, I suppose.”

“That’s about right. But all the amygdala can do is trigger a reflex and wait for the conscious mind to catch up. Our studies have shown that a regular soldier usually needs a quarter of a second to register the tracer coming towards him and another quarter of a second to instruct his muscles to react, and then half a second to actually move out of the way. So how many yards away should a bullet be for a person to literally dodge it?”

“I reckon, about 800 yards?”

“Correct. For a regular soldier it takes about a second for the conscious mind to move the body out of the way. But in the case of us Ackermanns, the time lag between the amygdala and the conscious mind has been drastically shortened. Usually it takes me two milliseconds to react. Not to mention, my amygdala can process an auditory signal in just one millisecond. My reflexes are so quick I can dodge a bullet at close range.”

Captain Stella Kraft was staring open-mouthed at Mikasa. “So it’s true, what they say about Brigadier Ackermann, that he killed thirty titans in the Forest of the Giant Trees, in a couple of minutes?”

“Yes. I’ve seen him dodge bullets with my own eyes. One time he was cornered by a squad of military police, back in the day when the Scouting Regiment were going up against the old order. Not even his own uncle, a fellow Ackermann, was able to shoot him dead.”

“So you two really are invincible…”

“As fighting machines, yes. Whatever flaws we have during a fight are due to our personal opinions or unresolved feelings getting in the way.” Mikasa hoped the young captain would feel better now that she had been given numbers. 

“Why are you telling me this?” asked her protegee.

“In hopes you’ll demonstrate more confidence in me,” explained Mikasa. “You’re a leader, Captain Kraft. If you’re antsy, your troops will pick up on that vibe and become antsy, too. Anxious troops tend to panic. That’s the last thing we want.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kraft conceded, “but I still think what you’re about to do is a bad idea. You’re not just a supersoldier, you have great symbolic value, worth more than a platoon. If anything happens to you…”

“Listen, I may not be the best combat commander, but I strive to be. On the battlefield the Marines depend on me to carefully analyse every tactical situation, to think under pressure, and most importantly, know when to sacrifice my troops, or lead them by personal example,” Mikasa told her. “I’ve decided this is such an extraordinary situation requiring me to take matters into my own hands. I expect you to support my decision.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

They stood there from their vantage point, watching as the forest was bathed in the orange glow of sunset. Soon enough, the signals came. The Marines had found the bombers’ camp.

“It’s time,” Mikasa said. “Let’s go.”

“Um, Colonel? Would you like to leave a message for Admiral Kirschtein? Just in case, you know…”

Her boss chuckled softly. “Don’t give me that face, Stella. My husband and I will be cooking dinner together at home, after the war is over.”

The young captain gave her a sideways glance. Before putting out the ice burst stone portable lamp she had with her, the eerie light it emitted touched her boss’ face. The look in Mikasa’s eyes made Kraft flinch, for she saw sorrow, infinite sorrow. And pain for a thousand years. So. Much. Pain. 

But it was momentary, as fleeting as dandelion seeds amidst a tempest. Kraft blinked and there stood the world’s strongest Marine, once again with that cold, impenetrable, impassive look on her face.

The Marines surrounded the enemy camp and waited for nightfall. The night was on their side, with only a sliver of a new moon dull enough not to give away their position. Even the gloomy clouds were cooperative. It was pitch dark when the colonel made her move.

“Be careful, ma’am,” Kraft said.

“Will do,” Mikasa replied, before disappearing into the darkness.

Crouched in sniper position, Kraft covered her eyes with Hange’s primitive night-vision device. She held her breath, waiting for bombs to detonate, anticipating the worst. But no sound came from the bombers’ camp.

How many minutes passed? She was supposed to keep count, but her mind went blank when she heard her boss’ flat, emotionless voice. The expression on the colonel’s face was completely inscrutable. She was covered in blood. Everyone in the vicinity stared at her, jaws dropping to the forest floor.

“I’m fine, not my blood,” Mikasa told them. “Get the bomb disposal units,” she ordered her aide, Layla Graf. “Start digging a mass grave for thirty seven children,” she ordered Captain Kraft. “I’m off to the waterfall at three o’clock…to clean myself up.”

In the wee hours of the morning, Kraft and her troops came to clear the enemy camp and what they found made their blood run cold. On the blood-soaked ground, in a circle, were the bodies of thirty two children. What was most likely their commanding officer was a teenager of about fourteen, also dead. Farther off the circle were the bodies of four other children who kept watch. Every one of the children had their throats slit, at a precise angle and depth. The whole thing was done with such incredible speed and precision not one of the bombs went off. 

“How could she do what she did? There wasn’t a single sound!” one of the privates tasked with digging whispered to his comrade, who was busy with a shovel nearby.

“And she didn’t even use any lights. It was pitch dark!” his comrade whispered back.

“That only means one thing. She can see in the dark!”

“And move like a phantom panther, in the dark!”

“She’s a monster!” 

“Pure and simple, no other explanation.”

“It must be true, everything they say about her…”

“Shut the fuck up, privates!” Captain Kraft barked at them. “This ‘monster’ you speak of just saved your sorry asses. Shut your trap and keep digging.”

When Mikasa came back from the waterfall she had sheathed her swords and cleaned up the blood from her body. Graf hurried over to her with a blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. 

“Let’s send out a report, shall we?” the colonel told her aide.

Graf nodded, “Right away, ma’am.”

Kraft stared at her boss, the intrepid commando, stupefied by her perfect composure. Mikasa’s tone was neutral, her face was neutral, completely devoid of expression. 

So this is how it will go, the captain thought, unnerved but awed at the same time. Business as usual. The colonel, who, just now, single handedly saved the lives of hundreds if not thousands, will give nothing away. 

Captain Stella Kraft decided that she, too, will do everything she can under her power to keep a similar neutral expression on her face, giving nothing away, making sure nothing about this incident was heard by anyone, except for the Marines in the same battlefield who had to bear witness to it.

---

But rumour travels fast. Even before Marley agreed to cease all hostilities, the story of Mikasa single handedly eliminating an entire enemy platoon with two swords came out in the open. The information leak was engineered by Mikasa’s own aide-de-camp, Layla Graf. Only fifteen and fresh out of the military academy, she possessed a preternatural wisdom. 

Graf decided that instead of trying to hide what happened: the fact that Marley committed a war crime by deploying child suicide bombers, and that their Paradian Royal Marines colonel had to kill them all, everyone was better off knowing only the partial truth. 

What that truth ought to be would be better controlled by her, and not one of the freaked out privates in the battalion. So she deliberately told one of the village gossip mongers about Mikasa’s feat: killing a group of enemy soldiers with two swords. Graf left out the ‘child suicide bombers’ part. 

Yet despite this attempt to control information, truth evolved into half-truths, and half-truths metastasized into lurid legend. 

Throughout the island Mikasa became known as The Colonel. Yes, with a capital T. The colonel who killed not thirty seven but three hundred and seventy enemy soldiers with a pair of swords. A talebearer who gloried in sensational news thought it was more fun to add a zero to the actual number. 

As the rumours about her circulated throughout the population, Mikasa became more and more glacial and distant. The frosty demeanor she put up as a shield around her became part of her macabre reputation. The Ice Queen, said her admirers. Lethal Killing Machine, said her detractors.  

It was only when the war was officially over, when the Marines could finally lay down their weapons, when the Army were finally able to get out of the trenches, when the Air Force could start surveying what was left of their decimated fleet, when the Navy were finally able to sail their sailors home, that Mikasa could let down her facade. 

But only in front of one person. 

At their reunion she collapsed, nearly insensate, in her husband’s arms, and after a great deal of agonised weeping, through wracking sobs that shook her entire body, she told him everything. In grisly, excruciating detail, she told Jean of the evil act she had to commit in order to protect her precious commandos.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing a thought or two in the comment section below. Your comments give me life and are a real source of encouragement. xoxo, hana

References

Junger, Sebastian. (2011). War (Reprint ed.). New York, NY: Twelve.

I’ve borrowed heavily from the stats in Junger’s book, and made changes to the numbers to reflect what I feel is the stronger physical capabilities of Eldians in general and the freak-level capabilities of awakened Ackermanns in particular. The problem was that I also had to account for the difference in firearm technology/sophistication between WWI and the 21st century. So I doubt any of my doctored stats will hold up in real life; it’s all fiction here. Having said that, Junger’s book has been an eye-opener and very educational. I recommend it to anyone who, like me, has no combat experience and are wondering what it’s actually like to be a soldier in a contemporary war.

Winters, Dick. (2008). Beyond Band of Brothers: The War Memoirs of Major Dick Winters (Reprint ed.). New York, NY: Dutton Caliber.

The leadership quote by Mikasa is from Dick Winters (Easy Company, 1/506 Airborne Infantry Regiment, WWII): “I may not have been the best combat commander, but I always strove to be. My men depended on me to carefully analyze every tactical situation, to maximize the resources that I had at my disposal, to think under pressure, and then to lead them by personal example.”

Next – Chapter 13: When Sleep is Terrifying

Back – Chapter 11: Who Goes There