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this-is-krikkit · 2 years ago

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Krikkit Sunshine of my life 🌞❤️

How are you today ?

You know how much I love the way you write kisses, so my prompt is "Interrupted" !!😘

Kith ❤️❤️

thank you for the prompt babe, as always i'm very sorry it took me days (weeks? i think probably weeks....) to fill it 🫣🫣

i hope you'll enjoy this anyway!! 😘♥️

Almost kissing meme: Interrupted

Tags: cabin in the woods, post canon, levihan, jeankasa, jeankasa's kid, squad denial

edited version now on ao3

"There you go, sweetie! All ready," Mikasa declares as she closes the last button on her daughter's coat.

"Mama, why are we going to Uncle Levi's again?"

Jean frowns and sends a puzzled look her way, but Mikasa's just as confused.

"You don't want to go?" he asks.

"I do! I want to hear the rest of that story he started. But I thought I had to wait for special Sundays to see him, and today is..."

"Wednesday, right. Well, today is a special day, and we want to be there for him," Mikasa explains.

And how special today is indeed.

It's been exactly six months since Levi left his former living arrangements with Onyankopon and the Marley kids to move back to Paradis, with no explanation given to anyone about it. Half a year since he's been living as a recluse in the woods, half a year since he's been assuring everyone that he just needs some distance and everyone decided to go along with it because it was apparently such a Levi thing to do. Everyone except Mikasa who, with Jean's help, has made him agree to monthly visits so far.

But today marks the anniversary of the battle of Shiganshina, and she's decided to make Levi attend- well no, that's not how Jean ha dphrased it. To invite Levi over to the yearly reunion the surviving Scouts of that event have held since the war ended. He's never agreed to come the preivous years, but she suspects Onyankopon didn't insist much on it and she's never had the chance to invite him directly.

Armin suggested leaving him alone like he requested when she mentioned it, but Mikasa's chosen to ignore his point of view -she's tired of people enabling Levi's unhealthy whims when they're not permanently around to see him closing in on himself and getting worse. Jean pretended he was only on board because he has to as her husband, but Mikasa knows he's concerned as well. She's seen him frown over the cheery -in a Levi fashion, but still- front he's putting on that's gotten creepily convincing lately, and they've discussed the odd fact that he always seems reluctant to stay indoor and insists they go out to enjoy the weather instead -even that day it rained so much the porch got soaked and they had to practically beg him to get back inside. There's also that moment he grew even paler than his natural complexion the last time they came over, when Jean spotted a black jacket thrown over his couch and made a joke about Levi finally letting loose and allowing himself to be a little messy, and the former Captain had looked freaked out for a while after that.

She only gets a contemplative hum from hee daughter in reply, and the journey to Levi's hermit hut is oddly silent. Until the yellow front door appears between thick tree trunks, and Mikasa's hand suddenly feels empty as little legs rush their way into Levi's home without awaiting her parents' arrival.

"Do you think she'll ever manage to learn when to knock?" Jean asks around a smile as they reach the steps.

Before Mikasa replies, a familiar head pops back out of the house.

"Mama, who's that kissing Uncle Levi?"

Mikasa shares a half surpeised, half saddened look with Jean, knowing they're both thinking of the one and only name they could have ever imagined saying in response to that question, and she readies herself to scold the little one and dissipate the misunderstanding.

But just as she passes the threshold, she comes face to face with the familiar sight of Levi's living room, and the very unfamiliar sight of two blushing people including her cousin and former Captain.

It takes her a while to recognize the other person, but after the initial shock, there's no denying it. The tall and lanky figure that abruptly stands up from the couch -and Levi's lap, evidently- the brown messy hair, the milky white iris of a blind left eye behind askew glasses. The seemingly thousand of burn scars all over their face and exposed body make up as much of a challenge as they are a clue to identify them, and the comforting affection in that one caramel-colored eye as it lands on Mikasa's family is unmistakably theirs.

"Hange-san?" Jean whispers.

He sounds uncertain and scared and small, so unlike himself Mikasa wonders if he's really the one who just spoke. She remembers their mixed screams and tears as they'd seen Hange leap to their death that fateful day, remembers falling to her knees with sobs wracking her body while she mourned her Commander for the brief moments she was allowed to, and she admires her husband for being able to speak because she can't find her own voice right now.

Hange, because that's them even if her brain's having trouble reconciling that reality with those memories, that is them standing in the middle of this messy and oddly decorated room in that tiny cabin lost in the largest forest of all that damned island, Hange smiles a warm and bright smile their way, nodding shortly before they drop to their knees and turn their attention fully to the youngest person in the room.

"By the Walls," they squeal, their own voice rougher and more cracked than Mikasa remembers, "you must be Jean and Mikasa's baby, right?"

Her child frowns as she takes Hange in, turning to her parents for guidance, and somehow Mikasa manages to allow a soft smile to show on her features.

"It's alright, Zoë, you can go ahead and answer," she says with an encouraging nod.

Hange doesn't appear surprised at the name, but their fidgetting hands and the way their eye suddenly explores every direction but the one of Levi's unexpected guests betrays just how awkward it is for them to hear it.

"You're wrong. I'm not a baby anymore," Zoë declares proudly as she takes one brave step towards this stranger, arms crossed over her chest.

Hange lets out a chuckle at that announcement and the confidence in it, before their smile starts looking a little stilted.

"No, you aren't, my bad. You're all grown up now," they note, a distinct regretful edge to their tone.

But Zoë doesn't pick up on it, and she speaks again before Mikasa can prevent it.

"Who are you, and what's wrong with your face?"

Mikasa's heart stops and she curses inwardly as she remembers the precaution they'd taken about explaining her and Jean's scars, as well as Levi's specific ones to Zoë early on. Like many children born after the war, she's familiar with the sight of healed penetrative wounds or missing limbs, and she's used to the way Levi limps after too many hours standing up, but she's never encountered someone with burns scars as extensive as Hange's.

Jean cringes as well, his feet carrying him closer to them just as Levi stands up from the couch and clears his throat.

"Zoë, you can't just-

"It's fine, guys, she's allowed to ask questions! Curiosity should always be encouraged," the former Commander says, not quite meeting Jean's eyes even as they reassure him. "My name is Hange, and my... my face looks like this because I got badly burnt during a battle."

Mikasa doesn't need to see her face to know Zoë's eyes lit up at that last word.

"Ohhh you were a soldier too?" she asks excitedly, eagerly walking closer and inspecting their exposed skin even more openly now.

Hange nods with a soft smile, leaning forward to allow Zoë to touch their face.

"Gentle, Zo," Mikasa reminds her.

Hange looks up, opening their mouth as if to thank her for the warning, but averts their eye almost immediately. It breaks something new in Mikasa's heart, the shame and discomfort Hange seems to feel towards her and Jean, and the only reason she doesn't have to stop herself from demanding an explanation is that she's still questioning her own brain too much right now to do so.

Zoë's taking up all of Hange's focus anyway, carefully touching their skin, their curious hands softly tracing the scars on their face and neck, and Mikasa feels... envious. This already fucked up day is turning into the weirdest dream she's had in a while, and she wouldn't mind getting to touch Hange too and make sure she's not a fucking ghost or hallucination.

Levi gestures over to her like he's read her thoughts, annoyingly pointing towards the kitchen like he wants to give the two newly acquainted pair some space.

"It's softer than it looks," Zoë observes, her tiny voice barely above a whisper, freezing Levi to his spot as he was starting to head to the other room. "Will it stay like that?"

"Well, it's still healing," Hange explains, "but I'll always look.. it's not going to get much prettier, no."

"Hmm. Hange, can I ask something else?"

"Sure, Z-Zoë," they try, their tongue stumbling over the name.

"Can I ask why you were kissing Uncle Levi?"

Hange's face turns beet red once more, and Levi coughs as he chokes on his own saliva.

"I wasn't kissing him, actually," they start in their best, almost familiar diplomatic tone, "because you came running into the room when it was about to happen."

"Oh. I forgot to knock," Zoë realizes, shooting a sheepish glance her parents' way.

"It's alright, I was never great at it either. Do you want some tea?" Hange asks, opening their arms.

"Sure!" Zoë replies, throwing herself in their embrace and letting them carry her up. "Uncle Levi always has new flavours!"

"I know! Come on, let's find one you haven't tried before."

They walk off chattering, and there's an akmost awkward silence in the room suddenly.

"I know what you're here to ask, but you could have called before barging in, you know," Levi reproaches as soon as Hange's out of earshot, although it sounds almost playful. "I have a landline in here."

"And you could have called when Hange came back from the fucking dead. How long have you known?" Mikasa spits out, unable to restrain herself any longer.

She can't find it in her to be mad at Hange, can't sort through everything seeing them makes her feel and pick something as petty as anger to focus on here and now.

Anger at Levi, though, that's something she can handle. Something she's comfortable with, even, and if the bored, nonplussed glance he shoots her way is any indication, he is as well. It doesn't stop Jean from reaching out and holding her hand, grounding her efficiently as always.

"Six months and one week," Levi simply replies, his eye wandering around the house he -they, Mikasa mentally corrects- moved into then, before settling on Hange. "I couldn't... They said they weren't ready to see you guys yet."

The three former Scouts look on at the surreal spectacle that is Hange perching Zoë on their shoulders as they help her pick a beverage, the two of them giggling like they've known each other for months.

"So that's what you were up to this whole time hiding out here, huh? Having secret make out sessions with the Scouts 14th Commander?" Jean asks playfully, his voice mostly back to its usual self now.

Levi raises an eyebrow at him, before his lips curve up the way Mikasa hasn't witnessed in a long, long while.

"That would have been the first time, actually," he mumbles, heat sprinkling color over his cheeks again. "Hey, four-eyes, no, that's the coffee stash. You can't give coffee to a child!"

Hange and Zoë both argue with him as he walks over to join them, and laugh at his expense when their combined height keep the forbidden item away from his reach.

"What do you think Armin and Conny are going to find harder to believe; Hange being alive, or the fact that Levi and them have never even smooched before?"

Mikasa shakes her head and chuckles.

"I guess we'll find out tonight," she replies with a wink.

totally stole the first name idea from this adorable fanart

#snk fanfic #snk drabble #shingeki no kyojin #levihan #levi ackerman #mikasa ackerman #jeankasa's kid #hange zoë #this is the first time i write jeankasa #v insecure about it!!#post canon snk #my stuff #asks #mutuals #youre ackermine #squad denial #fix it fic #jean kirstein

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bluebird722 · 3 months ago

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A Lifetime of Firsts

Jeankasa Week: A Lifetime of Firsts

Summary: The Jeankasa relationship is examined through their "first" experiences over their lifetime together.

Rating: T

Main Pairings: Jeankasa, hinted Eremika, Aruani

Author's Note: This was supposed to be my entry for @jeankasaweek2024, but I had fallen ill from a work trip abroad, so I put it on hold until I was able to finish. This is a little longer than my previous fanfictions, but it's probably my most favorite fanfic that I ever wrote. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed plotting and typing it.

For @itslieutenanthawkeye, @jean-kirschtussy, @corner-stories, @marshmallow-rainbow139, @ereami0, @casualaruanienjoyer , @cidsideral , @witchyu , @heavenzscent @peacefulharu @pickalilywrites @levisecretgfblog @ravenhealer5

***Attack on Titan: A Lifetime of Firsts***

First Hug

After they met with the Alliance, the ambassadors made the trip to Shiganshina to visit the grave for the first time. They were exhausted and thirsty, but seeing Mikasa reenergized them with relief. She was all right and safe from all that time working in the Queen’s orphanage. The manner in which she cried and smiled as she embraced Armin made her look more innocent and less traumatized.

Jean didn’t know why, since he knew that she could have never returned his adolescent feelings for her and that he had to let go of that hope, but when she and Armin let go, he guided her into a hug. She smelled just as sweet, and caring for the children at the Queen’s orphanage seemed to have erased the stress and tension that she had carried as a soldier. Even if they had to be friends and nothing more, he was just relieved that she was safe and happy.

After he let go, lest he make anyone else suspicious, Mikasa pulled away and tilted her head. “I like the hairstyle,” she said softly.

Jean’s heart fluttered. “Looking good for the history books,” he said proudly.

Behind him, Pieck snorted.

Everyone had picked a wildflower to set on the grave and pay their respects. Then Mikasa followed them back to where they were to stay until they next departed.

For some reason, that first hug felt so significant to Jean. He didn’t know why, but he had a hard time willing himself to let go. He made himself lose feelings for her, and it was easy when he was helping set up refugee camps and truthfully answering interrogations and collaborating with the other ambassadors. Something was going on within him, but he didn’t think that he was comfortable sharing with any of his parents or even his closest friends. He just hoped to clear it out before he left.

First Letter

As the ambassadors were preparing to leave, Mikasa made sure to be there on time to say goodbye. Naturally, she and Armin embraced tighter, and he was looking forward to reuniting with her, even though he updated her on countries and cultures that she would admire and everything that reminded him of her; she told him about how big and healthier the orphans were growing, and how politics on Paradis were improving and worsening. However, even though Kiyomi had been relentless, Mikasa refused to move to Hizuru; she didn’t want to abandon her birthplace, and she couldn’t abandon children who needed her. Armin knew that they were becoming a little family to her, and she looked at them as the innocent child she had been before she lost her first family.

Still, Mikasa reflected on a conversation they had earlier, when she talked about her guilt for missing him but knowing that she had to kill him to stop that monstrosity. Armin reassured her that yes, she had to, and that she had to sacrifice her happiness for the Rumbling to stop–but that didn’t mean that she had to feel guilty about moving on with her life without him. She was no Ymir, and she did not want to be, but she had clung to him with every fiber of her being for survival since she lost her parents, and she didn’t know how to process his absence from her life.

“Let me ask you this, then,” said Armin at one point. “If it had been the other way around–if you died and he lived–would you rather he spend his remaining years mourning after you, grieving over a dream of what could have been…or would you have wanted him to find love with someone else so he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life alone?”

Mikasa blinked at that question. She opened her mouth, flushed, but didn’t say anything. Armin did not push for an answer. He knew she was conflicted but also that she had to ask herself for an honest answer. He decided to remind her, in a letter, that she deserved to be happy, and that she could still love Eren with all her heart and yet also love another person for the rest of her life–after all, she missed and felt love for her late parents and still considered Grisha and Carla her new family when they took her in.

Armin was putting those words onto paper when Jean walked into the cabin. “Is that for Hizuru?” he asked.

Armin shook his head. “No, it’s for Mikasa. I just wanted to tell her something that I didn’t have time to before we left.”

“Okay.” Jean smiled. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Sure,” said Armin, “but why not write her a letter yourself? I’m sure she’ll appreciate knowing that I’m not the only friend of hers who likes to keep her updated on how things are going, and check up on her.” In truth, Armin was not trying to set up Mikasa with anyone, let alone Jean; he just assumed that she would have liked to correspond with an old friend rather than just the orphans she helped raise. Plus, Jean writing to Mikasa would remind her that just because she lost Eren didn’t mean that there weren’t other men who also cared about her well-being and wanted to stay friends.

Jean hesitated but kept the idea in the back of his mind until he was secluded in his own cabin. While Reiner, his cabin mate, slept and breathed in Historia’s scent from her letter, Jean decided to tell Mikasa about their plans–what they would discuss, their goals, and what they looked forward to once they arrived back in Paradis. He admitted that he missed his parents very much and wished that he had more time to spend with them before he had to leave.

I know that you are happy caring for the orphans, but I think that you would make a fantastic ambassador because you care, he had written. Mikasa reread the letter under the shade of the tree and stared out at Shinganshina in silence. Not even a bird flew by. She looked down at Eren’s grave, which she visited only on his birthday and the anniversary of his death, and now when she greeted the others back to Paradis.

She liked that idea, as much as she loved caring for the orphans, because she knew those children would grow up very soon, and she wondered what to do with her life afterwards. Would she find a partner, someone who knew she killed but still loved Eren and yet loved her in return? Was she to relocate to Shinganshina, or would she go wherever fate took her? The future was so uncertain that Mikasa began to cry again.

***

Caring for the orphans took her mind off her dilemma, if only temporarily. Then again, it made her feel less lonely and more satisfied that she was giving love and care to children who, like herself, lost everything. She knew that she could not save every child, but at least she was doing all she could to prevent those children from ending up in the clutches of the Yeagerists. She expressed that concern in her letters, first to Armin and then to Jean.

Over time, writing to Jean felt like keeping a journal which wrote back to her. Even though she didn’t share everything for fear that he would not be the only one reading, she wrote about the orphans and how slowly she was adjusting to life outside the military. She wrote about how Trini was the fastest runner but not that she cried every time that she prayed for her late parents, how Mike was quick to learn how to cook but not that he spent days clinging to Mikasa, how Clifford loved riding horses but not that he had nightmares about his mother dying from her wounds right after he lost his father and siblings. She also skimmed over how Lauren and Amber gradually stopped crying for their own fathers–who were crushed to death when the walls fell–in their sleep, and liked to make up silly songs with Robert, Jessie, and Matthew. It was strange how everything was getting better even when things were getting worse.

First In-Depth Conversation

The Yeagerists continued to seek and demand power, but fortunately, relations with other nations were improving thanks to the alliance. Peace was temporary as long as the Yeagerists were still in full control, though Reiner and Pieck decided, when the time was right, to move back to Marley and work for the alliance there; Connie and Jean decided to move back to the island, but both Armin and Annie were unsure of their long-term plans. Mikasa reminded Armin that she would support his decision no matter what, and no matter how his relationship with Annie progressed.

After they visited the grave, they went back to the Queen’s hall for a small party with the other allies. Mikasa didn’t really want to go, but she did not feel like going back to the orphanage yet; it was still new to her being around people without Eren at her side. It was at the event that she overheard Jean sharing with Armin and Annie his excitement to reunite with his family. Mikasa smiled, but then she noticed Connie walking by looking crestfallen. She knew that he was excited to see his mother again but was conflicted if they should rebuild or abandon what remained of their village.

She listened to Jean, Armin, and Annie talk to allies about their travels and what they looked forward to doing when they came back for work or pleasure, some of which she knew through Jean’s letters.

“Thank you again, for writing to me when you were away,” she told him after their small crowd had disbanded.

Jean smiled, kind as ever. “Thank you,” he insisted, “for answering back and updating us on Paradis. Maybe one day, you can join us on our excursions in other countries.”

Mikasa beamed at that idea but recalled her sour first trip to Marley, how their mission did not go as planned even after a fun night of partying.

He pressed his hand against her lower back and guided her out of the vicinity. “You seem upset,” he said, “and please don’t deny it. I can tell.”

Mikasa knew there was no sense arguing with him and instead mentioned her disappointment that the first excursion to Marley failed and if she could have done something so that Eren would still be alive and they could have peace without the destruction of the Rumbling.

“You will see him again,” he said, even though he was still unsure if he fully believed in Onyankopon’s belief in an afterlife. “But…he wanted us to live long lives.” Jean didn’t know why he started stroking Mikasa’s cheek. “I just hope…that with this ‘freedom’ to the outside world, we can no longer feel trapped as we did before. We can experience everything we ever wanted.”

“Jean,” she whispered, “what was the future you imagined, that you would like to have?” Mikasa asked. “Do you still want to move into the interior?”

Jean hesitated and looked down. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Even after I decided not to join the MPs, I…I can’t see myself, knowing how corrupt they had been, knowing how there will always be Yeagersits loyal to the core living there…” Jean sighed. “I used to dream about moving to the interior—the best house, everything. My kids could have access to the best schools, the best education that only the Queen and the truly wealthy could afford…just a good life for my loved ones, after everything that I’ve endured. I risked my life for this country, for humanity, so I want them to have the best life possible on this island.”

Mikasa didn’t say anything, but he suspected that she was picking up from him that familiar desire for the impossible–impossible or at least very difficult, but still nice to fantasize about. You don’t always get it, he thought, but it’s nice to get close–and maybe see the good in not getting what you want.

“What about you?” he asked. “Would you have wanted something similar–a family? Did you ever want one?”

Mikasa didn’t respond immediately, but she did look down at her right wrist. “I don’t know,” she said. “Family is something expected of you. When my mother gave me this…” He didn’t need to look down at where she was looking. “She asked for me to pass it on to my own children.”

Jean didn’t say anything.

“But I would not want children unless I wanted them with…the right partner,” she finished. She didn’t need to say, but Jean knew that she was thinking to herself if Eren would have been the right partner–the love of her life, yet one who willingly murdered children in Liberio and in the Rumbling. Jean agreed to himself–he did not want to marry a random woman just to have a wife. Maybe he dreamt of his ideal future as an escape from the Rumbling, but it was nice to imagine that manifesting because he was willing to lay down his life for that island.

They stood in silence until Jean spoke up: “If I have to wait for the perfect partner, I will. I don’t want to chase a dream that won’t come true.”

Mikasa thought about the cabin dream Eren gave her, how she knew that wouldn’t come true, and the turmoil that Ymir had for over 2,000 years. She didn’t know if she could hold onto that heartbreak for that long, and in the process cause so much trauma for unborn generations. “Thank you, Jean, for sharing this with me,” she said. “I know it must be hard to hold that in for years.”

Jean quickly smiled. “Well, thank you for letting me trust you with that. You have changed so much, and you’re so different from when we first met.”

“Are you just saying that because you had a crush on me even before we were in the Scouts?” she asked.

Jean looked at her sharply. “Well, if Armin and Annie had fallen apart, would you have wanted him to harbor after her for life, or would you have encouraged him to move on?” he asked rather harshly. “I’m your friend. I care about you. I hate to see you blame yourself for what you did, even though you knew it had to be done.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I think about our fallen comrades every day, but I want to live so their sacrifices were not in vain, that yes, we have a mess to clean up, but we can make it better than before–”

Suddenly, he noticed that Mikasa’s eyes were watering. He didn’t intend to offend her, but he put his hand on her arm and pulled her to his chest. Suddenly, she seemed to fall in peace crying in his arms. “I loved him, too,” he whispered to her. “I may have picked fights with him and been incredibly selfish back then, but I did not…” He closed his eyes and sighed. He would still give up a thousand apartments in the central region to find a way to bring back Eren without the threat of the Titan curse coming back. “I’m not telling you to forget him,” he added. “I just don’t like seeing you suffer, especially alone.”

Mikasa lifted her head. “I won’t,” she said softly. “I want to live a long life, like he wanted… I just don’t know how.” Her eyes drifted downwards.

“Neither do I,” Jean said, “just as long as I have my loved ones and people I care about.”

Mikasa suddenly remembered Armin saying how just because she lost her parents didn’t mean that she should forget them and accept Eren’s parents as her own, nor to deny them as her new family. “Jean,” she whispered, “did it hurt…that I loved Eren, and didn’t feel for you as you felt for me?” From his sharp inhale and the sound of his teeth clenching, she knew that it was still a sore subject for him.

“Like hell,” he whispered back, “that I couldn’t compete with him for you, and that I could be everything you wanted and needed, but I wouldn’t be him.” He sighed. “It took me a long time to accept that. But I still care about you, Mikasa. I do. I just want you to be happy.”

Mikasa lifted her head and cupped her hands over his jaw. His facial features had changed with adulthood, but she knew that not all of his personality had. She wondered how much of him had changed and stayed the same. “Jean,” she began, almost hesitantly, “I’m sorry that I hurt you. As we were writing to each other, I’m glad to still have you in my life, to be a friend when I needed it, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings anymore.”

“Mikasa,” he said, “I’ve accepted it. You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad that you taught me that I can live with the hurt but still be your friend–just as you can acknowledge that what he did wasn’t right and still love him.”

Mikasa dimly smiled. “You haven’t changed so much, Jean. You still speak your mind and still speak the truth, even if it hurts.”

Jean chuckled. “The fact that you still want to be my friend despite that says a lot, makes me feel better.” He was relieved that she grinned back. Then he realized that maybe he never did get over her. She was his ideal woman, something to look for as he searched for his life partner. She may not be exactly like Mikasa, but at least Mikasa taught him what he wanted and didn’t want in a wife. At least he could still have Mikasa as a close friend.

First Confession

The day before Reiner and Pieck were to depart, Mikasa and Armin visited the grave, where she worried what to do with her life when the orphans grew up. Armin spoke only kind words and reassured him that she could tell him anything; no matter what life threw at them, she would always be as close to him as a sister would, and he only wanted happiness for her.

After they stood in silence and then spoke to the grave, Mikasa and Arnim walked down the hill together, each reminiscing about themselves as children running up the hill. Then Mikasa asked Armin if it was wrong of her to betray Eren by loving another man, even if it wasn’t to the extent that she felt for Eren. Armin said it wasn’t a betrayal; if anything, Eren wouldn’t want her to spend the rest of her life alone. Then he asked if it was about Jean, with whom she had seemed more communicative lately. When Mikasa flushed, Armin continued: “When you’re away from him, do you miss him? Do you hope he’s happy, worry if he’s safe?”

Mikasa’s eyes burned.

“He makes you feel safe, right? He makes you feel… a sense of security, one that you haven’t felt since Eren?”

Mikasa’s stomach boiled with a sick feeling. She didn’t want to admit it, but she knew that the longer and more she denied it, the worse she would feel. “Yes,” she whispered. “And it feels…somewhat different than how I felt with Eren.” She had to clench her teeth and fists before she lost her balance. She remembered visiting Eren’s grave even in the snow to stifle those feelings and deny that her heart could open itself to that vulnerability once more. “Armin…”

“Yes?” asked Amin. “Mikasa, what is it?”

Mikasa, with tears in her clenched eyes, swallowed. “Yes… I think I love him.”

First Kiss

Mikasa felt bashful around Jean. She realized that she was starting to fall for him but worried that she could not give him what he wanted, what she had wanted to give to Eren. She didn’t want to break hearts, yet she didn’t want to lose him. Therefore, she kept a respectable distance from him as they waved to Reiner and Pieck aboard the ship taking them back to Marley. When they reached the train station so Connie and Jean could go to their respective homes, Jean asked Mikasa if he could still write to her. She said yes.

Then, after months of speculation and sickness never bled into her letters, she asked to see him in person and what day they could meet in Trost. She wanted to talk to him and say things that she did not want to put to paper.

The day started out nicely, with Jean’s mother cooking up a feast and gushing over this woman that her son marveled about when he was younger–because, of course, of her strength and that she was a magnificent warrior. Jean’s face burned, but Mikasa didn’t mind. It was nice getting this sense of family again, in which the parents hovered over the offspring no matter how old. When lunch was over, Jean’s mother gave Mikasa a walking tour of Trost and supplemented with stories of Jean’s childhood. No matter how often Jean grumbled, Mikasa was attentive and softly smiled. She liked hearing stories of Jean as an innocent boy oblivious to certain horrors of the world, unaware that he would become one of the greatest soldiers of his generation. She was having such a good time that she didn’t leave until hours after dinner.

Jean walked her to the train station, but before they entered, he stopped and pulled her aside. “Mikasa,” he started almost hesitantly, “what is it that you wanted to tell me in person?”

Mikasa swallowed. “Well…before I get there, I wanted to ask you something–something a little uncomfortable.” When Jean didn’t respond but made an encouraging face, she continued: “Remember when we were all in that cell, in Shiganshina? When…When I asked Armin not to repeat those hurtful things that Eren was saying to me–why did you push him to say them anyway?”

Jean blinked, like he couldn’t believe that she would remember such an awkward conversation. “Well…like I said, I thought that he had a motivation, a reason for wanting to hurt you, and as we all know, he must have had some reason to isolate himself from even you and Armin, given how much he cared about you over everything else.”

Mikasa nodded once. “But why did you want to know, even though you knew that hearing them again would have hurt me again?”

Jean clenched his teeth. “If he was hurting you, you know, to push you away, I needed to know how he was hurting you, to understand why he would hurt you in the first place. And we realized why.” He looked at her with a line between his eyebrows. “Why do you ask?”

Mikasa didn’t respond. Her eyes flickered over his shoulder for a moment. “Does it bother you, still, thinking about how he said things that he probably didn’t mean?” he asked. When she continued to stay silent, he sighed. “I’m sorry, Mikasa. I know how important he was to you, so if I sound like I’m trash-talking someone you love–and I don’t want to be talking badly about him so you would think I’m trying to make you forget him”--

“I don’t want to be Ymir,” she said, “and I don’t want to keep mourning over what could have been.” She gave Jean a look not of vulnerability but of determination, one that had deepened his attraction to her when they were in the trainee corps. “If…If I wanted to visit his grave with someone…would you go with me?”

Jean’s eyes briefly widened. “I’d go with you multiple times a day if you needed,” he said. “Eren was my friend, too, don’t forget, so it would be for you as much as myself. I want to put my friends above myself, just as a husband should for his wife, a father for his children, a neighbor for his neighbor, a citizen for his country.” Then he blinked. “Why?”

Mikasa took a deep breath and swallowed. “Jean…” She touched his face and stared into his eyes and could see that underlying yearning for her–no matter how hard and frequently he insisted that he got over her and was waiting for the right woman.

***

For Jean, kissing Mikasa was a dream that he never thought would come true. For Mikasa, kissing Jean felt like the traumas of her life had been briefly lifted from her and could not touch her at that moment.

First Time

Jean and Mikasa were married on a bright day, what they calculated to be the anniversary of when they first met, when Jean first saw Mikasa and complimented her on her beautiful black hair. Jean nervously chewed on his lip until he saw Mikasa in her bright white gown, clutching the crease of Armin’s elbow and beaming like she was having the best dream of her adult life. He vowed to love her every day of their lives, even in the bad times, and to put her above himself.

His mother sobbed into her hands when her little boy kissed his bride and tilted her back, as he had seen in other weddings. She hugged his shoulders and kissed just as hard and passionately. When they reluctantly parted, the Queen declared that it was time for pictures using the best camera from Marley, and then the orphans for whom Mikasa cared as children brought out the greatest foods and wine, while those skilled in music played instruments. It was like that night in Marley, all of the laughing and drinking and goofy behavior. The reception did not stop until way after dark, so the Queen’s carriage carefully rode their newlywed’s into their own house.

Before leaving to go home, however, Jean told the carriage driver to “go ahead” but told Mikasa that she could close her eyes and rest. When she leaned her head against his shoulder and took his hand, he kissed her temple and studied her smile until the carriage stopped. Jean stepped outside, helped her out of the carriage, and carried her up the hill to the grave with a lantern in one hand. Mikasa’s eyes widened until he reached the headstone and gently set her onto her feet. He greeted the headstone, knelt down, and talked about the beautiful ceremony and how it was so much better than he could have ever dreamed. Then he stepped back and encouraged Mikasa to speak about the wedding. Mikasa talked about Armin giving her away, how beautiful Annie and Historia looked in pink, and the Kirstein jewels that her new mother-in-law had gifted her the night before to wear.

Then Mikasa squatted down without dirtying her gown and laid her bouquet over the grave. “We will see you again soon,” she promised. When she indicated to Jean that she was ready to leave, he picked her up again and carried her down to the carriage, and then she started weeping. He didn’t ask why; he didn’t have to. She still said, “Thank you…for letting him be part of our special day.”

Jean kissed her forehead and reminded her that Eren was his friend, too. He absolutely deserved it. She looked back one last time and then entered the carriage.

Jean and Mikasa, however, did not consummate their marriage that night. When Jean carried his bride into their new home, they spent the early hours of the evening sharing wine, laughing, and singing and dancing even though no music was playing. They were not ready to go to sleep, even though the yawning increased, but they were too jubilant to stop and consider making love for the first time.

The next morning, when Jean and Mikasa failed to meet with their loved ones for a midmorning tea, his concerned parents ventured to their son’s house. The door was unlocked, a wine bottle had spilled onto the floor, and their son and new daughter-in-law were sleeping against the front of the couch, his jacket gone and the back of her gown unzipped. They reeked of wine, and their hair was wild. Jean’s mother was convinced that not even the loudest sounds could wake them up.

When the newlyweds did wake up in the midafternoon, they sheepishly changed into less formal clothes and ate away their hangovers with Mr. Omelet and steamed broccoli and diced bacon. As embarrassed as they were that his parents caught them in that state, the fun they had that night was worth the amused yet slightly judgmental looks. Jean’s father kept reassuring them that it was something to laugh about come their first anniversary. Mikasa didn’t think the humiliation would go away by then–maybe in the next 2,000 years.

Her in-laws did not leave until long after sunset, but they reminded Mikasa about the present upstairs she needed for her special night. After Jean let her change in the bathroom, Mikasa unboxed and pulled out the item that had been tailored for her—a simple white nightgown with golden rods on the straps, a V-shaped neckline that stopped at the top of the sternum, and a small slit at the side. As soon as she pulled it on, she unveiled the matching robe with lace on the cuffs.

She didn’t make a show of it when she walked out of the bathroom, but the look on Jean’s face made her feel very beautiful and very vulnerable. She caressed his jaw as an offer of comfort, and he hugged her very tightly. Only when she kissed his neck and whispered to him did he walk her into their bedroom.

Jean had his eyes closed the entire time that he unbuttoned and removed his shirt. Then he pulled off his socks, unbuckled his belt, and set them on top of the chair. He looked into his bride’s face as he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Then he closed his eyes and decided to remove everything.

Jean stepped out of the clothing and slowly opened his eyes. Mikasa stared at him, transfixed with the length of his bare legs, the muscles in his arms, and the bones of his hips and collar protruding from his skin. He anxiously gripped his thighs and worried what she thought, seeing him at his barest and all of the flaws and scars that he would not have shared with anyone but the woman he loved above others.

Jean took a deep breath and turned around so she could see the back of his body. He was overweight as a boy and still felt insecure about his appearance—was there something about him that made him look unfit to her? Did he gain weight somewhere that she thought undesirable? He swallowed and wrapped his arms around himself. He wished that he knew what she was thinking. What if he gained weight when or if she became pregnant– “papa bellies,” Marlyeans called what they made fun of. That’s why he was more conscious about how much he drank and felt guilty whenever he overindulged.

He didn’t know that she was behind him until he felt her arms wrap around his waist from behind and her face nuzzle into his upper back. “I hope you feel safe with me,” she whispered, “because I feel that around you.” That was enough for Jean to turn around and kiss her until she raised her arms as permission for him to remove the nightgown. They kissed naked for so long that hours must have passed until he asked if they could move to the bed.

She pulled away the comforter and sheets before she lied down. Jean followed and waited for her to feel comfortable. Then he crawled over her and thumbed her cheek. “I trust you,” he whispered. “And I love you.”

Mikasa clasped his neck in both hands. “I love you, too.” Then she closed her eyes and parted her mouth.

The back of Jean’s mind raced with the advice that his father gave him about giving his bride pleasure and easing her through an intimidating, intimate activity, but his main focus was the love he felt for her and how nice it felt to give and feel love. He returned the kiss and imagined the entire world celebrating their union.

They spent the early hours of their wedding night exploring each other and what brought them greater pleasure. Both had come into bed worried about impending awkwardness, but the patience that the other had eased the nervousness as they learned how and where to make good use for future lovemaking. Sometimes they stopped just to hug and savor this new beginning.

Jean thought that the actual act was to be the most memorable moment of the night, but he found that the afterglow, when both were sticky and twitching, his back stung from where she unintentionally clawed him, and her eyes fluttered as she panted, was his favorite. He didn’t feel any different just because he had intercourse for the first time. What was different was that he now had the perfect partner to whom he would make love.

They steadied their breathing when he lay on his back and she nested her head on his chest, fingers stroking his chest, her back. They napped for two hours, woke up to share a glass of water, and relished in the silence as they took in how happy they made each other.

Jean nuzzled her neck and hoped that the joy in his chest would continue beyond that night. They had a lifetime, hopefully, to bring each other and themselves immense happiness. They had only been married for one day, but he was looking forward to this new stage of his life. “I love you,” he whispered into her skin.

“I love you, too,” she whispered back, her fingers intertwining with his in a tight grip.

First Anniversary

Mikasa didn’t know what she was clutching harder–the handful of wildflowers she had just picked, or her husband’s hand. Jean didn’t know if she was more hesitant or excited as they walked up the hill. Even after one year of marriage, he was still learning so much about her, like how she preferred to hang wet laundry and which vinegars she disliked for pickling certain produce.

When they reached the headstone, they crouched down and laid the flowers onto the ground. “Hi Eren,” said Mikasa. “It’s been a while, but it feels like only yesterday that we came to say hi.” She talked about how strange it was to have been married for an entire year, and yet few things seemed to have changed–only the love grew, and the communication improved, and she and Jean felt even closer than before.

“We have a picnic back home, with our friends and family there,” said Jean, “but before we go, Mikasa here has some big news.” He smiled at his wife, who was also beaming.

Mikasa cleared her throat. “We’ve kept it a secret for a while, and…we’re going to share it with everyone else today at the picnic,” she started. “But I just wanted you to be the first one to know.” She took and squeezed Jean’s hand. “Jean and I are having a baby.”

First Baby

Marco was stuck in the birth canal for almost three minutes but slid out before the midwives could suggest kicking Jean out of the room to eject the baby in a more graphic method. He screamed loudly and kicked so hard that the midwives struggled to put a diaper on him before presenting him to his parents. Never before had Mikasa wept in elation, and never before had Jean realized how much love he could give. Everything else in the world didn’t seem to matter as much as this beautiful baby boy.

First Loss

Marco was, at times, an unpredictable child. Some days, he was like clockwork–he woke at the same time, was hungry at the same time, needed changing at the same time, went to sleep at the same time–and some days, he had different needs and tested his parents. Interestingly enough, his sleeping was also unpredictable. Some nights, he cried in the middle of the night for no reason–not even a midnight feeding. Some nights, he slept soundly through thunderstorms and that one time his mother screeched in bed.

Jean did his best to calm his wife and care for her before he ran downstairs to use the phone, and then ran back up as soon as he hung up. He tended to her the entire time, in shock and disbelief and absolute horror, tears and sweat in his eyes because this nightmare was worse than anything he had ever experienced. Then he ran downstairs, let in the guest, and hurried her back to his bedroom.

All that time, Marco slept on.

The doctor asked so many questions in an effort to calm the couple, and then looked up with a crestfallen expression. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You lost the baby.”

Mikasa wailed into her fist and rocked back and forth. She didn’t even know she was pregnant–they hadn’t even tried, since they wanted to wait until Marco was at least two–and she lost what could have been another great source of joy for her. Jean wept, too, and calmed himself by stroking her hair and rocking her back and forth. So many lost opportunities, regardless if it was a boy or girl, the jobs, the hobbies, the grandchildren, the trouble, the bad periods… Jean kissed Mikasa’s temple and sniffed. “I don’t know how to get over it,” he whispered.

The doctor let the couple weep and use up their tears, and then made sure that Mikasa stopped bleeding. She helped Jean change the sheets as well and then asked Mikasa about her diet and lifestyle–but nothing added up. Sometimes, bodies did not always carry full pregnancies.

Mikasa felt like she was a child again, confident that her mother was having another baby, and to know that the baby had died with their mother in that one moment… She sniffed in Jean’s shoulder again.

“I do have good news, though,” said the doctor. “You can still have children–I would just wait for three more months to try again.”

Mikasa lifted her head, as did Jean. “What?”

The doctor smiled. “Some women, after a miscarriage, they can’t get pregnant ever again, or another pregnancy kills them.”

Jean shivered.

“Based on your lifestyle and your previous pregnancy, you can try to conceive again after at least three months,” the doctor repeated. She smiled when the couple looked relieved and kissed each other. They could still have another baby. Hope was not lost. Yes, this loss would bother them for life, but as long as they kept living long lives to the fullest, it would not ache as much.

First Girl

Sasha was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck and did not breathe for her first five minutes of life. She admired her parents, hated potatoes, played with a doll that had belonged to her namesake, always received a pretty dress from her grandmother, and was afraid of the Yeagerists.

First Crime

She studied the crowd with blurred, bruised eyes. She listened to the man to her left recount her crimes and explain why she had been badly tortured. Her wrists were raw and still burned from the ropes, and her lungs hitched every time she took a deep breath. She tried to swallow. She watched them swing the noose in front of her and then drape over her head.

Punishment, they declared, for disloyalty to the Yeagerists… The punishment for defiance. The noose was tight around her neck. She was going to die without saying any last words–

Just then, she heard a familiar swipe and clink of a long sword, and then a weight pushed her out of the way without the noose. The crowd gasped as the weight carried her over the crowd. “Hurry!” cried a familiar voice, one that she had not heard in years. “Go over to the border and bring Hitch to Annie!”

Hitch forced her swollen eyes to open, and she could see through the disguise–she could recognize that horse face anywhere. Then he dropped her onto a horse and panted. “Go!” he yelled. Hitch immediately, though in disbelief, processed that she was embracing her old roommate from behind and clung to Annie as the horse galloped away from the Yeagerists that tried to hang her for her “betrayal”--having a change of heart, becoming a secret agent for the Queen and the Alliance. She was tired of years of empty threats that never came to fruition, and she slowly hated the notion of children becoming involved and fighting on the streets. With help from the Alliance, Annie and the other ambassadors were able to secure Hitch asylum in Hizuru.

Once they escaped the crowds, but not before kicking Rico in the face hard enough to make blood fly, Jean pulled his wife into an empty alley and removed the mask from over the top half of his face and head. “We did it,” he whispered.

“And soon they will target us,” Mikasa reminded him. “They will know that somehow we knew that Hitch began to work for the Queen…and they’ll target our children before they target us.”

Jean cupped Mikasa’s face in his hands. “We will fight back,” he said, always the optimist when she was the pessimist. “Not today, or tomorrow, but one day. We’re Scouts–we never give up.”

First Family Trip

Once the island faded from view, Mikasa took a deep breath and leaned against her husband’s shoulder. He rubbed her arms and concentrated on the relief they shared. It was dark that night, and the children were cranky and sleepy, but they and Connie managed to board a steamship ahead of schedule. They knew that the Yeagerists would piece together their rule in Hitch’s escape, so the earlier they fled, the safer they would be. The Queen, as before, protected Jean’s parents so the couple could ensure that the entire family was not going into hiding as they rushed to Hizuru for a peace conference–and for Mikasa to learn more of her heritage.

The family missed breakfast the next day, but Kiyomi welcomed them in Hizuru with Armin and Annie at her side; Reiner and Pieck would join within a week. Kiyomi greeted Jean, doted on how big Marco and Sasha were growing, and embraced Mikasa with open arms. Then they hurried to the undisclosed location where the family would stay for their tenure in Hizuru, with the tightest security: In addition to the growing bump under Annie’s clothes, Mikasa admitted that she was three months pregnant with her third child.

***

Despite the tension due to the ongoing events in Paradis, neither Mikasa nor Jean had experienced so much fun, especially with their children. Kiyomi took them, the children, Armin, Annie, Connie, Reiner, and Pieck on a boat tour around the rebuilding and famous waterfalls of the land. Then they explored a “zoo” featuring animals from all over the world, and where the zookeepers allowed Marco and Sasha to feed the animals. Marco and Sasha took painting lessons while their father was in meetings and listened to translators read aloud history books of Hizuru. Connie took Sasha out to sample desserts, and Armin and Annie walked with Marco around beautiful gardens on days when Mikasa was too tired from morning sickness. She overcame her morning sickness–and began showing–in time for the alliance to travel to Marley for another round of accords agreements.

Two days after the Kirsten family arrived in Marley, Annie went into labor. Mr. Leonhart left to bring the midwife while Jean, Connie, Reiner, and Pieck took Marco and Sasha out to explore the city. Mikasa agreed to help Armin coach Annie through her contractions, and Hitch, who felt out of place in Hizuru but was not ready to go back to Paradis yet, kindly prepared the room for the birth with towels, boiling water, and scissors.

Armin was nervous about Mikasa being around Annie, given the stress it would put on her unborn child, but Mikasa reassured him that her child would be safe. She explained to Annie the different stages of labor and told Armin how to motivate her to breathe–by counting between contractions. Annie squeezed Mikasa’s hand through pushes, but Mikasa squeezed back and reminded Armin, over and over, to coach his wife into breathing until, after five hours, their little one was born. Mr. Leonhart embraced the baby with tears in his eyes, and Marco and Sasha awed over baby Arlet. Annie, on the other hand, looked at her baby with more love than she had ever given anyone, even her husband.

The alliance threw a small party for the baby after Marco and Sasha went to bed, and Annie decided to go on hiatus until her baby was six months old; Hitch volunteered to be the “nanny” until or unless she could return to Paradis. In the end, she decided not to go back when the accords were completed, and the Kirsten family prepared to go back to deliver the baby on the island.

The children had finished breakfast and were scrambling to change out of their pajamas, but Mikasa had dressed before so she could spend some time alone on the bow of the ship to watch the island grow bigger in view.

She caressed the giant bump under her dress. Welcome home, little one, she mentally told her unborn. I hope that you will have a safer childhood here on this island than children before you.

***

Zoe was born on a warm, sunny afternoon. Unlike her namesake, she was careful around what intrigued her.

First Gray

Mikasa impatiently wiped breastmilk from the top of her dress and shook her head. The smell was going to stay, and the dress needed extra washing. Of her three children, Zoe was the messiest eater. Mikasa very much looked forward to and dreaded when the time came to introduce Zoe to solid foods.

She set down the rag and walked back to the living room, where Jean was teaching Marco to read, and Sasha was on the floor trying to teach Zoe how to roll over. Unfortunately, Marco looked up at his mother and pointed at her. “You still have some stuff in your hair,” he informed her. Jean chided him for being rude, but Mikasa thanked her son and went to the bathroom to check in the mirror.

She wet a washcloth, ran it over the milk in her hair, and was about to toss it into the bin when she noticed that she missed a spot. Mikasa frowned and wiped at it again, but it did not come off. She used her fingers, but even that did not remove the white in her hair. She leaned forward and realized that it was not milk but a strand of gray hair.

At that moment, the whole world around her seemed to shift. She was growing older. Her time in the world was limiting. She would have less time to spend with her children and husband. She would not be able to experience everything she wanted since she learned of the world outside the island.

Then she heard tiny footsteps thundering her way, and she left the bathroom in time to hear Sasha complain about how Zoe was too slow to learn to roll over. Mikasa had to laugh–after all, Sasha learned to talk before she could walk, but it was the other way around for Marco, and Sasha learned to roll over before she could lift her head. Mikasa wore a mask for the rest of the day and supervised the children washing vegetables for dinner, picking up and putting away their toys, and changing into their pajamas. She nursed Zoe while Jean supervised the children brushing their teeth, cleaned up the baby’s messy chin, and put her in her crib.

Mikasa studied the gray hair and searched her scalp for more small grays when Jean knocked on the door. “Mikasa? Are you coming to bed yet?” When she didn’t respond, Jean walked in and saw her staring at herself in the mirror. Mikasa didn’t notice him until he put his hands on her shoulders. She spun around with tears in her eyes, and Jean’s face fell. “Mika? What’s wrong?”

Mikasa swallowed and pointed to the gray hair. “Jean…I’m graying. I’m getting older, and I–I’m…I’m losing time in my life.”

Jean cupped his hands around her face, and the look of unconditional, pure love that he gave her with his eyes and mouth made her heart melt every time. “You’re always beautiful, Mika,” he whispered. “Don’t ever think that I will fall out of love with you because your hair turns all gray or all white–or that you’re getting older and aging.” He kissed her temple and turned around. “If I truly wanted you to look a certain way for as long as you lived…would I ask you to do this with me?”

Mikasa watched him turn on the faucet in the bathtub and proceed to undress. Then he outstretched his hand to her, which she took, and helped her out of her clothes before they stepped into the rising warm water. Jean studied his wife’s body–stretch marks, a more fleshy midsection from three pregnancies, and flaky nipples on swollen breasts–and became teary eyed. “Mikasa, I only fall more in love with you every day, and I fall in love with you all over again in the morning. How can I not?” He cupped her face and wiped her wet cheekbones. “Remember–I will love you everyday, just as I do now, until I die.” He pulled his wife to his chest and positioned her hand over his heart. “And all I care about is that you are my partner, and that we work through good and bad to raise our children.”

Mikasa’s eyes watered again, and she snuggled closer to her husband. Nothing, not even Zoe’s crying, could get her to move away.

First Health Scare

Zoe, at only two, was more helpful to her parents in the market, unlike Marco and Sasha, who preferred to run around and look for other children to play with, or ask for samples of cheese or pastries from vendors. While Marco and Sasha skipped to the butcher’s to taste different sausages, Jean asked Zoe to carry the bunch of celery that he bought, promising her a longer playtime in the afternoon. Zoe’s eyes sparkled, but Mikasa knew that Jean was tasking Zoe with minor assistance just so she would gradually stop sucking on her thumb.

“Marco, Sasha!” Mikasa yelled, a bag in one arm and Zoe’s hand in hers. “Don’t run too far!”

The children sighed and walked over to the baker’s stand to wait for their parents. They nibbled on samples of sourdough bread while their parents and sister continued with their shopping. Given their father’s good work and their mother’s notoriety as one of the best soldiers in the island’s history, everyone in the market was very friendly and looked after the Kirstein children.

“Hey Mika,” Jean hissed. “Could we…stop for a bit? I need to sit down…”

Mikasa watched her husband, sweating so much on a chilly day, lose all color in his face and sit down between vendors and nearly drop the bag in his arm. His hands were shaking.

“Jean?” Mikasa knelt down and set her bag by his. “Jean? What is it…”

Jean was hissing, but he couldn’t breathe well, and he struggled to speak. Mikasa, still holding Zoe’s arm, lifted her head. “Someone call for help!” she yelled. “Hurry! He needs a doctor!”

As people began to step away from the young couple, Mikasa yelled for her two older children to hurry over. Marco and Sasha dashed to their mother’s side, and parents pulled away their children to give the family space, and a public carriage that was driving by rather quickly suddenly stopped. The conductor jumped off, threw open the door to the carriage, and helped Mikasa heave Jean inside. Then he encouraged the children, who were sobbing and clutching each other’s arms, inside and raced to the hospital. There the staff took Jean away while a doctor interrogated Mikasa about her husband’s medical history. She was patient with the woman who answered as truthfully as she could all while consoling three hysterical children who worried that they would never see their father again.

As soon as she was done, the doctor rushed to the emergency room and told Mikasa to wait outside. Mikasa shook as she used the pay phone—a true gift from Marley—to call her mother-in-law and tell her to come over immediately.

For three hours straight, Mikasa hugged her babies and wept. Eren, she mentally prayed, if you can hear me…please save Jean. Spare him from death. You want us to live long lives…so please allow him to live until a very old age. She let the tears fall and rocked her children as calmly as she could.

***

Mikasa didn’t realize that she fell asleep until she sensed a presence in front of her. It was the doctor. “Ma’am?” she whispered. “You are his wife, correct?”

Mikasa briefly checked on her children. Zoe was asleep against her shoulder, with her tiny arms around Mikasa’s neck, and Marco and Sasha were curled fetal position on the bench. She nodded at the doctor, who informed her that Jean was alive and in stable condition; he could probably return home in a day or two. They were still trying to find a cause for the heart attack, but so far recommended that Jean rest in bed for a few days and refrain from strenuous activities for at least a month.

The doctor looked down at the children sleeping around their mother. “When they wake up, you can see him,” she added.

Mikasa smiled at her children and propped Zoe’s head onto her shoulder. “Marco, Sasha, wake up,” she hissed with gentle shakes on their shoulders. They whined and rubbed their eyes. “Keep your voices down,” she added. “Let’s see Papa.”

Marco’s and Sasha’s eyes widen, and they hopped off the bench to follow Mikasa into the hospital room. Jean was awake, and his smile upon seeing Mikasa and the children was something she wanted to remember every day for life. He kissed their foreheads and the back of Zoe’s head as she slept, and then pulled in Mikasa for a long kiss. He reassured Marco and Sasha that he was not dying; it was just something very scary, but as long as he kept eating well, limited how much he drank, avoided cigarettes and cigars, and did not sit around all day, he would have less trips to the hospital. Marco and Sasha nodded and talked about the pastries and meat and cheese they ate at the market until Jean’s mother came in. She embraced her son, kissed her grandchildren, and stayed until visiting hours ended, after which she and Mikasa reluctantly left.

As Mikasa had tucked the children into bed, Mama Kirstein opened the door and saw that the knocking was from Austin, a little boy from the neighborhood and one of Marco’s classmates. He saw that Mikasa left behind her bag of food at the market, so he took it home to hold on to until she came back; some of the tomatoes were ruined, so he asked his parents to replace them and not have Mikasa and Jean pay them back. When Mama Kirstein told Mikasa, Mikasa had a sense of relief that not all children were doomed. Yes, the mindset of the Yeagerists still plagued many children, but then there were those parents who were raising their children differently, to be good neighbors and live for peace, not power. “You and my son raised your children good,” Mama Kirstein reassured her. “You should be proud.”

Mikasa took her mother-in-law’s hand over their teacups and squeezed. “I’m always proud. I just hope that I will continue to be prouder when they grow into adults.”

Mama Kirstein’s smile widened. “Then continue to use this time–their time as children–wisely. Every day they live and learn, there’s no going back.” She watched Mikasa nod and smile at her wise words.

First In-Law

Mikasa considered herself fortunate to have a wonderful ally and mentor so that she would have strong feelings, but every day she seemed to miss her mother-in-law even more. Mrs. Kirstein had died only eight years before, but it was still hard to process losing another mother figure. She had lost two mothers but never a mother-in-law who still taught her something every time they saw each other. As much as she tried to apply everything she learned from her own mother and Carla to her own children, she also took into account the kind of woman that Jean’s mother had been, and the mother-in-law that she wanted to be.

Marco must have noticed, for he flexed his arm that she clutched. “Mama,” he whispered, “don’t worry.”

Mikasa dabbed her wet cheeks but smiled as she walked with him, taking in the smiles from her husband, their daughters, and young men she had watched grow up. Then she kissed Marco’s cheek before she joined her husband. It seemed so long ago that he was born, that she and Jean took him to visit the grave for the first time, that he took a solo trip to Hizuru. Time was too fast for Mikasa to process.

Just then, the music started playing. As if they were on the same wavelength, Mikasa, Jean, and the guests stood up and turned around in time to see Marissa and her father step into view. Mikasa’s eyes burned with tears. Marissa looked so beautiful in white, and the Kirstein jewels–which Mikasa had gifted to her the night before, as Mama Kirstein had for her–only complimented Marissa’s appearance. Marissa, however, only had eyes for Marco at the altar. Only when Marissa approached her fiance did Mikasa see that her baby boy was sobbing harder than he ever did as a child, and then Mikasa started crying because she could feel how happy he was. He might not have been a baby for years, but the motherly instinct and connection remained strong. She could even feel how joyful Sasha and Zoe felt, wiping their own cheeks and hiding half of their faces behind their bouquets.

Marco and Marissa pledged their lives to each other, but only when they kissed did the tears flow–not just because of joy, but because she truly felt the reward of her sacrifice and of her putting her life on the line for the island.

***

The reception, one of the most fun that Mikasa and Jean had ever been to, consisted of people they have met and collected over the years. The alliance met and danced with Marco’s former schoolteachers and the grown orphans whom Mikasa helped raise. Mikasa and Jean introduced Hitch to Austin, Marco’s best man, and his family, and Marco’s friends from Hizuru. Historia’s daughter challenged Armin and Annie’s son to a tap dance round, which she sorely lost.

When it was time to give speeches, Mikasa spoke about welcoming Marissa into the family with open arms and how proud she was of the man that Marco had grown to become; Jean said that he knew that he had done right as a father from seeing how Marco not only treated Marissa, but also how he picked someone who was as good for him as he was for her. Then Sasha and Zoe giggled through their speeches to their brother and new sister-in-law, and then Marissa’s parents gushed over how glad they were to welcome Marco as another son into their family.

“We did good,” Jean whispered with a kiss to her ear. “I knew that you would be an amazing mother–and now look at the adults our children have grown up into.”

Mikasa, however, still thought of her late mother-in-law and how happy she was to have her as a third mother figure. Now, as she watched Marco dance with his bride, Zoe feed her fiancé cubes of cheese, and Sasha laugh in the arms of her boyfriend, she felt less mournful and more excited to be as great a mother-in-law as her own had been, and to watch her children’s continuing evolution.

First Grandchild

Age was slowly catching up with them. Neither Mikasa nor Jean remembered the first signs that their bodies were weakening, but once Jean’s back started to ache when he walked or stood, and Mikasa’s hip flared in pain for no reason at times, the discomforts only seemed to spread and grow, and even reopen old wounds from their past. They managed to hide it from their children for a while, but any time one of them felt too stiff or unable to move, they reflected on Jean’s parents in the last years of their lives–the canes, the extra support, the winces, the groans, the hisses, and the constant fear that one day, one of them would fall and never be able to get up.

Death was not quite upon them yet, they knew, but they knew that it was closer since they cheated out of an early demise years ago. Death was not quite upon them yet, so they made the full use of the lives they still had.

For all the cruelty that the world was full of, as Mikasa knew, the world was also of beauty, from nature to small miracles. She said that all the time to her children as they grew up and complained about minor injustices and major disappointments. She suspected that she would say that to her grandchildren. As it turned out, it was the first thing she said to her very first grandchild.

She remembered being with Sasha when her daughter went into labor, and Sasha spent the entire trip to the hospital panicking that her husband would not make it into the delivery room on time. Mikasa stayed with her daughter throughout the labor, held her hands, hummed to her the lullaby that lured her and her siblings to sleep when they were babies, and coached her into breathing and stretching. Fortunately, her son-in-law made it right in time for Sasha to begin pushing. Mikasa was so fixated on her daughter’s well-being that only when she heard the first cries did it occur to her that she was now a grandmother.

She lived to embrace a title that her own mother never could.

When she first peeked at the tiny red face, her eyes burning with tears as she recalled all of the people she lost and the opportunity they could never have, she whispered, “Welcome to the world. It is both cruel and beautiful.”

She said that every time that she embraced her granddaughter, just as she had reflected on them that night. The world was still cruel, but few things were as beautiful as watching Jean, despite the wheezing and the knees that burned every time he walked down the stairs, bottle feeding their granddaughter. Little Ashly’s eyelids fluttered to the pattern of her grandfather’s rocking, the way he rocked her mother, aunt, and uncle. It felt like old times, feeding a crying baby, but without the stress of putting the older child–then children–back to bed. For a moment, they felt like they were taken back to when it was just them and Marco, back when they were excited but also extremely stressed new parents who had no idea whether they should follow Jean’s parents’ parenting advice or learn on their own. In that time, Mikasa and Jean had grown wiser, and their relationship had grown stronger. The heartache from their past no longer tormented them as it used to.

When Ashly stopped eating, Jean propped her onto his shoulder and patted her warm back. She barely resisted and was quick to belch. Mikasa chuckled and held out her arms for her granddaughter. It was a warm night, and embracing Ashly always made her sweat, but she never missed an opportunity to hug the little one, her newest love. She hummed to Ashly even after she had fallen asleep and hugged her for twenty more minutes. Then she reluctantly put Ashly back in the crib, joined her husband back at the kitchen table, and wheezed now that she could no longer exhale. They chatted about their new source of happiness and their hopes that she would grow up to be as great as, if not greater than, her parents, aunt, and uncle.

Nevertheless, Mikasa always felt wistful when she looked at her first grandchild. She remembered wondering, especially back after Marco was born, what kind of child she was and yearning for the innocent life she lived as that little girl in the cabin. Now, she wanted to spend her final days, months, years in pride about the life she lived after she thought she lost everything.

First Morning Without

Jean started to wake up from a heavy, bittersweet dream. He dreamt that Mikasa was dying, and that he had called his children, their spouses, and the grandchildren, who all arrived within two hours. Luckily, the grandchildren–four beautiful darlings, two little boys and two little girls–were on their best behavior and calmly, though tearfully, kissed their grandmother. Then the in-laws led the children downstairs to “play” and give their spouses time alone with their mother.

Mikasa wept as she conversed with her husband and children. She loved them, and she was so scared to leave behind those she loved most. She gripped Jean’s hand as tightly as she could, and he reassured her that she had not lost her Ackerman strength even in old age.

“You’ve lived a good life, Mom,” Zoe whispered to her. “Very few people have done as much, or are even as brave as you… You’re a hero.” She brushed Mikasa’s hair from her forehead and quickly dabbed at her own dripping nose.

Marco and Sasha agreed. “We’re so fortunate that you’re our mother,” added Sasha. “Think of all you’ve done in your life–and look at the reward: a new chance at family. And you always say how proud you are of us.”

Mikasa nodded with tears. “I am, sweetheart,” she whispered. “You have been incredible children, and you are amazing adults and parents…”

“We couldn’t have done it, or be where we are now without you, Mom,” said Marco. “You gave life another chance.”

Mikasa nodded along. Then Jean rubbed up her arm. “I love you so much, Mika,” he whispered. He reached forward and wrapped the scarf–the one material item she held onto since her youth–tighter around her shoulders. “As much as I already miss you…think of all the people we have lost and missed for years, and how…” He stopped and sniffed but didn’t wipe his eyes. “Think…you will get to see them again, people we have missed for over fifty years…”

Mikasa’s eyes widened, and then she beamed. “Thank you, Jean…for being there for me when I needed you…for–for wrapping this scarf tighter around me…when I needed it.” She knew what her children were thinking–that they owed their entire existence to one man they never met, who led her to healing and love with an old friend–and that their father had been a great source of comfort to her in the years leading up to that moment. She gazed into their three faces and turned her head so she could see Jean’s face as well. “Thank you all…for being my family… I love you all…”

Then Jean woke up and saw his wife lying in front of him, her eyes closed, a peaceful smile on her lips. Her chest didn’t rise. Then he remembered that it wasn’t a dream, nor was the sobbing or the cries from his children as they left the room to give him space. He remembered how the world seemed to shift at that moment, when he had to let her go and live the remainder of his life without the partner he loved for years, who brought him as much happiness as he gave her.

He knew that their children were sleeping in their childhood bedrooms with their spouses and children, so before they could wake up and the in-laws would cook breakfast to make him, his children, and the grandchildren eat, he kissed her cheek, pushed himself up, and opened the window the way she liked to wake him up on beautiful mornings.

The sunlight and breeze kissed the tear stains on Jean’s face. Say hello to the suicidal maniac for me, please, he prayed.

***

Mikasa let him rock her back and forth in his arms, tearlessly sobbing in joy and grief. “I’m so glad you lived a long, happy life,” Eren whispered to her. He must have known that she was also grieving, for he added, “You will see them again…but for now, let them live their long lives.”

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