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bluebird722 · 1 year ago

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Attack on Titan: Beyond the Tree on That Hill

Summary: All it takes is love to rebuild and grow in the aftermath of devastation.

Rating: T

Main Pairings: Jeankasa, AruAni

Author’s note: I know the finale aired a few months ago, but this idea has been stewing in the back of my head since then. However, I experienced a personal loss before the new year, so I figured that now was the best time to share this with readers who either loved or hated the finale, but may have wanted more on what happened to the characters.

Also, I don’t primarily ship the main pairing of this series of drabbles, but reading fanfiction and studying fanart has made it grow on me. I’ve even linked certain paragraphs to inspiring fanart. Either way, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed thinking of it.

Special acknowledgement to: @azulmarina3, @poroverso, @itslieutenanthawkeye, @smallblip, and @k-lionheart-art and @marshmallow-rainbow139!

***Attack on Titan: Beyond the Tree on That Hill***

It was bittersweet, how everyone had come to the final burial site. No matter how they felt about Eren before the rumbling, while they were still new to the cadets, the atmosphere felt peaceful the way that he would have wanted it. The day that the ambassadors had returned, they woke up and made the pilgrimage to the giant tree where he liked to rest as a child.

Each one had brought flowers to lay down, and they stood in silence for about two hours. So much had changed since the Rumbling, for better and worse. International relations, so far, seemed to be growing, but the Yeagerists were still trying to gain more power and influence within the island. The economy was regrowing stronger than before, but so many people were still struggling to make ends meet.

When the group agreed to return to their hotel, Mikasa joined them but spent the afternoon on the balcony to enjoy the sunshine while the others napped. She didn’t want to think at that time about the past or the future; she really wanted to enjoy the present and how many lives were still rebuilding. Below her, many children were still laughing and talking as they ran errands for their parents, and couples, old and young, walked together, holding hands. It was a sight she cherished and envied.

Then she sensed a physical presence behind her, who walked onto the balcony. Though his clothes under his suit were unorderly, Jean looked more refreshed than when he stepped off the steamboat. He offered her a glass bottle of water and asked if he could sit beside her. She more or less allowed him to.

The calm moment between them ended in two hours, after he put his hand on her bare wrist under her sleeve. She pretended not to feel surprise and confusion at this touch but looked down anyway. Jean lifted the corner of his mouth. “You know that you don’t have to share your feelings,” he said, “but you don’t have to hide them anymore.”

“I know,” she said so quietly that he barely heard her. When the sun began to set and the wind picked up, he took off his jacket, which he put around her shoulders so she didn’t have to retreat back inside. The interior was so warm that she almost began to sweat. Then he brought her downstairs for dinner and helped her order food for the others when they woke.

***

Although Mikasa considered it “courtship”, it certainly was unlike how she imagined a test for lifelong companionship. In that time, he formally introduced her to his mother, who embraced her despite her soft features hiding nearly a lifetime of stoicism and trauma. She listened to every story–funny and embarrassing–that his mother remembered from his youth. He never pushed her to laugh, but he did like to say things to make her smile. They compared their own methods of chores, such as laundry, and elected to follow whichever seemed the best, even if it was more time consuming. Over time, he rediscovered his interest in sketching and spent free time charcoaling the wilderness or the neighborhood. She liked to watch over his shoulder and happily posed for him one sunny afternoon.

They had stayed outside longer so he could capture in charcoal as much of the sunset as he could. Mikasa shared with him the embroidery from her childhood that she thought about picking back up, whether or not she had children. He knew that talking about her youth before her parents’ murder was still painful for her, and she shared the full story of how Eren saved her.

His thumbs wiping her cheeks were so tender that she slowly stopped weeping. She hated the sad look in his eyes. “Remember,” he said, “you should miss him. Don’t ever feel like you have to pretend that you do not.” He took a deep breath. “I know that I’m not him,” he added, “but I would give you anything in the world so you know that you are loved and deserve–”

“Loved?” she repeated back.

Jean went still. “Yes,” he said after a long pause. “I…I love you. I’ve felt that since we were in training…”

Slowly, Mikasa leaned closer and kissed him. Jean’s chest had an exploding sensation. He could not believe that he was actually kissing her, nor that it was much superior to how he fantasized. She delicately put her hand on his shoulder, and he cupped her cheek in one hand so they wouldn’t break apart as the sun disappeared for the time being.

Six months into their romantic relationship, they rented an apartment together but did not progress to anything more than kisses and strong hugs. Regardless of fatigue or cold, Jean was always glad to heat up tea for her late at night or sit outside on the balcony with her when she missed Eren too much. It was strange, for him, to see her allow herself to become more vulnerable, like the warrior that she was slowly showing the “human” side of her. He did not speak unless prompted; he memorized every dream that she recollected to him and every memory of Eren that she almost forgot. Somehow, Jean knew that this was part of her healing and over time trusted her with his own memories, what he missed from his boyhood and even incidents in the cadets that he did not want to remember but could not forget.

It wasn’t him, she knew, but they became closer than she had been with the boy who liked to pick fights with the one who saved her life, and the man who sided with her as she took down her idea of a life partner.

When they eventually married, only Jean wore his military uniform; Mikasa decided, after all, that she did want to wear a white gown. White, after all, was the color of purity and renewal, people said. She wanted to be a symbol of positive change and remind everyone that good was growing like a flower. Historia and Pieck styled her hair to resemble the former’s and clipped her bangs to her crown. Annie handmade her bouquet with wildflowers, and Historia’s daughter carried the back of her gown on her way to the small chapel.

Yes, I wish it would have been Eren, she thought to herself. I would have wanted nothing more than to meet him inside and pledge the rest of my life to him. She looked down at the flowers she clutched and felt pressure grow in her ears. But it’s not him.

Then the doors opened, and she reluctantly looked up. No, the man waiting for her inside did not have dark hair or wide eyes, nor was he the one who saved her from slavery and gave her the scarf that she secretly wore around her waist under the gown. She took a deep breath and made her way forward.

Suddenly, she felt an invisible presence at her left, like Eren had appeared out of nowhere and was guiding her to the woman-obsessed soldier ahead. Then Mikasa smiled and let her eyes water. She clutched her bouquet and timidly smiled at Jean, who looked so different from the brash boy she met at the cadets. When she reached his side, she saw how hard he had been weeping.

They held hands as the minister pronounced their lives together, to love and support each other in the best and worst of times, regardless of life’s challenges. Jean kissed the back of her hand and wiped a tear from her cheek when they were done, and the guests followed them outside to present themselves as newlyweds to their fellow Eldians. Mikasa tried not to think of Eren but instead that someone else loved her enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her.

After a private lunch with lots of soft music at Nicolo’s restaurant, Jean carried her to a wagon and did not mind that she held his hand with her head on his shoulder without saying anything. Even though she smiled every time he kissed her temple, Mikasa struggled to embrace how her entire life was changing.

Then the wagon stopped, and Jean hopped out first. As Mikasa started to step out, he picked her up in his arms and carried her around. In front of the wagon was a log cabin with a firepit up front, a dusty pathway, and a river just down the hill. Jean smiled at the dumbfounded look on his bride’s face. “You never specifically said how you wanted your ideal house to look,” he explained, “but I know that you prefer nature and peace, so…this is the ideal retreat.”

He carried her inside and did not set her on her feet. Everything reminded her of her childhood homes, from the kitchen to the water pump, and even the two bedrooms that resembled her home with her parents and then with Eren and his parents. She pushed her fingers to her mouth and shook her head. “Thank you, Jean. I…I will enjoy it here.”

They cooked, ate dinner, and washed the dishes together smiling, but when it was time to go to bed, Mikasa paused at the doorway into their bedroom. It occurred to her then why they had a second bedroom in the house, which Armin and their surviving comrades had built in secret, with Jean’s supervision.

Jean put his hands on her waist. “What is the matter?” he asked.

Mikasa bit her tongue, unsure. “I…” She put her hands over his. “I don’t want to do that…tonight.” She held her breath. “Someday, but…not now.”

Jean himself was tired but had secretly hoped to make the marriage, according to ancient tradition, “official” that night. He was slightly disappointed, but he knew that trying to convince her would offend even a strong woman like Mikasa. Instead, he kissed the back of her head and walked around her into the room. “We will not then,” he said. “I promise that I will wait until you are comfortable.”

Smiling, Mikasa kissed him good night and let him wrap her in the blanket and his arms.

***

The two months succeeding the wedding were some of the happiest and most relaxed of their lives. Their comrades frequently visited and brought up good and bad memories of their training days, as stupid and clueless young soldiers, until dark. If Jean was enjoying a glass of scotch with a book he was reading, Mikasa liked to sit beside him, rest her head on his shoulder, and read along. On days where she observed over his shoulder his artistic talent, he lay on his back so her face hovered over his; he liked to look into her eyes and feel her fondle his facial hair. When his mother came to see their new apartment, she took Mikasa’s hands and said, with tears in her eyes, “Thank you so much for making my child happy. I have never seen him this…content before, even when he was a little boy.”

Still, unlike his wife, Jean began having traumatizing recollections and crying in his sleep. It started one night a week until it grew to three, sometimes four. Mikasa woke to his muffled cries and had to shake him out of his slumber, or Jean battled alone while his wife slept and soaked through his sleepwear. Embraces and walks outside did not always help, but sometimes she had to make him remember and let it go. Jean told her everything except one dream where Eren haunted him for “stealing” her from a lifetime of longing and yearning. Otherwise, it was recollections of discovering Marco’s body, of watching Armin being abused while posing as Historia, and even of Hange’s death in flames. Sometimes weeping in the arms of his wife consoled the hotheaded young soldier within him, particularly because the young woman whom he admired was the one to comfort him.

Within their first two months of marriage, their union was soft and harsh. She smiled when he embraced her in bed but often wept for unknown reasons in the bathroom. Each time, her husband closed his eyes and tried to imagine how his and Eren’s lives would have been different if Jean had been less antagonistic. Jean wouldn’t regret marrying her, but did he unknowingly rush her into marriage before she fully recovered? Even before he asked her to marry him, he vowed that he would love and care for her more than he ever did for anyone else in his life.

Jean was silent at dinner that night and went to bed early. She joined him later and knew that he was feigning sleep. He’s a good man, she remembered telling herself when she finally agreed to marry him. It is obvious that he thinks that he is failing as a husband, but he’s not.

“Jean,” she said softly.

Immediately, he held himself up on his elbow. “Yes?”

Mikasa hesitated, and then took a deep breath. “I…I’m ready.”

For a while, Jean was still. Then he brushed part of Mikasa’s hair from her face and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back but then put her hands on his shoulders. “Wait… Could you please sit up?”

Jean pushed himself back and bent his knees, unsure if she would change her mind. Her silhouette hesitated, but then she crawled over and, after shuffling, he sat on the bed cross-legged, and she sat on his lap, her legs around his waist. After gentle kissing and a deep breath, she pulled him back with her onto the bed. His facial hair scratched her chin, and he whispered sweet things to her between kisses.

***

At last, Jean was done chopping wood. He was in the best shape of his life, but his arms and upper back were burning from overwork, and he was thirsty for cold water. Even though winter was months away, he wanted to have as much wood ready for when the cold did arrive and the family retreated to the cabin. Jean wiped his forehead and entered the log cabin.

Mikasa was at the table, peeling potatoes and slicing vegetables much slower than normal. She seemed lost in thought, so Jean decided not to disturb her. As he took off his shoes and rolled his head, she did look up and smile at him. After he splashed cold water from the pump onto his face and swallowed a mouthful of water, he kissed her cheek and sat beside her. “We are good with wood for now,” he said. “And plenty for when it is too cold to go outside.”

Mikasa nodded along and continued prepping the night’s meal. Jean grabbed a knife and chopped the potatoes that she had peeled to mix with the brown skins. Cutting food relaxed him and took his mind off the bad dreams that were not as reoccurring anymore but still made him reluctant to fall asleep. Now, more than ever, he truly worried about them going away.

Just then, Mikasa stopped and stared at the table. Jean assumed that she was thinking about Eren again, but then she made a face of discomfort. He set down the knife and gently put his hand on her arm. “Mikasa? Are you…all right?”

Mikasa left her mouth open for a moment. “Y–Yes,” she hesitated. “It’s nothing.”

Jean didn’t believe her, but he continued to cut potatoes anyway. Then, about ten minutes later, she made the same face and hissed. Just as Jean lifted his head, Mikasa smacked her hand onto the table and grit her teeth. Her husband set down the knife and stood up. “Mikasa? What is giving you pain?”

Mikasa hissed through her teeth and then slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were wide with anticipation and dread. “Jean…I may be in labor.”

At that moment, Jean knelt down and moved his wife’s legs in his direction, and put his hands under her arms. They counted to three together, and she shakily stood up on swollen feet and ankles. Her lap and chair were wet with fluids that she somehow did not feel. Jean swung her arm over his shoulders and helped her into their bedroom, where she heaved on her slow way into the bed. “Bring the doctor,” she gulped. “The–The baby is moving fast…”

“No,” said Jean. “I am afraid to leave you all by yourself.”

Mikasa gripped the edge of the mattress. “Jean…you don’t know anything about babies or how they’re born…”

“No,” he agreed, “but what if I leave and you fall off the bed? You could hurt yourself and the baby…”

Then another contraction hit, and she hung her head. Jean helped her to her feet again and helped her walk around the room throughout her labor. After about two hours, her breathing became more hitched, and she could no longer hold up herself.

Jean lowered her back onto the bed and pushed their pillows under her back. Then he swung her feet onto the bed and pushed up her skirt. “Get the doctor,” his wife whined.

“No, I’m not leaving you alone,” said Jean. “What if the doctor is not there? I couldn’t leave you alone in all that time–”

“Jean…” She threw back her head and clenched her eyes closed. It hurt Jean to see this strong woman fall vulnerable to the pains of childbirth, but he knew that she would recover. She wasn’t going to let this pain bother her for the rest of her life. He took a deep breath and ignored the sweat all over his back.

Although Mikasa complained that he should have left for professional services, Jean refused and coached her throughout the afternoon. She gripped her thighs so tightly that she left bruises everywhere, and her eyes stung from the sweat on her forehead. Then she gave one final push and opened her eyes when Jean began laughing and crying at the same time. In his hands he clutched a naked newborn, coated in fluids and wailing. Mikasa burst into tears because for some reason, she felt happy–tremendously happy, like she never thought she could feel. Jean skipped out of the room on shaky legs and came back clutching a knife to cut the umbilical cord and a blanket with which he swaddled his firstborn.

“It’s a boy,” he sobbed with a wide smile. He curled up to Mikasa and kissed her cheek, and then studied his son’s messy face. “Thank you so much.”

“No,” said Mikasa. “Thank you…for reminding me that hearts can heal, and life goes on…and can be better than you believed.”

Jean stared at her in silence, and then smiled as they leaned forward for another kiss.

***

Jean sipped from his glass of scotch and looked out of the corner of his eye to the corner of the balcony. Mikasa sat in the corner against the wall post and beamed at the chunky baby who was one week away from his first birthday. They had just laid down flowers at Eren’s grave and showed their son to where they planned to make yearly visits. The baby’s nostrils flared every time he breathed, and he alternated between opening and closing his mouth in his sleep.

Eren, Jean thought to himself what he would have liked to directly tell his son, whose hair was black like his mother’s, it had been busy months preparing for your arrival. Your mother and I knew that you would change our lives, but we didn’t know how much. Now…I cannot imagine how my life could have been better. It’s like you are my reason for living. All of this that I went through up to now…was to have you born.

Jean smiled. And I had no idea how much I could love until now.

Jean studied the way she observed baby Eren’s ear and the way Eren outstretched his arms over his head. Did I ever imagine that I would name my son after someone to whom I was quite antagonistic? Jean thought to himself. Absolutely not.

Then he observed deeper how happy the once solemn and bitter woman was. Of course, she would mourn for her best friend every day, but she was also reclaiming her life before her parents were murdered. She was starting to let go of her traumas to give love to the little boy she helped create, and whom she loved. Jean felt a little satisfied that he had a role to play in her joy, and that over time he stopped having nightmares. Was he the most content that he had ever felt and that he wouldn’t trade anything now for what he had hoped for? Absolutely.

***

Eren did not grow up spoiled; his parents taught him chores as soon as he became a better walker, and he had to obey other adults as well, whether it was to stop raising his voice, help his grandmother clear the table, or not say certain words around Connie and Armin. He was not allowed to wear his shoes indoors nor have too much warm water in the bath.

Nevertheless, Eren always received the best tomato in the market, was allowed to pick out the clothes and shoes that he liked when he wore out what he had, never went cold in his bedroom, and had enough time between chores and bedtime to play and read his favorite stories. By the time he was three, he craved adventure and enjoyed trips to the log cabin, and was more excited about learning to ride a horse than other changes in the house…

***

“Jean.” “Jean.”

Jean groggily woke up because of the poking on his back. Was it little Eren again? Did he sneak out of his room and slide between his parents to wake them up because he could? Maybe it would be best to sleep through it.

“Jean.” Another poke. “It’s baby time.”

Immediately, Jean woke up and turned around. Mikasa was still lying down, but her eyes were wide with anticipation. Even in the dark, he saw a growing puddle on her side of the bed. Panic seized him, and he pulled himself out of bed. “Oh my gosh, Mikasa,” he panted, “are you in pain, does it hurt, is it different than–”

“No, I am good,” she whispered. “Just grab the doctor for me, and then tell your mother to take Eren outside to play when he wakes up.”

Jean hastily nodded and kissed her forehead. “But what about you?”

“I can pull myself up,” she whispered right before she made a face of pain. “Just…hurry…”

Jean kissed her again and ran out of the room to grab his coat and pull on his shoes. It was happening again, and he wanted it to be better but just as precious as with Eren. This time, his mother slept on the couch to better assist with housekeeping and to keep her grandson distracted from the confusing yet undoubtedly frightening reality of childbirth.

He ran out of the building, mentally asking Eren, if he could hear his fallen comrade, to please be there again for the laboring woman and to keep mother and child safe.

***

The two horses galloped as fast as they could, as if running from a great wildfire. They darted along the pathway, creating clouds of dust on either side, and rushed to the tall building. Paradis was still slow to catch up with modern technology, but it would have been nice to operate an automobile. A life–two lives–could be in danger, and the horses knew of the urgency.

By the time they reached the apartment building, Connie and Armin had dismounted from their horses and tied them to the post. They ran up the stairs, and Connie pounded on the door. Within two seconds, Jean–his eyes bloodshot and his face tear-streaked–opened the door. “It’s a girl,” he cheered.

“A girl,” Armin and Connie whispered at the same time. They quickly removed their boots, hung their jackets, and followed him into the cabin. Jean knocked on his bedroom door and waited for the soft “come in”. Inside, Mikasa was propped against bundles of blankets with Eren at her side, his head against her arm and staring at the wrapping of blankets that she cradled. Little Eren lifted his head and smiled when he saw the visitors. Armin immediately knelt down and embraced Mikasa, who looked exhausted but was overjoyed at another healthy birth.

“I have a little sister,” Eren said in disbelief. “She hasn’t opened her eyes yet, but she has Dada’s hair.”

“She sure does,” Jean said with a smile. He reached forward, and Mikasa handed him their daughter. “Would you like to hold her?” he asked the guests.

“Absolutely,” said Armin.

“Of course,” said Connie.

Jean smiled at the baby’s pouting lips and then approached Connie. “We named her Sasha.”

The excitement on Connie’s face automatically faded into sorrow as soon as he took the newborn into his arms and looked into Sasha’s face. She clearly resembled her parents, but in that moment, he missed his old friend–someone he considered his twin–so fiercely that it wasn’t fair that Sasha didn’t live to get married if she wanted to. She didn’t get the chance to decide if she was going to have children or to see their home at peace. Of course they wouldn’t have named their baby after her if she had survived, but it was wrong that Sasha had to die for her legacy to live on.

Connie started crying and couldn’t stop himself. Tears fell from his eyes as quickly as Armin’s and Mikasa’s over Sasha’s dead body, and fell onto baby Sasha’s forehead.

“Connie,” said Jean, Armin, and Mikasa at once, but Connie couldn’t hear them. He seemed to lose his hearing as he mourned his friend again. He kept crying onto Sasha’s cheeks until the whining newborn finally opened her eyes, and then Connie’s eyes cleared. Her eyes were the same shape and color as her mother’s. Sasha squinted at the strange man studying her, and then she lifted the corners of her mouth and trapped her tongue between her gums.

Connie sniffed and blinked back more tears. “Hi, Sasha,” he whispered. “I am very glad to meet you.”

Armin walked behind Connie and peered at her over Connie’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, little one,” he whispered. He reached forward and tickled her covered stomach. “You’re going to grow up into an amazing woman–just like your namesake.”

“Let’s just hope that she doesn’t eat everything in sight like a wild animal,” Jean, whose eyes started watering again, chuckled.

“Or steal food from other people,” Mikasa added with a smile. A confused Eren cocked his head with a “huh?”. The men, however, chuckled and marveled over Sasha until she started to whine. While her mother fed her, Jean led his son and their guests into the other room to help prepare a vegetable omelet–based on how his mother cooked for him–to bring to his wife, who would still be sore for a few days. Jean’s mother returned from the market with more fresh meat, and Armin and Connie stayed until twilight.

***

Mikasa held Eren’s hand up to the headstone and let him put down the handful of flowers. She smiled at where her greatest friend rested in peace. “Hello, Eren,” she said softly. “I thought I would visit on your birthday. We’re going to eat how you liked your deer, and then Armin will come visit and talk about how you stood up for him from bullies.”

Little Eren nodded as he waited for his mother to finish and stared at the etching in stone. He wondered what to say. Then he introduced himself and told the headstone the games he liked to play, his favorite stories before bed, his favorite stores to visit, and how good he was at riding horses. Even though he didn’t see himself becoming a soldier, he wanted to grow up to be strong and smart like his parents and Eren. (Jean, on the other hand, stayed behind to clean up Sasha, who had just vomited over his arm, was sweating through her tiny dress, and needed changing. When he was done, he carried her up the hill and, once again, expressed remorse that they did not get along when they first met.)

“Dada,” said Eren as the family held hands on the walk home, “why did you and Mama’s friend fight all the time? You always tell me that it’s not nice to make people sad.”

Jean and Mikasa, who carried Sasha in her free hand, stopped walking then and pondered how to respond. Then Jean said, “Mikasa, why don’t you go ahead and take the baby home? We’ll catch up soon.”

“All right,” said his wife. She readjusted the baby on her hip and entertained her with the scarf that Sasha liked to play with. Then Jean picked up his son and sighed.

“Well, Eren,” he started as Eren put his hands around Jean’s neck, “you might not understand until you’re big like I am now, but sometimes you will wish that you didn’t do or say some things earlier in your life.”

Eren looked confused.

“So when I first met Eren, your mama’s friend, he…he had gone through some bad things when he was young, like things that I hope you never have to go through. And I didn’t know that. I just thought that the things he wanted to do and the way he acted were silly. We had different reasons for why we wanted to join the army.

“Also…” Jean chuckled. “He and your mama were very close, and I thought that she was so beautiful like she is now. I was jealous that they were very close and that she cared about him so much. I wanted her to like me.”

Eren nodded, though Jean knew that he didn’t entirely understand. He kissed Eren’s head and hugged him tightly. The boy was silent on the way home, where Mikasa was washing vegetables in the kitchen after she sat down Sasha for her afternoon nap. “Go help your mother with dinner,” Jean instructed. “I’ll grab more meat from the market.”

Eren spent the afternoon kneading dough into one large piece and then smaller strips. While the bread baked, he peeled the carrots and turnips with a dull knife for his mother to cut them into small pieces. She had him wipe the flour from the counter so she could begin cooking. Eren alternated between observing her to learn and checking on his sleeping sister.

“Mama,” he said on the counter, “Dada said that he really liked you when you first met, but you really liked Eren, and it upset Dada.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Mikasa without looking up.

Eren tilted his head to his left. “Did you love Eren? Like, did you want to marry him? Is that why we see him every year?”

Mikasa paused and wondered how to reply. Eren worried that he asked mean questions, so he took her wooden spoon and moved around the sizzling produce. When Mikasa kissed his head, he stopped and let her take back the spoon.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I…I did love him, very much. I loved him in many ways. He was like a brother to me, even though he was my best friend and we lived together. And…I also loved him, like I wanted to be alone with him and…and not talk to anyone else.” Mikasa deeply inhaled so she wouldn’t cry. “I didn’t think then that I could get married, but if–if I did, and I could marry anyone…I would have wanted it to be him.” She rubbed her nose and wiped her clean hand on her skirt.

“I will always love Eren,” Mikasa admitted, “but I also love your father. He showed me that you can still love after a loss, but that’s not why I love him–it’s much different than that, that you may understand when you grow up. And I love you and your sister more than anything else in the world.”

“Do you wish Sasha and I–do you wish your Eren was our dada?” asked Eren.

Suddenly, Mikasa looked sad. “No,” she said after a long pause. “If I was with Eren, you and Sasha would not be you. You would have been different if your father was not Dada.” She stroked Eren’s cheek. “You and Sasha are amazing as you are now, and I–”

“What’s amazing about Sasha?” interrupted Eren. “She’s a baby. She can’t do anything.”

“Don’t interrupt, Eren,” said Mikasa. “She will not be a baby forever. She will grow up and do amazing things, as will you.” They took turns mixing the vegetables and checking on the bread until Sasha began whimpering. Mikasa trusted Eren not to let the carrots and turnips burn and quickly changed and fed the baby, who fell back asleep.

Jean returned with a hunk of wild boar, which he cooked to the point where Eren’s stomach growled. Sasha woke from her nap and eagerly flapped her arms in delight. Before she could cry at the table that she wasn’t tasting from where the delicious smell came, Eren laughed and distracted her by feeding her mashed carrots. Watching Eren spoon feed the baby was always a highlight of Mikasa’s and Jean’s day, followed by his trying to change her alone without getting kicked and entertaining her with wooden toys from their grandmother.

***

After years, Annie finally “got it” and married Armin. She kept her hair down but wore a “flower crown” that Historia’s daughter suggested, rather than a veil. She wore a white jacket over a long dress with a short train that Sasha held up on Annie and her father’s stroll to Armin. Mikasa thought that he had not looked as happy in such a long time. He never looked away from his bride’s face. Their kiss was slow and then deeper, and soon Annie began crying as hard as Armin.

Armin and Annie did not want a public ceremony, so they insisted on a private dinner party, which Nicolo happily catered at his restaurant. Reiner told only the best stories of Annie in her girlhood that made the entire party laugh, and Pieck and Connie recalled adventures as ambassadors of peace. Jean even let Eren sip from his glass of wine, which he disliked.

After Armin and Annie cut the cake and fed each other bites, they cut slices for everyone else. Then Annie took apart her bouquet and showered the party with pedals before Armin carried her to the nearby hotel for their first night together.

On his and his family’s way to spend the night in Jean’s childhood home, Jean thought, for the space of a second, that he saw Hitch, still devoted to the idea of war, somewhere, and she made eye contact with him as well. It was probably someone else with the same hair color and similar wardrobe. Nevertheless, he held Eren’s and Sasha’s hands a little tighter.

Some of the tension went away when they reached where he grew up, and his mother already opened the door before the family reached the front door. The couple let their children run over to their grandmother, who loved them and whom they loved. Like every visit, she had cooked up a juicy omelet like her son had devoured as a little boy for everyone to taste, bought for Sasha a pretty dress, and sewed together a unique cardigan for Eren.

She had kissed all over Mikasa’s cheeks, having adored her like a daughter, and called her son “Jean Boy” to make the grandchildren giggle. At dinner, she listened to Eren and Sasha talk over each other about the wedding until they started yawning. Then their parents put them to bed in Jean’s old room, where she had framed a professional drawing of her son as a chubby toddler, and caught up with the grandmother until late in the night. Jean went to bed reflecting on the suspicious face that he caught eyeing his family but confident that he and his wife would educate the children on self-defense and how to keep themselves safe.

The next morning, the children woke up to the smell of delicious omelets that kept them full until dinnertime. They spent the remainder of the day playing on the floor, reading child-friendly books from around the world that Armin collected for them, and watching people under the balcony.

Mikasa watched in silence until Jean wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. She leaned back against his chest, ready to delight in the overwhelming joy that he gave her that filled their lives and would continue to grow…

“Could I…talk to you in private?” he whispered.

Mikasa knew it was bad because Jean rarely hesitated. With one hand over his, she said, “Eren, Sasha, why don’t you see if your grandmother needs help? She’ll appreciate two little helpers.”

Eren and Sasha immediately took to cleaning up after themselves and walked over to their grandmother. Jean led Mikasa into his old room and quietly told her about what he saw when they were leaving the wedding reception. Mikasa’s eyebrows rose, and then her eyes narrowed. How were they to talk about this to the children, especially since Eren was about to start school and perhaps with children whose parents believed in the Yeagerists? Jean’s greater concern, however, was the children’s well-being. Of course, almost everybody knew that Eren and Sasha existed, but what if a Yeagerist tried to use them against their parents?

Mikasa put her hand over his. “We will talk about it tomorrow night, when they are asleep,” she promised him. Then they stood up and helped their children set the table for dinner.

“Hey Dada, did Gramma ever make cow for you when you were little?” asked Eren, who was biting on a strip of steak thicker than he could chew. “You should have seen how she does it! She says that you flip it over and keep it at a low heat but a longer time, and it helps if you don’t want it red in the middle.”

Jean was half-listening, his mind still worried for his children’s safety, but he nodded with what his son just learned. “Some people like their meat red,” he agreed, “but some people will get sick if they eat it.”

“How?” asked Eren.

“We will tell you after we eat,” Mikasa took over. “What else did you learn with Gramma?”

Eren and Sasha babbled that the same lesson–low heat, long time–applied to vegetables as well, as Gramma showed the difference using green cabbage that were steaming on the table. Jean met his mother’s eye, but she focused more on her daughter-in-law’s plate, full of portions slightly larger than usual and even odd combinations…

“Sasha, will you eat your potatoes?” Mikasa complained. “You don’t know where we will find food for your next meal! And trust me. Going hungry does not feel good!”

Groaning, Sasha slowly shoved a spoonful of potato chunks into her mouth, glaring at her mother the entire time. Jean had to hold his breath so he wouldn’t laugh at the irony—of all the foods that little Sasha ever ate in her life, potatoes were the one food she hated.

***

It was strange that the Rumbling had ended years ago. So much had happened since then, but few things pleased Historia more than to see how everyone had seemed to grow closer. They had all gathered at her orphanage as both a reunion and a private place to talk about international relations without the fear of eavesdropping.

Everyone had scattered between the picnic table, helping Historia bring out the food and treats, and within the fence, watching Eren and Sasha play with the orphans and observing how Armin never seemed to take his hand off his wife of five month’s back. They only stopped to eat, and the other ambassadors complimented how polite Eren and Sasha were to offer to collect the plates and utensils to take inside. Nothing made Jean feel prouder that he and Mikasa were parenting very well.

Once Eren and Sasha had resumed playing with the orphans, Historia resumed their important topic of discussion: the rising threat of the Yeagerists. The army wasn’t just growing stronger; it had also garnered new weapons that could kill thousands of people at once.

“But does this mean that they’re ready to initiate war at this point, even against the same countries that provided these weapons?”

“No, Historia said, very specifically, that the Yeagerists are not planning an attack yet,” Annie reminded Pieck. “But…it’s getting to the point where she’s thinking about sending someone in to infiltrate the Yeagerists and see what they have access to.” She cast her eyes wistfully to the bench on which she sat. “And if they gain too much power…how will the rest of the world’s population look at us if part of us are trying to…you know, execute permanent annihilation of civilizations, and another part are trying to promote peace?”

Pieck turned her head to ask Mikasa something, but then forgot when she saw a look of discomfort on Mikasa’s face. “Mikasa?” she said. “What is it?”

Mikasa grit her teeth and took a deep breath. “I–I’m fine,” she heaved. “Just…could you find my husband for me, please?”

“Wha–” Then realization dawned on Pieck’s face. “Oh my, that’s–you’re in labor.”

Mikasa shushed her. “No, please don’t. I don’t want my children to hear and get worried. I just…” She closed her eyes. She didn’t want her children to see or hear her prepare to give birth. Otherwise, Eren would be reluctant to marry and condemn his wife to the pain of childbirth, and Sasha would be terrified to risk her life and go through labor.

Pieck quickly left the picnic table and ran over to Jean, who was standing with Reiner and Historia, mindlessly talking. She whispered into Jean’s ear, and he faced her with shock. He hurried to his wife and knelt beside her. “Are you all right?” he hissed. “I didn’t think the baby would come so early–”

“N-Neither did I,” she grunted.

Jean caught Pieck whispering to the other adults. Historia ran over and helped Mikasa to her swollen feet. Her water had already broken, and her cheeks were flushed. “Annie and the men will keep an eye on the children,” Historia reassured the couple. “I talked to Pieck–she’s going to bring the midwives over to your house.”

Mikasa braved a look over her shoulder and fortunately, her children were still playing. “Historia…” she exhaled.

As Jean helped her into the wagon, Historia glanced back and forth between the remaining party and the couple. “How long did it take you to have your babies in the past?” she asked.

“Four hours with Sasha, Eren was about five,” said Mikasa. Historia nodded and said that, if they were all right with it, the siblings could spend the night at Historia’s and go home after breakfast the next day. The couple reluctantly agreed.

The wagon arrived at the apartment just before the midwives arrived. By then the couple were in the bedroom, and Jean was trying to hold Mikasa steady as she drank from a glass of water. The midwives confirmed that she was ready to give birth.

Holding her breath, Mikasa took off her scarf but clutched it in one hand so that Eren would still be with her once more in one of the most important moments of her life.

***

The rooster woke up everyone in Historia’s daughter’s room. Even though the adults had woken up earlier during their time in the cadets, it was still an unwelcome disturbance in their states of peace. Armin yawned as he sat up and scratched the side of his head. Eren stirred in the sleeping bag beside him and then opened his eyes. Across from them, Connie was slow to wake; Sasha, curled up in his lap, rubbed her face and stretched her arms over her head.

Eren immediately sat up. “Mama,” he whispered. He kicked himself out of the sleeping bag and stomped his way to his sister. “Sasha–” He grabbed her wrists and pulled her off Connie’s lap, ignoring her whines. “Sasha, is Mama–”

“Eren,” hissed Armin. “Don’t do that.” He pushed himself up and walked out of the room, coming back with Historia. She made the children eat with the orphans first and then allowed Connie and Armin to take them back home. The children hesitated out of fear for their mother’s well-being until Armin took Eren’s hand and Connie put Sasha on his hip.

Jean’s mother opened the door. She must have arrived right after the midwives left. “Good morning, children,” she said with the love that she had for her darling grandchildren. “Your parents are awake. Come meet your new baby brother.”

Eren sighed in relief. Even Sasha was excited and grateful. They followed the older woman to the parents’ room. She softly knocked on the door and said in a softer voice, “Jean? Mikasa? The children are awake.”

“Come in,” said Jean.

Jean’s mother opened the door, where Eren and Sasha saw their parents curled in bed. Both were smiling down at the tiny hand reaching from the bundle that Mikasa and Jean shared, and they smiled even more when they looked up at their older children. Eren let go of Armin’s hand and made a beeline for his father, who picked him up and sat him on his lap. Connie set Sasha on the foot of the bed, and she crawled between her mother and father. Mikasa kissed her children’s heads and showed them the baby’s face. He had Jean’s eye shape but Mikasa’s eye color. Eren saw their father in the baby’s nose and lips.

Cautiously, Sasha put her hand on her baby brother’s chest. Eren gently kissed the baby’s ear. Jean beamed at his children displaying affection to the newest addition to their family; Mikasa looked relieved that they were embracing their new roles as big brother and big sister.

***

Most of the orphans had grown up at this point but still stayed close to the orphanage to assist with childcare and maintenance in between deciding how to spend their adulthoods. With Historia’s permission, they let some of the children ride horses around the lawn. The younger ones gathered around Eren, who enthusiastically taught them a game that seemed to be a combination of tag and hide and seek.

“He’s everything like his namesake, just without the temper and the hothead,” Annie said at Jean’s side, startling him. On his hip he balanced young Sasha, who had just recovered from an ear infection but still complained that her head hurt and that her nose was runny. Annie smiled at the little girl who looked up curiously, as though she had never seen the former Warrior before.

“Does this make you want little ones of your own?” Jean innocently asked. “Or…do you prefer observing them rather than making them a full-time job?”

Annie looked up at his eyes and then back down to Sasha sticking her finger in her red ear. “Maybe one day,” she said, “but only if Armin wants to–and I know how not to raise them, like my father did.” Her eyes flickered in sadness, but she chuckled when she focused on the running children.

Jean felt a tug on his pant leg. Little Marco stared up at him. His eyes were wide with a question that he could not ask. Jean touched his head, which sprouted black cowlicks that reminded him so much of his late friend. “Yes, little guy?”

“Dada, can I go…” Marco mumbled, still learning his words.

“Of course,” said Jean. “Eren! Will you come here and let your brother play?”

Eren whined but told the orphans to hold up, and he ran over to the hill. “All right, I got him,” said Eren. He picked up his brother, who wrapped his arms around Eren’s neck and dangled his tiny legs. “Come on, Marco. You’re getting heavy!”

Jean chuckled and watched Eren carry Marco halfway through the field before eventually giving up and setting him on his feet. Marco toddled in Eren’s shadow on his way to the older children. Some of them made faces that they had to slow down for a toddler, but the others cheered on Marco and his unsteady steps.

Jean sat down beside Annie, with Armin joining in and pulling his wife to sit between his legs. She leaned her head against his shoulder and laced her fingers between his. Jean discreetly watched the couple and patted Sasha’s back as she made noises in the back of her throat. Mikasa joined him later and watched Eren pretend to run slower than he really was so Marco could have a winning chance.

She remembered Carla insisting that her own son was not going to join the army and become a soldier. It was the first time, perhaps, that she had seen the kind woman so angry that she yelled at her child for something other than misbehavior. Even though Mikasa tried to parent her children from what she remembered of her own mother and Carla, she wondered how she would react if one of them expressed a desire for a career in the military. Now more than ever, with the Yeagerists growing more influential, it was both more and less dangerous compared to when the Titans were their main enemy.

Mikasa snapped out of her musings when Jean called over Marco and saw that he needed changing. As Jean carried Marco to a more private place, Mikasa cradled Sasha in her arms and thought more about surrendering Sasha or one or both of her brothers into the army. Remembering that her children were named in honor of fallen comrades made Mikasa reluctant to imagine them in uniform. Sasha traced with her finger the brand on the back of her mother’s hand, and Mikasa knew that, even though the children would not carry on her maiden name, they could still choose if they wanted to brand themselves as a reminder of the family legacy.

***

Eren was eight when the nightmares began.

That day, Mikasa and Jean took their children to the graveyard to have little Sasha put flowers on her namesake’s grave on her birthday and stayed longer than intended when her namesake’s parents arrived. They marveled over how big the children were and told them that Kaya was engaged but still active with the other orphans at the farm.

That night, Marco helped his mother bake bread and Jean read to his older children until dinnertime. Then Mikasa ran Sasha a bath and told her funny stories about her namesake and all the trouble she got herself into but all the fun that they had together, even though they had different personalities. Jean lured Marco to sleep as Mikasa had Eren and Sasha read out loud until the children’s eyes drooped. Then their parents tucked them into bed.

Eren dreamt that he and his brother and sister were running on a sunny day, but they didn’t know where. He just wanted to challenge them over who was the fastest, knowing that he would win because Sasha’s skirts slowed her down, and Marco’s legs were still short. The three of them laughed and ran up a hill until they saw a giant tree in its entirety.

Immediately, Eren stopped running, and so did Sasha and Marco. It looked exactly like the tree that their mother and father took them to visit every year, where his mother had buried his namesake, but it could not have been that tree; he would have realized that they were on the hill that they had to climb up to see the burial tree. Even though part of him wanted to turn around and go home, the other half was curious as to why this tree was unlike the one that he visited yearly.

Eren held Sasha’s and Marco’s hands on their way further up the hill to investigate the difference between this tree and the special one. Neither of them spoke. They craned their necks for any suspicious branches or tree roots. The hairs on the back of Marco’s neck stood up; Sasha had an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.

Then, on the other side of the tree, was a hollow much bigger than even their own house. It was completely black. Nothing seemed to move inside. Still, Eren was interested.

“I don’t want to go in,” said Marco, who seemed to suspect his brother’s curiosity.

“Me neither,” added Sasha.

Eren tugged on their hands. “Come on, don’t be scared,” he said. “Nothing will hurt you. I don’t think anything even lives there.”

“You don’t know that,” said Sasha, “because you can’t see it to be sure–”

“Well, then, how will we know if it is something’s habitat if we don’t see for ourselves?” Eren impatiently interrupted. “Come on!”

He pulled them to the tree and into the hollow. It was so dark that he could not see his own hand. The ground at his feet was soft. Curiosity grew, and he wanted to see what was inside, if anything.

Eren didn’t realize that he had let go of his siblings’ hands until he slipped and fell down a long downward tunnel. As he felt bruises form on his face and legs, the screams of Sasha and Marco grew fainter and fainter until he splashed into a cold pond.

Eren held his breath on time, but his body was in such pain that he couldn’t move his arms. The stinging would not go away. Carefully, he opened his eyes, which didn’t hurt under the cold water, but he couldn’t see anything. Eren willed himself to move his body despite the pain and slowly moved his arms over his head.

Suddenly, he felt a gentle trickling alongside his spine that offered a mild comfort. Eren tried to push himself up, but the grip down his backbone only strengthened and quickly sent uncomfortable sensations throughout his body. His eyes throbbed, and everything turned white, and his limbs tugged, and his jaw ached, and he didn’t know if he was dying or becoming some strange creature, but he knew that he did not like like and wanted to get out–

Eren’s eyes flapped open. It was dark! Panicking, he sat up ready to scream, but then he saw a window and soft moonlight peering into the room. Terror seized him. Was it a dream or did it really happen? Eren shivered and looked down, but it was just his sleepwear wet with sweat. If he had fallen into water, he most certainly would be wearing dry clothes, whether he dressed himself or his parents did.

Eren steadied his breathing and worried that he woke his brother and sister. Luckily, both were still deeply asleep: Marco had his thumb in his mouth, and Sasha was unaware that her doll had fallen to the floor.

Quietly, Eren left his bed, put the doll back into Sasha’s hand, walked to the kitchen, poured himself water, and shakily retreated to his room. Closing the door made him feel both safe and scared at the same time.

The following night, he was still walking through the tree, but this time he had dragged his brother and sister with him. Marco whimpered to himself, and Sasha clung to Eren’s arm as he walked them into oblivion, into the path of a pale blue glow, one that attracted him and gave him the sense of power, strength, a lineage of immortality…

“Eren! Eren!”

Then Eren’s eyes opened. It was his father, who looked terrified. He was still in his room. To his left, his mother consoled a hysterical Marco. Sasha clutched Mikasa’s skirt and also looked at Eren with fear.

Eren sat up when Jean let go of his wrists and looked around. “What happened?”

“You were having a bad dream,” said Jean. “Your brother woke us up, and you were crying and moving around in your bed like you were running for your life.” He pushed Eren’s wet hair from his forehead. “You’re safe, son. I know that you probably don’t want to talk about it–”

“No, no!” sobbed Eren. He shook his head so fiercely that his bangs slapped against his wet face. “I don’t want to remember it! Dada, I’m scared!” He wiped his wet eyes. “It wasn’t a human, but I’m scared that–” He wept again.

Jean picked up Eren and carried him into his parents’ room, gently shushing him and rubbing his back. Mikasa then tucked in the other children, reassured them that Eren would be all right, and kissed them good night again. She came back to her room and helped Eren change into clean clothes and mop his sweaty face and back. When Eren had calmed down, he tightly hugged under his mother’s ribs. “Mama, I was scared. I had a dream that I put Sasha and Marco in danger, that I saw this scary tree like the one we go to every year, and–and I got big and mean and killed so many people–”

Eren silently wept again. His concerned mother and father sensed the full details of his nightmare but gently reassured him that he was smarter than to have done something like that, and of course that he knew that killing was wrong.

Still, Eren didn’t look convinced. He had told them how scared he was of the Yeagerists in town and that they were trying to recruit some of the older schoolchildren into dropping out of school to join their cause. Even though Eren knew that what they wanted and believed in was wrong, it caused fights in school and pitted children against each other; he lost some good friends and worried that the Yeagerists would try to convince him to be like his namesake and undo everything that his father worked hard to promote. Many times, Mikasa and Jean contemplated taking their children out of school and sending them abroad for their education, but in the end did not want Sasha and her brothers to be too far away from home.

“I don’t want to be a bad person,” said Eren, “but I don’t want to be a bad person who doesn’t know it. I want to be like you, Mama, Dada, but I don’t want to make things worse than they already are!”

“I know, son,” said Jean, “and we are both so proud of you and your sister and brother for how good you are. You three are good children, and we know that you’re scared.”

Eren silently nodded.

“Dada and I will talk about it,” said Mikasa. “We want to discuss some good ways that you can deal with it if you feel pressure to join and not have to get hurt.” She kissed his cheek. “Try and get some sleep, Eren. We can talk about this with Sasha and Marco tomorrow before we go on the trip.”

Eren tried to feel better but was still uneasy. He didn’t want there to be an attack at school that the Yeagerists pretended was not their doing just so they could get little boys and girls to join them. Even though that never happened, he heard Dada talk about some countries where that did happen– “inner terrorism”, Dada said it was. He didn’t believe in their cause but knew that he couldn’t fight them alone, and that hurting other people to stop it would make it worse.

***

The horses galloped across the grass, at a distance that seemed unfathomable to the cadets years ago. They ran past sights that they had never before seen. For the human inhabitants of the island, such a sight would have seemed imaginative but impossible. It was so large compared to the nature once confined within the walls.

Eventually, the humans on the horses halted them. In front was the sand and the ocean that stretched on for miles. It was even more beautiful than they had remembered the first time that they laid eyes on the blue saltwater.

Armin was the first to dismount and waited for Eren to let go of his father’s waist, then helped him down. Connie jumped onto the ground and pulled Sasha off his horse’s back, and Mikasa told Marco that he could open his eyes, having clung to his mother’s front the entire ride. When Marco saw the ocean, his jaw dropped. “Mama…” He pointed to the ocean as if she had never seen it before. “Look!”

Mikasa smiled and carefully took him off the horse so that he didn’t have to look away. “Yes, Marco,” she whispered. “This is what the ocean looks like, not just when your father boarded that ship.”

By this point, Eren and Sasha had stripped down to their underwear and ran to the ocean until they were up to their waists. They splashed at the surface and flicked water at each other. Meanwhile, as Connie and Armin kept watch over the children, Mikasa and Jean took off Marco’s shoes, held his hands, and walked him along the wet sand. Marco squealed when the cold wave washed over his feet, but then he giggled and waved his arms. “Again, again!”

Sasha cartwheeled in the smaller waves, and Eren scooped up handfuls of sand, which he threw at his sister. Sasha protested and flung a fistful of wet sand at his chest.

“Sasha! Eren!” cried their parents. “If you continue to do that, you won’t be allowed to pay in the ocean anymore!”

“Sorry!” they apologized simultaneously.

Armin waved them over and showed them how to find seashells and small conches in the wet sand. The siblings spent the afternoon trying to carry as many in their arms and looking for bigger sizes. Armin only pulled them away from large jellyfish, and Connie chased the children into the ocean, and then let them chase him back to the beach, laughing the entire time.

When lunch was ready, Mikasa carried Marko to the blanket, and Eren and Sasha rushed to the dry sand. Armin gave them towels to dry off, which they wrapped around their bodies like capes, and Connie helped them fill their plates with warm meat and vegetables to put on top of their bread. Sasha and her brothers ate quickly, eager to go back to the water. Marco admired the conches that his brother and sister found.

Only after lunch was over did Jean let Eren and Sasha grab his hands and pull him back to the ocean, where he fell to his knees and let his children climb up his back. Eren and Sasha giggled and held on while he spun in circles. Marco held out his arms and whined, but Mikasa set him on her lap and watched her other children try to climb higher onto Jean’s shoulders. Jean pretended to drop Eren, and then mimicked throwing Sasha farther away.

Armin joined her after cleaning up and wanted to cry. Even though the ocean had always brought him joy, it always occurred to him the series of events that led to massive loss of life and then the death of his best friend. Of course he adored the little Kirsteins, but did his best friend, who loved him like a brother, really need to initiate a war with worldwide civilizations for little Sasha and her brothers to exist? Even if Eren knew that Mikasa and even Jean were the happiest that they had ever been, would he still have gathered followers to promote his beliefs even after his death just so their children could grow up safe? The Yeagerists were still gathering power in the island, and Armin worried that the world was more dangerous to little Marco and his older siblings than the threat of Titans.

Marco crawled out of his mother’s lap and tried to run his hands over Connie’s growing buzzcut, but he didn’t want to pull himself off his knees. Connie, chuckling, lowered his head for Marco’s curiosity. Armin watched Marco move his fingers and babble incoherently, wondering if his work as a peace ambassador was enough for him to ensure that the next generation of Arlets would understand the sacrifices that his fallen comrades had made and still not worry for their lives.

***

Mikasa knelt down to the tree roots and smiled at the headstone. “Hello, Eren,” she said softly.

Behind her, Eren and Sasha impatiently held the flowers to put on the headstone and tried to leave their mother in peace with the first person she truly loved. To Eren’s left, Armin held his son’s—named after his paternal grandfather—hand, and Annie put her hand over where she felt her second child, hopefully a little girl, kick without mercy. (Jean, on the other hand, was at the cabin, helping Marco fight a fever.)

Mikasa shared that her children were fast runners and wanted to go back to see the beach. They shared all the chores and were very good readers. All three of them took singing lessons at school, and Eren and Marco took to heart Jean’s advice that women like men who could cook. (Of course, that was not the reason why Mikasa married Jean.) Eren stood up for classmates from bullies without getting into physical fights, Sasha was an excellent archer who could hit a target even while riding a horse but still hated potatoes (and was sometimes caught sneaking hers to an unsuspecting brother), and Marco had beautiful handwriting and started losing his first teeth.

Then little Eren put down the flowers and excitedly said that the year before, he and Sasha asked Dada to take them with him on his journey to other countries. After careful discussions with Historia and the other ambassadors, they agreed on the condition that Jean would be responsible for where to put the children during confidential meetings. Mama stayed behind with Marco and little Arlet, and Eren and Sasha ran around the steamboat to explore the inner workings, ate fresh seafood every day, and giggled when Pieck pointed out the mirror where Jean studied his appearance to look more attractive. Even their cabins and the water for bathing were warm.

Upon arrival to Marley, the ambassadors bought an ice cream for the little Kirsteins to share, caught up with Yelena, and left Eren and Sasha with Levi, who had since opened a tea shop but treated the children to lollipops. Even though the Warrior Unit heard the story before, they laughed when Connie, Armin, and Jean recounted to Jean’s children their first trip to Marley and their unfortunate first interaction with alcohol. Eren and Sasha howled until their stomachs hurt.

It had rained that night, so Reiner wanted to cancel his plans to show everyone all of the trees that Gabi and Falco had planted but gave in when everyone insisted, nonetheless. Jean made sure that Eren and Sasha wore their “chore’s clothes” as they inevitably played in the mud.

The best part, according to Eren, was that as soon as Reiner introduced the children who were coated in wet dirt to Gabi and Falco, Sasha greeted them by throwing a fistful of mud at Gabi’s face. Jean was too horrified to confront her. Reiner, however, laughed hysterically, to Connie’s and Armin’s confusion. “At last, Sasha has her revenge.” (And no, Gabi was not mad but laughed at the little girl. She even lent Sasha a clean nightgown while her and Eren’s clothes were in the wash.)

They went to so many countries and explored so many things that Eren and Sasha were exhausted on the trip home and slept for two whole days in the cabin. When they did wake up, they went back to chasing each other around the steamboat and learning how it worked, and tired themselves sharing with their mother what they had learned.

By this point, Eren’s throat was dry, so Mikasa patted his back to make him feel less guilty that he ran out of stories already. He listened to Sasha talk about her friends, and Armin encouraged his son to say hi to a headstone.

When they arrived at the cabin for lunch, Jean had just pulled Marco from a hot bath and quickly put him to nap so he could help his wife. Eren and Sasha grabbed apples from the kitchen bowl and took little Arlet outside to feed the horses; Annie watched from the kitchen as Eren held up her son in his arms and instructed him to give the apple to the horse. At first, the little boy looked terrified as the horse sniffed his fingers but then giggled as the horse bit into the apple from his hand and munched.

The children came back inside for a lovely lunch and to watch Annie, with insane cravings, consume almost every pie on display. The adults pretended not to notice, let alone watch, but Annie was fully aware and did her best to chew slowly and savor the taste before swallowing.

***

And just like that, everything changed.

Jean and Mikasa were napping after a post-lunch round of sex when they heard the explosion. Jean quickly dressed and stepped onto the balcony to scan the city. The look he gave his wife terrorized her.

“It’s the school,” he whispered.

The couple fought their way through the panicked crowds, but the crowd only seemed bigger as worried parents tried to get closer, but the “police” held them back while the headmistress refused to let any children go home until every child was out of the rubble.

Mikasa craned her neck to watch the smoke reach for the sky, and visions of dead children’s bodies came back. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. This could not be happening again, it could not, and she knew that the Yeagerists had to have been responsible just to create horror. Jean was right–inner terrorism was the worst kind.

Teachers led schoolchildren out of the front door and had them stand in a line for a proper headcount. Parents shouted for their children, who cried and pleaded to go home, but it all made Mikasa feel worse.

“Eren!” cried Jean. “Marco! Sasha!”

Mikasa joined him in crying out for Sasha and her brothers, but it was twenty minutes before they saw Eren’s face in the line pouring out of the front door. He was crying but grabbing his friend Bryce’s shoulders while another boy clutched his.

“Thank goodness,” Jean muttered. “Sasha! Marco!”

Thankfully, Sasha’s class stepped out after five minutes, and they identified their daughter in the crowd. Sasha tried to run over, but her friend Ashly pulled on her arm, so she spent the time holding hands with Ashly and their friend Megan. She was visibly crying but clearly trying to console her friends. Mikasa sighed in relief to erase a terrifying vision of Sasha’s body, prone and still like her late namesake’s.

Jean put his hands on her arms and tried to comfort her for what seemed like hours.

“Kirstein!” roared a teacher. It caught Jean’s and Mikasa’s attention just in time for Marco, his little face covered in soot, to hurry out of the building with his best friend’s arm around his shoulders. They cried out for him, but he likely could not hear them. Austin was bleeding so profusely that Marco had taken off his own jacket to push against the head wound.

Fortunately, a teacher swooped in. “Here, Marco,” he said. “I got him, thank you.” Marco cried as he watched Austin being carried away from him until their teacher called for Marco to join the line.

In that moment, Jean’s panic faded and turned into utmost pride for his youngest child.

***

Jean washed his face of his tears and stared at his reflection. Not even the relief that his children were safe was enough to calm him down or make him stop crying. He tried not to think of how hard the children were crying or how terrified they were so that their parents had to carry them home. It took hours for them to calm down, take baths, and cuddle with their parents until they fell asleep on the couch.

Mikasa was sitting on the chair beside the couch and silently weeping as she clutched a mug of tea. She shook her head. “They will never forget this,” she whispered. She set down her mug and pulled her husband into a fierce hug. He let her cry on his shoulder and studied how the children twitched in their sleep, Marco silently crying, Sasha gripping the skirt of her nightgown, and Eren pushing his face into the seat of the couch. As soon as Jean’s mother returned to keep an eye on the children, the couple snuck out and rode to meet with the Queen, who was just as devastated.

“I know it was the Yeagerists,” she said and went into detail about a mole who infiltrated the Yeagerists and confirmed the weaponry used to explode the school, kill twenty-four children, and hospitalize over fifty. Mikasa’s heart pounded in hatred, and Jean hung his head against his wife’s shoulder. The mole, however, did not know that the school would be a target; from what the Queen gathered, the attacks were to be random.

Within two hours, they sketched out a plan: Because the anniversary of the Battle of Heaven and Earth was approaching, she would assign Mikasa, Connie, Jean, Armin, Reiner, and Pieck to parade through the streets in celebration and commemoration of the lives lost; their job was to keep an eye out for anyone who may not be celebrating and make a report to Historia. Annie, on hiatus after the birth of baby Arlet number three, would sneak the little Kirsteins and Arlets to the Blouse farm for hiding until it was safe to go home. If the Blouse family approved, they would take in the children two days before the parade was announced.

Naturally, the late Sasha’s family was happy to take in Annie and the children, but Reiner and Pieck, having moved back to Marley, were hesitant and worried that it would just lead to more casualties. With convincing from Armin, whose own firstborn was due to start school the following year, they agreed to come as soon as possible.

Mikasa, Jean, and Armin had to console their frightened children about the distance and the undisclosed amount of time that they wouldn’t see their parents. With wigs and new clothes, Annie and the children departed by wagon to Dauper. Mikasa and the men watched with pained hearts as the wagon faded into a small dot, and reluctantly turned away from their dearest loves.

***

The couple pretended not to feel awkward that they were parading around town to commemorate their victory at an inappropriate anniversary. It would have been better to have erected a memorial of all the late soldiers who died during and before the Battle.

Instead, they scanned the crowds to find hostile looks and suspicious people, yet they also saw grateful townspeople eager to stare at the heroes of so many years ago. Their uniforms were recently cleaned, and they received new versions of their since-retired gear, from the blades to the Thunder Spears. In the far distance, Armin saw three children–two little boys and a little girl–climb onto the roof of a house to watch. He secretly smiled to himself in nostalgia and confidence.

It’s nice to know that some people still believe in us and are grateful for all that we had done years ago, he decided to tell his friends after the parade. However, he thought back to that one fateful day, when he and Eren and Mikasa snuck a peek at the parade of the Survey Corps, only to find a defeated team that suffered more than it gained. He hoped that somehow, this act sent a positive message to the next generation whom he had to protect from the threat of destruction and massive death.

Jean made himself smile as he admired strangers and was showered in rose petals. Years ago, he would have done anything to do this and get girls’ attention, even if it wasn’t to find a lifelong mate. Now he had a real job to ensure the continued safety of his pride and joy, all three of whom, according to Annie’s recent letter, were recovering as long as they helped with the farm and practiced riding horses. Jean scanned the crowd for anyone who perhaps indicated signs of affiliation to the Military Police. It seemed like such a long time ago that he had wanted to be one of them and live a life of luxury.

Ka-BOOM!

The explosion was louder than at the school, and not just because of the close distance. Jean knew from the smoke that it was of greater ammunition. Then he heard another explosion, and more people screamed and huddled to the ground or pushed past each other.

“Everybody get inside!” Mikasa roared, and she and her surviving soldiers galloped to the scene of devastation. She did not want it to be another school–no more children deserved to struggle with the trauma that her children were fighting–and she certainly did not want it to be a crowded building like a hospital. Luckily, the road ahead of her was cleared with not even a wheel to slow down her horse. “Seek shelter! Do not hover around!”

Then they erupted out of nowhere.

The capes were long gone, but the tails of their coats fluttered behind them like the former uniform. Mikasa’s heart pounded in anger. They did not deserve to wear the wings of freedom anymore. They took that symbol as their own and dishonored it so that it lost its true, original meaning.

The Yeagerists swooped down to assault the former soldiers who still rode like a windstorm and pulled out their gear. Jean clutched his handlebars and glared at the monsters who dared to threaten the lives and well-being of the three people he loved above anything else. Adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream, and the hatred that he once felt for the Titans was now reserved for those who sought destruction, not peace.

“Jean…!”

Jean barely turned his head to his wife’s direction as everything went black and the screams of Reiner, Armin, Pieck, and Connie faded…

The surprising, blinding light snapped Jean from unconsciousness, and he trembled as his vision cleared. When he finally came to his senses, he realized that he was in a basement with lanterns. About ten people in the now dishonorable uniform were glaring at him. He tried to move but realized that he was hanging by his wrists from the ceiling.

“Nice to meet you, Kirstein,” said a young man who reminded him of Samuel. “We’ve heard a lot about you and are so delighted to put a name to the face.”

Jean scoffed. “Nice to meet the people who threatened my children’s lives by blowing up their school and harming innocent children.”

The man’s laugh was like cold water. “Ah, seems like your personality hasn’t changed since your hotheaded days with the cape.” He pushed back his hair. “I guess there are some things that don’t go away when you become a father.”

“Not everything has to change when your life isn’t about you anymore,” Jean spat. “But yeah, if you’re going to torture me to demand where my children are, I wouldn’t even bother to tell you their first words.”

Some of the other occupants snickered at the jab. “We’ll get to that later. Honestly, we’re more curious about something else.”

“Listen to me, you dirty devils,” Jean growled. “I know what you’re trying to do, but trust me. You’re only going to make things worse. The cause is dead, and you’re following a destructive path that will kill everything and everyone you care about.” He tried not to think about Mikasa in the past, only the Mikasa who was now his wife.

One young man grabbed his ankle and pulled off his boot, and Jean’s heart pounded in his ears. “You really believe you can take down the Yeagerists, after all we’re doing in the name of your late friend?” he sneered. "If that's so, then why even bother naming your first son after your old friend? Didn't you try to talk your wife out of it?"

“You’re only causing more pain, more hardship to children who will not understand that you cannot always solve a problem by becoming part of the problem,” Jean hissed. “You’re only spreading the disease when you think you are curing it.” He tugged on his constraints. "And we named our son Eren...because for all the harm that the first Eren I knew caused, my Eren...my little ray of light...will bring back together what my friend had torn apart."

The young man gave him a twisted look. “A disease, you think Eren’s cause was, to free us from discrimination?” He pulled out of his pocket a hammer and slammed it so hard against Jean’s instep that he heard the cracks before he felt the bones break.

***

Mikasa glared at the young woman whom she had followed and cornered in an alley. “Hitch,” she spat. “I should have known that you were a leader in this.”

Annie’s former roommate snickered. “A leader?” she stupidly repeated. “Just because I’m fighting for a cause that I believe in doesn’t mean that I always take the reins. Whose idea was it to have this stupid parade, anyway–yours?”

“Like hell,” Mikasa huffed. “I did not want to celebrate history this way unless we erected a monument for all of those who lost their lives to preserve Paradis Island without harm to others.”

Hitch’s mouth twitched. “That sounds so unlike you, Mikasa,” she chuckled, and Mikasa couldn’t tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. “It looks like you’ve had a complete change of heart ever since you became a mother. Didn’t you ever tell your children how Mommy was a tag-a-long for almost her entire life?”

Mikasa arched her feet and gripped her handlebars so that her knuckles were white. “Well, if I can recall, I got to where I was from natural talent, not through perhaps dishonorable means.”

Suddenly, Hitch’s eyes flickered, and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a gun.

Mikasa was quicker in deflecting the bullets with her blades until Hitch ran out. Growling, she tossed it aside and raised her fists, in a position that she clearly learned from Annie. “Fine, then,” said Mikasa, who took off her own gear. “Let’s do it evenly. Give me everything you got.”

Hitch huffed, and the women ran forward.

***

Jean clenched his fists over the chains holding his arms over his head and tried not to show any sign of pain on his face. Both of his feet were broken, and he had a sensation like blood was pouring from his legs. Nevertheless, he glared at the damn Yeagerists who gave him looks of death that he delightfully returned. It’s not just that you wanted to kill innocent children, innocent lives, he wanted to scream at them. I know that you wanted to create an attack just so you can drive more people to your case, even if they left years ago!

“Are you ready to speak now?” sneered a soldier. “We have so many questions to ask, and we have all the time we need to beat them out of you.”

Jean nastily grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

The soldier grabbed Jean’s leg by the knee. “All right, then–”

Within seconds, the pain of a dislocated knee soared up Jean’s thigh.

***

Just then, Hitch raised her leg and kicked Mikasa in the chin, sending her tumbling back.

The nasty chuckle that Hitch gave only angered Mikasa even more. “Motherhood clearly made you lose ground,” she taunted as she wiped her bloody nose. “It looks like you forgot what made you graduate at the top of your class.”

Not quite, Mikasa thought to herself. She pushed herself to her feet and ran forward, but Hitch was faster–a kick toward the face, but Mikasa defected it, grabbed Hitch’s knee, and spun her around so that Hitch instantly fell to the ground facedown.

Same person, the black-haired woman thought to herself, different enemy closer to home. Then she grabbed Hitch by her elbows, forced her up onto her knees, and stepped on her ankles. “Where is my husband?” she spat. “If you thought your defeat was embarrassing, imagine what I can do to ten more people–it helped me take down more Titans than you would believe.”

Hitch snorted, so Mikasa pushed up her arm until Hitch cried out from the pain of a dislocated shoulder. “I’ll keep asking you until you give me a truthful answer,” she warned. “Trust me–I could do this as long as I need to.” She then shoved her knee into Hitch’s lower back. “But if you lure me into a trap, I have no problem finding you after I escape, and making you wish that I had killed you.”

Hitch groaned and hung her head. For extra security, Mikasa dislocated the other woman’s knees and paraded her throughout the empty streets. Seeing curious and relieved faces made the mother of three satisfied that not everybody agreed with the Yeagerists, yet also displeased that they refused to fight back and relied on semi-retired soldiers to take down the threat of terrorism.

You disappoint me, she bitterly thought.

***

I will not give in, Jean mentally shouted. He grit his teeth and ignored the pain in his knee.

He thought of Mikasa, how she slowly became more than an infatuation and then his life partner. She was hesitant to return his feelings, not out of guilt for Eren but to ensure that Jean’s feelings were genuine and not out of lust. He asked every time he wanted to do something new, from holding her hand to kissing her cheek. One time, before they moved in together, she was crying so hard that he cradled her in his arms until they fell asleep together. When she woke up, she thanked him for not leaving her then, nor for taking advantage of her. He reassured her that any man who would harm a woman like that was a monster, and that she herself deserved comfort.

“Answer me!” yelled a young woman who swiftly dislocated his right elbow. Jean groaned, but at least his arm was not broken or being dismembered.

He concentrated on the first time they made love, how sweet and passionate they made it, how they were slow to undress each other. He listened to her every need and for discomfort because she deserved to enjoy it and feel safe at the same time. He had tears in his eyes because he could not believe that this was happening. He intertwined his fingers with hers, and pulled over her head and squeezed her hand, and barely winced when she sank her fingernails into his back. It was sweat and happy tears and desperate kisses on both ends. She had finished before he did, but he knew that a one-night stand or with someone for whom he did not feel as he did Mikasa would not have brought him to that intensity. Afterwards, he kissed her forehead and wrapped their blanket–and his arms–tightly around her as they whispered to each other to sleep.

His other elbow throbbed, but he pretended not to feel pain, for he recalled that one special memory, when he and his wife studied each other and made love in the cold river outside their log cabin. It wasn’t their first time in the river, but it was the most special because two days later, her birthday present to him was a tiny box with white baby shoes inside. Jean had never cried harder from joy at that point in his life until she had the baby.

He thought of the births of his children and the delight and fear each time that he became a father. Being the first to hold his children in his arms gave him an elation that no poem or song could sum up. Even the mild moments of frustration were nothing compared to the joy of watching them grow up into better human beings than he had ever been, and he was determined to maintain their sense of safety throughout their lives.

He thought of his children’s namesakes, and why he and his wife agreed to name them after beloved friends. Whenever Eren made friends with boys and girls who didn’t fit in, Sasha poked her head through hanging laundry just to puff her cheeks when she knew that her father was unhappy, or Marco tried to fix his own problems on his own before asking for help, Jean wondered if his fallen friends were proud of the legacy that Jean was giving him in their honor. All he wanted was for them to grow up healthy and strong, and give him and his wife similar–if not greater–grandchildren.

Pound, POUND!

“Who the hell is that?” someone demanded.

Through blurry eyes, Jean turned his head to the knocking. Just then, the door opened, and a body flung onto the floor.

“Hitch!” cried the Yeagerists. Jean noticed that his former ally was hog-tied and gagged with a white cloth, and his eyes widened.

“Who did this to you?”

“Was it one of those so-called Warriors?”

They removed the gag from her mouth, and Hitch was crying from either pain or humiliation. “It…It was…”

The door flung open. “Come and get me,” said the voice that he loved to hear every day, the voice that thanked him for being a wonderful father and husband, the voice that whispered every time they made love…

Still, Jean struggled to focus, but he knew from the constant grunts and her angry yells that his warrior wife was winning. He heard the snap of broken bones and bodies slammed against the wall in a dizzying circle. It ended with deep pants.

“Thanks for the tip, Hitch,” he heard her say right before a crunch, a cry, and a body slump. Then the footsteps drew closer. “Jean! Oh, thank goodness, you’re still alive.”

Jean grinned, but his body ached for him to willingly talk. She grabbed his face and kissed him. “Stay with me, all right?”

She searched the unconscious bodies for the key and freed him from his chains. He partially collapsed onto her and groaned. “Th–They dislocated…” He tried to lift his aching head. “All the joints…they hurt…”

“I know,” she said, “but I’ll help you out of here.”

With one arm over her shoulder, she escorted him up the stairs and into the sunlight. She set him onto the ground and knelt down to stroke his face until Armin and the others arrived. Reiner picked up Jean and carried him all the way to the hospital, where Jean passed out in the cool building.

***

Jean was slow to wake up but knew that he could not stay asleep anymore. He dimly opened his eyes and failed to suppress a yawn. His wife was curled up in the sheets, her bare back against his bare chest and her long hair tumbling over the pillow. He had his arm around her waist and his bare leg draped over hers. A hot flash erupted in his chest. How did he get so lucky that his dreams became manifestations that turned out to be better than he imagined?

He didn’t know if she was feigning sleep, so he decided not to surprise her with an omelet or treat himself to scotch. He just wanted to live in this moment for as long as he could. They were talking seriously about expanding their family, and he knew that once a child entered their lives, they would have limited time alone, even to conceive again. The one thing he knew, though, was that, regardless of how many children she bore and how her body would change, he would still find her attractive and want to squeeze her against his naked body in his sleep, just like in the present.

“Jean?” It was her sweet voice. “Are you awake?”

“No,” he responded. “Why? Are you hungry?”

“I’m not.” She adjusted her arm over the blanket. “I’ve been awake since the sun rose. I just didn’t want to get out of bed.”

Jean pulled her closer to his chest and moved his arm to align under hers. “Me neither.” He shoved his face between her shoulder and neck, and breathed in her natural scent. “I never thought how much I could appreciate mornings like this, where we have nothing to wake up to.”

Mikasa huffed. “Agreed.” She hesitated. “We had too many sacrifices and unnecessary deaths to bring us here, but…our–our roles that we had in bringing us this peace…I wouldn’t give up anything.”

No matter how much Jean would miss Marco and Sasha, and mourn that even Levi’s past squad never had this chance to wake up with an intimate partner, he felt that neither would have wanted him to be deprived of that privilege. If even one cadet could find lifelong happiness and live a desired life outside the army, then that was for what his fallen comrades had fought.

Secretly, Jean wondered if Eren, his family, and even Jean’s late in-laws would have thanked him for making Mikasa happy, the way that Jean’s mother had thanked her. Even if his mother had hated her and did not think that her son could feel safe and comfortable enough to be vulnerable, Jean would still want to marry, have a family with, and grow old with the orphan girl. How Jean yearned to tell his younger self that he and the young woman whose long black hair he adored would make each other happier than he ever imagined.

***

There were dim sounds, like speech–different people talking, with old and younger pitches. Nothing was clear yet, but they were familiar sounds. Some sounded worried, others uncertain. His body felt like it was levitating like in a street magic show. Blood rushed down his face, and his skin started to hurt. What was this? Was this a new Path that he somehow joined?

Wait–there was light, light ahead…and some dark shape at the end of it…

Jean slowly opened his eyes. Mikasa smiled in relief. “Thank goodness,” she whispered. She held up a white cloth and dabbed at his warm face. Jean signed as the memories came back of the torture and pain, but she was safe. She was alive. It wasn’t a dream, he knew.

Suddenly, their three children’s faces popped into his sight. “Dada!” they cheered.

“Children, shush,” said Mikasa. “You promised that you would keep your voice down when he woke up.”

Sasha climbed as much as she could onto the bed and kissed Jean’s cheek. “We were worried, Dada,” she said. “Then Uncle Armin and Uncle Connie came to the farm after two days–we were very good–and they didn’t say what happened.”

Eren pulled Sasha off the bed by her waist and ignored her complaints. “They just said that you were hurt,” he said, “so Aunt Annie made sure we all got to come here.”

Mikasa picked up Marco, whom she bounced on her lap. “The doctor readjusted your joints, but you will still be sore for up to a week, he thinks,” she said.

Jean sighed. The soreness he could deal with, but the broken bones were his main problem. Did the doctor offer to lend them a wheelchair so that he didn’t have to hurt his feet anymore with crutches or have to stay in bed while he healed? He looked around and saw that they were in his bedroom, having taken him home right from the hospital. How long was he unconscious?

Then the door opened, and Connie led the Arlets into the room. Baby Arlet sucked her thumb in Annie’s arms, but her older brothers flung their arms over the foot of the bed. “Uncle Jean, guess what he did?” whispered Leonhart, who waved a piece of paper.

“We made you a card,” hissed his older brother, who bounced on his feet. “We hope you get well soon and can go outside with us for picnics in the park.”

“Thank you, boys,” said Jean.

Eventually, Mikasa sent her children into the kitchen to surprise Dada with a special dinner, and then asked Connie and the Arlets to please supervise so no fights would break out over something silly. Her friends ushered the Arlet boys out of the room, leaving her alone with her husband. She helped him sit up, removed the loose tunic as gently as she could, and pulled from behind him a bowl full of water and a blue cloth.

Jean smirked. “Is this really why you asked the children to surprise us with dinner–to get a good look?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “I can see it every night, when the children go to bed, and I would never tire of it.” She wiped down his arms and collarbone, cleaned the cloth, and focused on his midsection. He watched his wife’s delicate arm move over his skin in small circles. She shifted behind him only to wipe his bare back and the back of his neck. He heard her set aside the bowl and felt her soft lips on his shoulder blade. Her kiss on the back of his neck was harder, as were the pecks going down his backbone.

“You know that you can cry if you need to,” he reminded her. He knew her long enough that he knew when she had the urge.

“Not until the children go to bed,” she whispered. After she kissed both halves of his wide, muscular chest, she moved on to each tied joint and then his lips. She carefully separated her legs over his lap, careful not to touch his aching hips, and held his face in both hands so that he wouldn’t stop kissing her.

Jean wished that his elbows and shoulders were not dislocated because he desperately wanted to pull his wife closer to him in his arms and tug on her long hair. The kissing did not last as long as he would have wanted; she broke away after hearing two knocks on the door, followed by, “Dada! Can we come on? We have dinner ready!”

Eren, Sasha, and Marco together cooked for Dada an omelet with potato chunks rather than rice, diced zucchini with sauce that Dada liked, and a chicken thigh. It smelled quite appetizing. The three took turns feeding Dada, who was grateful that the Yeagerists didn’t dislocate his jaw, and made sure that he ate every bite, “including the gross potatoes,” Sasha added with her nose wrinkled. Mikasa did not send them back to wash the dishes until forty minutes after Dada finished eating, but Marco said that Connie and the Arlets were already at the sink so he, Sasha, and Eren could spend more time with their father. The next four hours flew by, and everyone wished Jean a good night and easy sleep.

Eren, Sasha, and Marco fell asleep around their father, but Mikasa was too tired and lazy to pick them up and move them into a different bed. She curled up to her husband’s chest and lured herself asleep to the sound of his beating heart.

It seemed so long ago that she dreamt of Eren and herself isolating themselves in a cabin to live out the remainder of his life. Looking back, she realized that she wasn’t that selfish; she just wanted to spend as much time with the one family member she had left and let him know how much she cared.

At this point, she instead dreamt that she had a terminal illness and had even less than four years of life left. Unlike what she would have wanted for her friend, she would have preferred to stay in the apartment. She would have had multiple gatherings with her fellow cadet graduates, tasted everything on the menu at Nicolo’s restaurant and listened to what he knew about food from different countries and cultures, researched her heritage with her children, made love to her husband like she could not believe, and opted to see more of the world. Then she would peacefully pass away with no one but her husband and three children at her side to remind her that she fought for and lived a great life.

When she woke up the next morning and looked at the family that she helped build, she assumed that her mother and father would have been proud of where she ended up and the life she created after losing everything at that point.

The family spent the day flipping through Jean’s filled sketchbooks as far back as when he was newly married. The children were fascinated to see how much detail their father put into artwork that resembled photographs before more Eldians took to photography. Of course, their apartment had photographs of their growing family, but Sasha and her brothers already could not imagine a life without that technology, let alone to capture intimate moments of her parents admiring newborn Eren or Sasha herself kissing baby Marco’s cheek. Only after the three (reluctantly) went to sleep in a different room did the couple flip through some of the more private sketches, such as Mikasa nursing their babies and her various body parts two days before she gave birth to Eren, her hands over where the doctor said that the fetus’s feet and head were at that point.

Then she flipped back pages to a personal favorite, which turned out to be the morning after Sasha was conceived. Jean sketched his wife, under the blanket, holding up a camera to take a picture of her husband at the foot of their bed and sketching her as he saw her. She even clipped the photograph of Jean to the page as a reminder of the “simpler time” when they were experimenting with unfamiliar technologies that would definitely shape the following generations. Neither bothered to dress; they covered themselves with their shared blanket.

“An innocent time, it seemed like,” he thought out loud.

“No,” she said with a smile. “It was just one step further into our lives together, as we were rebuilding.” She leaned her head against his arm and admired how he drew her fingers clutching the camera. “It’s something that you and I can look back on with fondness.”

When Jean turned his head to meet her eyes, she propped herself up on her elbow. “Do you remember how you used to say, ‘I’m not him’, ‘It’s not who I am’?” She took a deep breath and continued: “I…I am glad you are not. I was always happy that you are a different person.”

Jean blinked, stunned. Mikasa reached forward and stroked his cheek. “The love I felt for him was different. And…I always will love and miss him, but I realized…” She took a deep breath and swallowed. “The love I have for you, I could never have with him.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “Mika, understand this–I never wanted to be him anyway, because I knew that he had flaws that were not healthy for any of us in the Corps. You know what he planned to do, and you allowed yourself to admit that you disagreed with it. That is a brave thing.” He motioned for her to move her head to his face, and he kissed her cheek. “I probably would have stopped feeling anything for you but anger if you did not bother to fight back. I know that you’ll carry this feeling for the rest of your life, but think of it like this: If you never did make that decision to kill him and stop the massacre of thousands of more people, you would have spent the rest of your life and even your dying moments regretting it.”

That stopped her crying, and Jean was tired but wanted to continue. “You saved thousands of other lives, my love, just by you admitting that you couldn’t allow your love to continue like that. And…” As he smiled, tears filled his eyes. “Our children–our three babies–they would not exist.”

Mikasa wiped her face and nodded in agreement. “True,” she said, “and I hope that Sasha and the boys will learn that story one day, and learn something from it.”

“They will,” Jean promised. “I know they will. That’s why we visit the grave every year–so they learn something every time, about doing what’s right, and how to grow up: Move on, but don’t forget.”

“I know,” his wife smiled. “I love you.”

Jean echoed her and deeply kissed her. Then she lied on her side, cuddled up to him as best as she could, and repeated that mantra in her mind so she could one day tell the three people for whom her life was centered: Move on, but don’t forget. Move on, but don’t forget.

***

So many things happened, wonderful and terrible. Life truly went on, and more than fifty years had passed since she made that fateful decision to end her best friend’s life. Had he lived, he would indeed have been amazed with how unrecognizable their home was.

The couple led the way to the tree, followed by Sasha, Marco, and, on behalf of her absent husband, Eren’s wife, all of whom brought their children with them while Sasha’s and Marco’s spouses waited by the cars.

Jean still supported her after she stepped off her wheelchair and towards her friend’s final resting place. True to his word, he loved her the older and grayer she became; true to her word, she felt just as attracted to him as when they pledged their lives together.

Mikasa still felt the same every time she saw the headstone. It was always nice to stand here and pay her respects to her childhood friend. At that point in her life, he had been her entire world; now, her entire world was right behind her but also preparing for her departure within the next few years or the next decade. This time, it was bittersweet to think that one day, she would join him, reunite with her own parents, and the fallen comrades. She just knew that everyone in her family would still come to the burial grounds, and she wouldn’t change that as long as they were still able to live long lives as she had.

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