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The room wasn’t quite what he would have expected, if he’d expected anything at all. The floor and the walls were the kind of white he remembered from the cave below the Reiss chapel, glowing faintly with a bluish glimmer. The ceiling was lost in the same hazy glow, like daylight filtered through a low fog. He felt neither hot nor cold, and when he reached out to touch the back of one of the metal and canvass chairs that stood in four neat rows of eight in the centre of the room, the steel was hard to his touch, but had no temperature that he could detect.
“Where am I?” he asked aloud, surprised not by the lack of an echo, but by the absence of any noticeable resonance at all.
“Take a seat,” a voice said. “Someone will be with you.”
He sat at one end of the second row, vaguely bothered by the fact that the invisible speaker had given no indication of how long he would have to wait.
After some indeterminate length of time had passed, it occurred to him to wonder what exactly he was waiting for.
A door opened and someone in dark trousers and a white tunic-style top came through it. Consulting a machine of some kind held in one hand, the person looked up with a slight, business-like smile. “Levi Ackerman?”
He knew it was his name, but for a moment he struggled to feel any connection to it. “… Yes.”
“Hello, Levi. I’m your facilitator for this re-entry. Sorry to have kept you – we’re running a little behind schedule today. How are you feeling?”
“I…”
“Some disorientation is quite normal, especially after an abrupt exit. Do you remember how you got here?”
“I suppose I died.”
“That’s right.”
“I see. Did I at least -”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any information about your actions or their consequences. We don’t have the resources to monitor individual patterns except in very exceptional circumstances – we only sample key splits. If you choose to retain your memories upon re-entry you may meet previous contacts who can answer your questions.”
“Re-entry?”
“Rebirth, if you prefer. I’m sorry Mr. Ackerman – there are protocols, but, as I explained, we’re rather behind. If you could make your choice immediately, it would be very helpful.”
“My choice?”
“If you would. Please answer the question clearly. Do you wish to retain your memories in your next incarnation?”
“Incarnation?”
“Yes? Oh… Let me check…” Looking down at the device, the facilitator frowned slightly. “Ah, I see. My apologies – I didn’t realize this was your first time in secondary transition. You seem unusually composed… And you seem to have had a rather high number of primary transitions – perhaps your timeline contained a whorl or an eddy? I don’t have time… I supposed I’d better find you a specialist. Please wait here.”
When the facilitator had departed, Levi waited, wondering what was happening to the others. Had he’d failed? But then, if he’d succeeded…
“Levi Ackerman? Sorry about the confusion. I’m here to explain your situation, and to facilitate your first secondary transition.”
Despite looking exactly the same as the first facilitator – genderless, ageless - this one’s tone was subtly different, exuding a sense of calm behind which Levi thought he detected a kind of youthful excitement.
“This is your first time dealing with… someone like me?” he guessed.
“Oh dear – does it show? Yes – you’re my first case of this kind. Eddies like the one you were trapped in are relatively rare. But that won’t mean much to you… I apologize – this hasn’t been a smooth transition for you so far, has it? We’re really very busy at the moment.”
Levi looked pointedly at the rows of empty chairs. The facilitator followed the direction of his gaze. “Ah – the room is designed to reassure, but there’s never anyone else. This is your transition. If you’d like a more elaborate setting… Fields and forests are popular choices. Some people like a mountain top, or a view of a river, or an ocean.”
Levi shook his head. “I… was hoping to meet someone…”
“Someone from your previous embodiment?”
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t happen here. But if you choose to retain your memories in the next incarnation, there’s a possibility of meeting loved ones again.”
“Right. Then, yeah, that’s what I want.”
“You should understand the process, before you make that choice. Your situation is far from unique, but it is relatively unusual. Your first incarnation happened to place you into what we call an eddy. Your timeline was essentially stuck in a loop, repeating with only minor differences over and over again. You probably won’t have much memory of those other primary incarnations because each one was so similar to the first. But some event in your last journey has either released the eddy entirely, so the whole timeline has moved on, or has thrown you out of it. If the first is the case, the probability of meeting souls you knew before is fairly high. Even we don’t understand the algorithm, but connected souls often seem to reconnect in other lifetimes. But if the event that removed you from the eddy only related to you personally, it’s unlikely that you would encounter anyone you knew again.”
“Can’t you tell which it was?”
“No. I’m afraid our ability to observe is very limited.”
“Right. So you’re saying I’m going to be born again, into a completely different life, and I can choose if I want to remember the last one?”
“That’s correct.”
“Wouldn’t that be weird though? When I’m just a kid…”
“It doesn’t happen like that. The memories will return gradually throughout childhood, usually starting with dreams. It can be disorientating at first. But by the time your mind is fully mature you’ll remember everything, except for your transition. No one is permitted to remember the transition space until they return here, whichever choice they make.”
“I see. Then, yeah. I want that.”
“If you choose to forget, your life will seem entirely new. You’ll have no memories of any other lives until you return here. If you meet anyone who remembers you from another life, you won’t remember that person at all, no matter what they tell you about who you were. In that case, previous life memories can’t be retrieved until you die and return here.”
“I get it. I want to remember.”
“I’m told it can be lonely living with past-life memories in a world where you never meet anyone you knew. And perhaps even more so if you do meet people you knew who have chosen to forget.”
“Can you tell me if he… if Erwin Smith chose to remember, when he came here?”
The facilitator’s tone sounded wistful when the reply came: “That’s a frequently asked question, but I’m afraid the answer is no. It’s not permitted to discuss the transitions of other souls, even if we had the resources to keep that kind of information on everyone.”
“Right. So even if I do find him again, he might not remember me?”
“That’s correct.”
“Will I recognize him if we do meet?”
“Almost certainly. Again, we’re not sure how it happens, but souls that have met before usually seem to recognize each other, even when reincarnated into quite different bodies.”
Levi nodded firmly. “I want to remember.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. When you’re ready to move on, pass through the door to your right.”
Levi turned his head and saw that a wooden door he remembered as having once led into a Shiganshina basement had appeared in the softly glowing whiteness of the wall. When he looked back the facilitator had disappeared, but he heard words somewhere, either in the air, or in his head – “Please accept our good wishes as you embark on your next embodiment.”
There seemed to be no reason to hesitate in the waiting room. Resolute, Levi opened the door and stepped through it.
It had been a lonely kind of life, Levi reflected, turning his head, despite the pain it cost him, to look at the picture of his long-dead mother beside his hospital bed. The bots in his system registered the pain and removed it, if not quite as quickly as they had done yesterday. The med droid beside him beeped in protest before its smooth, low voice said, “Please keep still. Your MedCom nanotech is unable to function at full capacity unless you comply.”
Levi closed his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m ready to go now.”
“Certainly, Sir. Please state your pre-arranged code word or phrase.”
“Erwin Smith.”
“Please confirm.”
Levi smiled, forcing his tired vocal cords into a last utterance. “Erwin Smith.”
At his command, the bots inside his hundred-and-sixty-year-old body administered their gentle poisons.
When he opened his eyes, he remembered the first transition, and the choice he had made. The waiting room was the same as it had been the first time. The facilitator spoke as the first one had done, in calm, impersonal tones.
“Please answer the question clearly. Do you wish to retain your memories in your next incarnation?”
“Yes.”
This time the door that appeared reminded him of the polished steel elevators in the hospital. The two halves of the door slid open silently as Levi approached. He stepped through without hesitation.
The theft of a crystal cruet and half a dozen silver teaspoons was a hanging offence and the prisoner knew it, but seemed unmoved. It wasn’t until he looked up from the dock and met the eyes of the judge that he showed any emotion.
“How old are you?” the judge asked, not unkindly.
“Erwin?”
The prison guard beside him sneered. “He asked you your age, not your name, idiot!”
The prisoner was still staring at the judge. “Erwin? You don’t remember…”
“I asked you how old you are, boy?” the judge prompted mildly.
A strange expression – mixed anger and despair – crossed the prisoner’s pinched face. “Not a boy. Twenty-one.”
“You could have passed for younger,” the judge said.
“It doesn’t matter. I know what I’ve done. Get it over with.”
“Is that an admission of guilt?”
“Yeah. I’m a thief. It’s how I live. I know it’s not right, but I do it anyhow.”
The judge leaned forward over the bench, seeming more interested than angry. “If you know it’s wrong, why do you do it?”
The prisoner rolled his eyes. “Pays better than any job they’d give me. Feeds me an – Keeps me fed. I won’t beg. Hand down your sentence.”
“You have dependents?”
“No one who won’t survive without me.”
“Don’t you want to live?” the judge asked.
Levi looked into hazel eyes in a stern, narrow face and felt again the shock of recognition. This man looked nothing like Erwin, not the Erwin he had known, and yet he was utterly certain that it was Erwin’s soul looking back at him - looking back at him, and seeing a stranger.
“This hasn’t been much of a life,” Levi replied. “If you don’t know me, then…”
“What do you mean?”
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter. Do what the law says you have to do.”
The judge nodded slowly, and raised his gavel.
Levi took his accustomed seat in the waiting room. It had been another long life in the end, after Erwin’s act of intended mercy. The facilitator posed the usual question, and Levi gave his usual answer. This time, the doors took the form of wooden steps leading up to an open hatchway, like the ones on the transport ship that had taken him to the other side of the world. If he hesitated, as he put his foot on the first step, it was only for the space of a heartbeat.
This time he lived for only thirty-two years, although that wasn’t considered young among his people. He was a hunter – one of the few with strength enough to draw the great bows that gave the bronze arrowheads enough force to pierce the scaled flesh of their targets. Many women, and some men, wanted to share his hearth-fire and his bed. Over the years some became friends, and three became lovers, but none of them was Erwin.
As he lay dying, mauled beyond saving by a monster bigger than any of the rest of them had seen before, he thought about how these people would mourn him with bonfires, drums, and songs, and how they would bury him in a stone tomb beneath a steep-sided earth mound, laid out beside his bow with a quiver full of arrows at his side, his eyes weighted closed by coins of river gold – and his mind went back to a quiet wood-walled room, sparsely furnished but clean, where he had once laid a body on a bed and taken a cold hand between his own warm ones, and held on to it, just for a moment, as though –
“Please answer the question clearly –”
“Yes. I want to remember.”
He took a breath before he pushed aside the heavy dragon-hide door-flap and walked through.
In a rainforest park biome on the two hundred and thirteenth floor of Cielopolis Urbild Twelve, Levi was distracted from his pruning by a voice coming from somewhere not far above his left kneecap. Looking down he saw a very small, wide-eyed child staring up at him with earnest intensity.
“I finded a – a nanimial.”
“Yeah?”
“Look!”
Levi put down his secateurs carefully, and turned to look as the child opened its cupped hands in a way that reminded him of Isabel.
“Ah – yeah. That’s a jewel lizard. Young one.”
“Pretty!”
“Yeah.”
The child turned away and yelled with surprising volume, “Daddy! I finded a pretty izard!”
“You found a pretty lizard? Let me see?”
The child’s father was tall and blond, and his eyes were Erwin’s blue, but his face wasn’t Erwin’s until he smiled.
“Oh!”
Erwin looked from the child to Levi, his smile fading to something impersonal and his eyebrows rising in a question at Levi’s involuntary exclamation. “It’s not harmful is it? I thought all the wildlife in this park was child-friendly?”
It took Levi a moment to realize that he was talking about the lizard. “No – no, it’s fine. Yeah – everything’s safe here. The – uh – your kid did well to catch it though. They’re fast.”
Erwin visibly swelled with paternal pride. “She’s always had good motor skills for her age. When she was a baby she could hold her head up from the start, and the midwife said she must have good muscle tone.”
“How old is she?”
“Two and a half.”
They both looked down at the child, who was just about managing to hold on to the lizard as it ran from hand to hand. A woman approached, her smile taking in Erwin and their daughter with equal, encompassing warmth, one hand resting lightly on her very obviously pregnant belly. Levi turned away and snipped dead side-shoots off a couple of orchids with perhaps unnecessary force.
“Do you have any children?” Erwin asked.
Levi glanced at Erwin and his happy family again, and had to look away. “No. Not something I ever… No.”
“Levi!” It was the woman’s voice, and Levi raised his head sharply, at once hopeful and confused, but she was looking away, back along the path the way they had come. The mystery was solved a moment later when a boy of about five emerged suddenly from between two ferns and grinned up at his mother. “Boo! I was hiding!”
“I thought we’d lost you in the wild jungle! Come and see the lizard Iara found.”
Levi attempted a laugh. “Any more of you hiding in there?”
Erwin smiled at him. “No – this is it.”
“For now,” the woman added.
“Do you work here?” the boy called Levi asked.
“Yeah.”
“Whoa! I wanna work here when I’m grown up. All these cool animals and stuff! What’s your name?”
Levi pointed at his name badge. The boy’s eyes widened. “You’re called Levi too?”
“Yeah.”
“What a coincidence!” Erwin said. “It’s an unusual name nowadays.”
“Yeah – there aren’t many of us around,” Levi said, not adding that his birth name, in this life, had been Xavier. “Why did you choose it?”
“It was his idea,” the children’s mother said, smiling at Erwin. “I’m not sure where it came from.”
“I’m not sure, either,” Erwin said. “It’s not a family name, and not traditional in either of our cultures. We hadn’t really decided on anything, and when he was born it just… I don’t know – I looked at our son, and said, ‘What about Levi?’ and Juanita liked it, so that was that!”
“I’ve always been happy with it,” Levi said. They fell silent, watching the girl, Iara, playing with the lizard.
“We should get going,” Juanita said after a while.
“Yeah – I should probably get back to –” Levi said, gesturing at the bushes with his secateurs.
“See you next time, Levi!” little Levi called, as the family made their way back along the path to the entrance.
Levi raised his hand. “See you, Levi.” He turned away before he added quietly, “See you next time, Erwin.”
“In your experience, how often do people choose to remember their past lives?” Levi asked the facilitator.
“I’m sorry, we are not permitted to discuss the transitions of other souls.”
“But in general? If someone had a good life – a life they enjoyed, I mean – surely that must make them more likely –”
“We don’t collect that kind of data,” the facilitator said, and although the voice remained calm, Levi thought he detected a note of impatience in it. “The choice is yours alone. Please answer the question clearly. Do you wish to retain your memories –”
“He remembered… I think he remembered my name…”
“Are you referring to a soul you met in your latest embodiment?”
“Yes. Erwin Smith. I - knew him – in the first life. He keeps choosing to forget, but I… He called his son by my name.”
“A soul that has chosen to forget has no memories of previous lives. Coincidences of this kind must happen relatively frequently. You should not base your decision on random coincidences. Please answer the question clearly. Do you wish to retain your memories in your next incarnation?”
“If he never remembers…”
“Please answer the que –”
“Yes! Yes, I want to remember!”
This time the door was only a shimmering rectangle – the kind of energy field they had used to maintain optimum humidity in the rainforest biome. There was nothing to push against - nothing to slam.
Lives followed lives, the memories gradually blurring into one another. One day, in the aftermath of a victory, Levi was sitting at a splintered wooden table outside a café that had managed to stay open despite the gaping hole in its upper storey, and when he looked up at the girl carrying the tea tray he recognized –
“Mikasa?”
“Captain Levi? Hm. I suppose I should have guessed when they said some kind of officer was here demanding tea rather than beer.”
“Will you join me?”
Mikasa gave him a considering look. “I’ll get another cup.”
For a time they drank their tea in silence, glancing at each other.
“Funny,” Mikasa said after a while, “how we don’t look like we used to, but mannerisms stay the same. You never could hold a cup like a normal person.”
Levi raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well. Neither of us was ever exactly normal.”
“You have no idea how much I hated you at first, for reminding me of that.”
Levi almost smiled. “Huh. Yeah, I do.”
“I suppose I never tried to hide it.”
“No.”
They contemplated their tea. When they spoke it was almost in unison:
- “Have you found Erwin?”
- “Does Eren remember?”
They both looked up at the bombed-out house across the square as the sun emerged from behind a cloud and a flash of light reflected off a bathroom mirror: half the room still intact, almost untouched, the other half - gone.
Mikasa shook her head. “I’ve found him dozens of times. He hasn’t remembered once.”
“I’ve found Erwin… I don’t know how many times now. He sometimes has a family. He doesn’t remember anything.”
“But you always remember?”
“Yes. I think I remember every life, from the titans onwards, although they all tend to merge together in time. You?”
“Yes.” Mikasa sighed. “I wish I knew why we remember and they don’t. I used to think it might be something to do with being Ackermans, but then I found Armin – he was a she, in that life - and she remembered.”
“You found Armin?”
“Yes.”
“Did he – in the first life – did he ever see all those things he was looking for? The fields of sand – lakes of fire?”
“I think so. It’s not clear, when I think about that life. It’s as if things overlap – sometimes I seem to remember different outcomes for the same event. But, yes, I do remember standing on the edge of a desert with him. And the shores of other oceans.”
Levi frowned. “I know what you mean about the way things blur together. My memories of that life – those lives - are like that, too. I think I remember reaching the ocean. But without Erwin…”
Mikasa looked at him. “I don’t know if Erwin ever reached the ocean himself. There were definitely times when he… wasn’t there.”
“No,” Levi replied, recalling one of the few clear memories: a rooftop in Shiganshina, and a choice he’d made. “I don’t think he got there. But without him, none of us would have seen it.”
“When I found him again, a few lives back now, Armin was a seismologist. He’d travelled all over the world.”
“Huh. He must’ve liked that.”
“Yes. I remember he seemed very happy.”
They drank their tea in silence for a while. At last Levi set down his cup and stretched. “That tea wasn’t bad.”
“Since the liberation we’ve finally been able to get new supplies.”
“You lived here the whole time?”
“Yes. I was part of the resistance.”
Levi nodded his approval. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”
“I’ll give you my address. Keep in touch – if you find Erwin again.”
“I will. And you – if you find Eren.”
“Or – anyway…”
Levi looked at the broken buildings, and the one, still-flourishing tree at the centre of the square. “This seems like a nice town.”
“It is. In peacetime. Not much happens here, but I like it.”
“I was thinking about settling down somewhere, after the war,” Levi said. “Somewhere quiet.”
Mikasa didn’t smile, but her eyes softened. “Well it’s certainly quiet here,” she told him, standing to clear away the crockery. “If you don’t have to leave just yet… would you like more tea, Captain?”
This time, the door was green-painted wood, set into an archway of red brick. In the life he had just left, it would have led Levi into the orchard beside the renovated teashop he had opened with Mikasa after the war. It had been a good life, he reflected, walking forward with renewed determination. Only one thing could have made it better.
“Erwin?”
“My name is Ivar, the King’s sister-son, and commander of his forces. Welcome to our land, Destroyer of Demons! We have dire need of your skill.”
Levi fell into step beside him as they made their way up steep steps to the hall on the hill. “They say it comes up from the marshes?”
“Yes, at nightfall. We have lost many brave men battling to rid the land of this curse. The king waits to welcome you, Devil-slayer. We have all heard the tales that tell of your unmatched strength.” Erwin’s eyes were as bright as Levi remembered them in the underground, when he had first seen Levi’s skill with the gear and understood the scope of its implications and possibilities. Now, Levi saw himself reflected in Erwin’s still-blue eyes as a hero once again. Funny – the thought that although he was now as tall and broad as Erwin himself, nothing important had really changed. He inclined his head gravely, however, as befitted the custom of the time and place. “I thank you, Ivar. My strength, such as it is, is at the service of your king and your people.”
When the facilitator asked the familiar question, Levi hesitated, thinking back over the years he had spent fighting beside ‘Ivar’. Erwin hadn’t remembered, but it had still been a good life. After the monsters had been defeated there had been peace for a time, and when Levi had asked, “What will you do now?” Ivar – Erwin - had replied, “Travel with you, if you’ll allow it.”
They had been travelling companions for two years, and lovers for a long time after that. Levi thought back to a night with Erwin spent in a hayloft, wrapped up in their travelling cloaks and each other, when he had told Erwin about his other lives and their shared history, and how Erwin never remembered him. Erwin had smiled, and told him he must have dreamed it. “I would remember,” he’d said, gazing at Levi with the sincere, earnest look that never changed in any incarnation. “Whether there are other lives, I do not know – but in any life, I would remember you, Leofric.”
Levi lifted the latch of the wooden door that had once opened into Ivar’s father’s mead hall, and walked forward with renewed hope in his heart.
They could hear the sounds of celebration coming from the direction of those high, impenetrable walls. As the few cracks of light that leaked in around the beams and slats faded with the setting of the sun, they heard horses approaching, and then shouts and commands in the language of their enemies. Levi held himself steady, braced against a beam, as the whole structure shuddered and creaked, and finally began to move.
The journey seemed unbearably slow. In the darkness, men shifted in the confined space, stifled by the heat and stench of forty bodies, tense with the strain of keeping themselves and their weapons silent. Someone close to Levi suppressed a cough with apparent difficulty. Levi held himself still, and tried not to think about what was coming. It was always hardest when the enemy was human and had earned your respect in battle – years of battle, in this life. Levi breathed out silently. He would not kill civilians. That was the only rule he could keep to, in this place.
They stopped moving. Someone whispered, very low, “Are we inside?”
“Not yet.” The commander’s voice, soft but clear. “We’re at the gate.”
There were more shouts, and then a period of quiet, and then the heavy thud of stone on stone, and cracking, tearing sounds. Levi knew that the enemy soldiers were destroying parts of their own walls. It was hardly a spoiler – he’d read or heard this story a dozen times in other lives – but it was still a surprise when he realized that this insane plan was actually going to work. He thought of Erwin, and smiled to himself in the darkness.
It seemed an age before they moved again. The air stank of piss now, as well as sweat, and despite his nagging thirst Levi was reluctant to drink from the water skin at his side because his bladder was already painfully full. He controlled himself with an effort of will, and closed his eyes, waiting.
At last they were still, and there was more waiting until the sounds of celebration grew distant, and finally ceased.
“Ready lads?” the commander asked, his voice still low, assuming there would be guards below.
Two soldiers lifted the trapdoor, and lowered the ropes. Levi waited his turn to descend. There were three muffled thumps as the first soldiers slid down, and a brief clash of metal on metal, followed by a choked cry. By the time Levi reached the ground, there was no opposition left. Four bodies lay on the hard earth. Levi looked up at the huge horse’s head silhouetted against the starry sky. Ahead of him, the commander hissed, “Leonteus!”
Levi nodded, gripped his sword firmly, and followed the others away from the Temple of Athena and down into the town.
Despite the drunken, sleepy state of many of the enemies, the fighting was fierce. By the time Levi followed the commander into the royal palace itself, he’d lost count of how many men he had slain. The enemy king had once had dozens of sons, Levi knew, although many had been killed during the war, but now the palace seemed almost abandoned. A servant boy ran from them in terror, and they let him go.
“Has the king fled?” Odysseus wondered, frowning. “A secret passage – a hidden door leading out beyond the walls…”
Levi found himself remembering other royal families - other walls. The memories had come slowly in this life, and he’d been a soldier and a leader of troops before he’d fully remembered himself and the many lives stretched out behind him. He had no more taste for killing now than he’d ever had, but was cursed with his usual strength. Now that the city had fallen, he was tempted to throw down his sword – but if he did that Odysseus or one of the others would probably kill him, and he couldn’t help clinging to the hope that Erwin – an Erwin who remembered – might also have been born into this life. During the war he had scanned the face of every soldier on his own side and every enemy he fought, searching in vain for any soul he recognized, but with one name always in his heart.
Odysseus led the way along a corridor he hoped would lead them to the royal apartments. Levi lost sight of him for an instant as he turned a corner, and at that moment they were attacked. There was just time for Levi to register the sound of clashing swords ahead of him, when someone ran at him from behind along the previously empty corridor. Taken by surprise, Levi spun and struck in one fluid, automatic movement and his assailant – a young Trojan prince to judge from the gold circlet in his dark hair – collapsed gasping on Levi’s sword, his own weapon clattering to the stone floor. Levi pulled his sword free and the prince clutched at his stomach, blood pulsing through his splayed fingers. It was a fatal wound, and a slow way to die. Levi drew back his sword again to end his enemy’s suffering, and the prince looked up at him.
The sound that ripped out of Levi brought Odysseus running to his side. The commander sheathed his bloody sword and looked down at his subordinate, who was cradling the body of a wounded Trojan in his arms.
“Leonteus? What is it? Are you wounded too?”
Levi shook his head, blinking away tears.
“Then kill him. We have to find the royal family.”
“I know him.”
“He’s an Achaean?”
“No… an Eldian. I can’t leave him. Go ahead. I’ll…”
“Where in Hades is Eldia?”
Levi said nothing, his eyes fixed on Erwin’s.
Erwin raised his hand to touch Levi’s face. “There was… a first life,” he managed. “There were – There were walls - even higher...”
Levi’s eyes widened. “You remember?”
Erwin gasped for breath. “Yes… Yes, I… Levi…”
Odysseus turned away. “Follow after me when he dies.” He didn’t wait for a reply.
Levi reached for Erwin’s hand and gripped it firmly. “I won’t leave you. If it’s too much, I can finish it.”
Erwin attempted a smile. “No – it’s… I can… Levi, you told me… but… I called you Leofric. I didn’t understand….”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“If there are more lives - after this…”
“Erwin! Erwin – forgive me!”
The tension of pain left Erwin’s face suddenly, but the determination in the expression that replaced it, as he struggled for a final breath, broke Levi’s heart. “Levi – I swear – I’ll find –”
Erwin’s eyes stayed open, but he was gone.
Much later, as the broken city burned, Odysseus returned and found them undisturbed. The dead Trojan prince lay on his back with one clenched hand arranged on his chest in a curious salute. Leonteus knelt at the Trojan’s side, his head bowed as though in prayer or contemplation, the point of his own sword sheathed in his heart.
Levi was already on his feet when the facilitator appeared.
“I want to remember!”
The facilitator nodded calmly, and gestured towards the impressive gateway of white stone that had appeared in the glowing wall. It had taken the Trojans hours to force Odysseus’s damned wooden horse through that gate, but Levi passed it at a joyful run.
It had never happened like this before. There had been dreams, of course, on and off since just after his fourteenth birthday – nightmares of gigantic forms moving across a barren landscape – a room – or more than one – where he was alone except for the corpse lying on the bed… But he’d never remembered like this – completely and all at once. He staggered back from the blooded man at his feet, looking down at his own reddened knuckles.
“Shit.”
“I’m s - sorry,” his victim gasped. “I won’t… If you let me go, I’ll never…”
“Boss?”
Levi turned to stare at the thin-faced, rangy kid behind him, who until a second ago had been his right-hand man.
“You okay, Boss?” the kid asked.
Levi shook his head. “Don’t call me that.” He looked down at the man on the ground, sickened by the effects of his own violence. “Get out of here.”
The man – although now Levi saw him through the filter of a hundred other lives he supposed boy would be a better word – gazed up at him, stupefied. “What?”
“Get out of here. Go.” It was hard for Levi not to cringe at the cliché, but he said it anyway. “Go… before I change my mind.”
“Boss – whatcha doin’?”
Levi dragged his victim to his feet, and gave him a little shove in the direction of the main street. With a last, uncomprehending glance, the boy stumbled away down the alley.
“What the hell was that? After we went through all that shit to get ’im ’ere?”
Levi turned to his former subordinate. “Yeah – sorry about that.” He took a key out of his pocket, and handed it to the kid. “I’m done. You can have everything in the lockup. If you take my advice you’ll quit, too – but I guess it’s not realistic to expect you to take my advice.”
“Quit? What the fuck you talkin’ about? You can’t –”
Levi looked at him, feeling nothing but pity. “You’ll be okay. Sell everything, and go.”
“Go where?”
“Just – away. There are other lives… It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“But – But this is our turf!”
Levi couldn’t help the small, scoffing sound that escaped him as he remembered the years of countless battles over different patches of ground and varied ideologies – some vast and momentous, spanning continents and real questions of good and evil, others as trivial as this – a childish scrap over a few dirty streets in a low-rent quarter of a run-down city. He thought of Farlan and Isabel, and shook his head. “I know. I know it seems important. But… You take it on, if you want. But I’d get out, if I were you. I have to go.”
“Why? What’s up? You hit your head, Boss? Where you gonna go?”
“There’s someone I have to find.”
“Who?”
Levi smiled, unable to resist saying it aloud. “A man called Erwin Smith.” His smile faded, as he thought about the billions of people on the planet. “Or – maybe not, here. Could be called anything... But I’ll know him when I find him.”
“The fuck you talking about?”
Levi looked at him. “Sorry. I have to go. Good luck.”
“Boss? Boss!”
Levi left the boy standing in the alley. The kid wasn’t stupid – he had the key to the lockup and he’d get out okay. Levi remembered Eren carrying the key to the basement that had unlocked a new world and new enemies. Had Erwin ever seen that world? Through his hazy memories of the first life, one moment remained clear in Levi’s mind – an impulsive, instinctive moment of sudden certainty – a choice he had made.
Have you ever forgiven me, Erwin?
But first, in a world of ten billion people, he had to find the only one who really mattered to him now.
He’d tried everything - on-line groups concerned with past lives, their members dismissed as fantasists and conspiracy theorists by most of the world – appeals for help finding ‘someone who went by the name of Erwin Smith, who might remember his former associate Levi Ackerman’ – endless searches of any interests he guessed Erwin might hold on to: history, politics, exploration… Sometimes, when his eyes blurred after days spent staring at screens, Levi would walk the streets of whichever city he happened to live in at that point, scanning the faces of passersby, just in case.
The money he’d made from his former criminal lifestyle ran out after six years, in spite of his careful frugality. He worked a variety of jobs to fund his continued searching, and the years passed until he found himself, at thirty-four, mopping floors and doing general maintenance in an under-funded but well-run high school in a small northern town.
At six o’clock on the first morning of a new school year, Levi was busy repairing a dripping tap in the boys’ toilets. It was only a case of replacing a washer, and by six-twenty he was finished and giving the sink a final polish. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror and stilled for a moment, caught, as he often was these days, by how similar he looked in this life to the way he had done in the first one. Even his height hadn’t changed much, he thought, only a little ruefully. Some of the ruder brats sometimes pointed that out, although they always retreated under the force of his glare. They weren’t a bad bunch of kids on the whole. Levi put the spanner back in his toolbox and closed the door behind him, glad to discover that the WD40 he’d used earlier in the week had successfully got rid of the old, irritating squeak.
Out in the main corridor everything was quiet. Only the Head was already in school, busy in her office preparing for the onslaught – Levi had noticed her car in its designated parking space. The school was as clean and functional as Levi could make it, given the budget constraints. He’d repainted this corridor himself over the summer, the floors were shining, and he’d managed to replace the area of split linoleum in the art rooms. There wasn’t much that could be done about the ancient boilers beyond doing his best to keep them going for another year or two, and nothing would get some of the worst tea and coffee stains out of the carpet in the staffroom, but otherwise he felt he’d done a satisfactory job.
Levi walked along the empty corridor enjoying the peace. A few of the teachers might be in by seven or so, but for now –
A door banged behind him, and he turned, expecting to see the Head.
“Hi there. I’ve just started here on supply – I was wondering if you could point me to the History –”
Levi dropped his toolbox.
“I’m sorry – did I startle you? I –“
Erwin took a step closer, peering to see the janitor who was silhouetted against bright sunlight coming from the glass doors at the other end of the corridor. But there was something achingly familiar about that silhouette…
“Levi…?” he asked, although he was already certain.
“Erwin.”
It seemed that, in this life, Levi was doomed to cliché, but he didn’t care. He ran towards Erwin, who was already running. Levi threw himself into Erwin’s arms, both of them experiencing a little shock of surprise at the way their bodies related to each other this time – Levi just a little taller than he had been in the first life, Erwin a fraction shorter. They held each other, Levi’s head resting on Erwin’s shoulder, remembering how it had been as Ivar and Leofric, but never, until now, as Levi and Erwin, with their memories mutually intact. Erwin’s hand cupped the back of Levi’s head, holding him close. It was some time before Levi pulled back a little, and met Erwin’s steady gaze.
“Erwin… Are you still Erwin, here?”
“Yes, since the memories came back, and I was old enough to insist. Are you Levi?”
Levi nodded. “I’m Levi.”
“You had to call me Ivar, all those years!”
Levi smiled. “I called you Erwin sometimes. When you were sleeping.”
“You told me, but I didn’t believe it. It seemed…”
“I know.”
“I wonder why I didn’t remember before?”
“You never do. Not until last time – in Troy.”
“Never? How many lives have we met in?”
Levi shook his head. “I lost count. There were a lot where we only met in passing. A lot where you were with someone else. You were a father, a few times. You never remembered.”
“And you always did?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Why wouldn’t I remember?”
Levi looked up at him. “I don’t know. But you remember now?”
“Yes… So many lives. I remember families – children. But those lives seem far away – like dreams.”
“They do fade, in time,” Levi said. “I don’t remember much from most of my past lives. Except for the times when I met you. And some memories from the first life – or lives. I don’t know which. I met Mikasa once and she –”
“Mikasa? From the first life – the one with the titans?”
“Yeah. She thought there were different versions of that first life. The memories overlap.”
“Yes. Yes – that’s how it seems to me, too. Sometimes… I usually died in that town, didn’t I? Shiganshina. Did we ever find out what was in that – that place? The basement?”
Levi looked away. “We did. It was – it was always more trouble. You were right – about the memories – the titans.”
“I was right. So – my father was right?”
“Yeah. Although it didn’t – It was a lot more complicated than we thought. Erwin – I’m sorry, I –”
“What is it, Levi?”
“I don’t remember exactly what happened, but I don’t think… I’m not sure that I ever finished the thing you asked me to do – the thing I promised you I would do…”
Erwin smiled down at him. “I hardly remember that life. You promised me something? Or perhaps I – Were you supposed to kill someone?”
Levi stepped away from him, looking down at the floor miserably. “I think I was. I’m sure of one thing – I tried. I tried so hard. But I don’t think I… I’m not sure I ever managed…”
Erwin laughed. Levi stared at him, wide eyed. “Erwin…”
“It doesn’t matter!” Erwin said. “Don’t you see, Levi? None of it matters any more. Whatever we were supposed to do – whether we succeeded or failed – that life is gone. Surely we’re free of it now?”
“Are we? Then why do we remember?”
“I don’t know. But all that matters is that we’re here now. Together. I’m not with anyone else.” A sudden look of alarm clouded Erwin’s radiant expression. “You’re not –?”
“No! No, I’ve only been looking for you. I’ve always been looking for you.”
“Then, now that we’ve found each other, surely we’re free?”
“Free…” Levi echoed, stepping forward into Erwin’s embrace, looking up to seek the safe harbour of Erwin’s blue eyes.
Levi sighed quietly when the facilitator appeared. It had been a wonderful life spent with Erwin - a simple, quiet, almost perfect life. But the memories had always been there, plaguing Erwin’s dreams as much as Levi’s – feelings of guilt, worries about dead or abandoned comrades, and the nagging doubt about tasks left unfinished.
“He was right,” Levi said to himself. “We hoped we’d finally be free, but, after all, it was never really over.”
“I’m sorry?” the facilitator said. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch –”
“It doesn’t matter,” Levi said, remembering a promise he had made. He got to his feet, looking at the door that had appeared in the foggy haze of the waiting room – the green-painted, unassuming entrance to the small, neat terraced house he had shared with Erwin for so many years.
“Please answer the question clearly,” the facilitator said. “Do you wish to retain your memories in your next incarnation?”
Levi remembered the night Erwin had died, and the words of their final conversation. In his mind the memory of their bedroom merged with another - the wooden walls and simple furnishings of a room in Shiganshina – a body on the bed, and the consequences of a promise he’d made.
‘Levi – I’ve been thinking…” Erwin’s voice had been husky – a side effect of the medication…
“Sure that’s a good idea?”
Erwin had managed a cracked laugh. “Ha! Probably not. But, Levi – I’d like you to make me another promise.”
“Yes. Anything.”
“I’ve been wondering about these lives – the way you always remembered, and I never did until that time in Troy. Perhaps… if there’s an element of choice about it – after we die –”
“Erwin – don’t –”
“We’ve never been free of those other lives, have we? Not completely. So promise me, if we get a choice, you’ll choose to forget.”
“But I don’t want to forget you!”
“Please, Levi. We’ll meet again. I’m sure it will happen. And then we’ll really be free.”
Erwin had reached for Levi’s hand with the last of his strength, and Levi’s protests had died on his lips as he’d seen the diming of Erwin’s eyes. “I promise! I promise, Erwin.”
Erwin had summoned a final smile. “Thank you, Levi.”
“Please answer the question,” the facilitator said.
“I - I want to forget,” Levi said.
“Are you certain?” the facilitator asked. “It’s my duty to remind you that if you choose to forget, you will not regain any memories of your previous lives until you return to this place.”
Levi took a breath and squared his shoulders. He’d made a promise, and this time it was one he would be able to keep. “I’m sure. I want to forget.” Without hesitation, he walked through the door.
In the silence of the empty waiting room, the facilitator smiled.
The sky was the vibrant, unstained blue of midsummer, and the calm water only a shade darker. Levi’s job was easy on a day like this, when the waves were tiny frills along the edge of the beach and the flags marking off the safe bathing area drooped in the still air. He scanned the beach none-the-less, always alert for danger, serious about his work.
A blond, bearded man, the sunlight glinting on his glasses, stumbled over something in the sand and went flying, his ice cream landing in a splattered mess beside him. Three children splashing in the sea nearby turned to look at him – a small yellow haired boy taking a step forward, asking, “Is he okay?” - a dark-haired girl in a red swimsuit staring at him impassively, and a taller, long-faced boy clearly trying not to laugh. Their companion, another boy, was looking out to sea and took no notice. The fallen man got to his feet, nothing apparently bruised but his pride, and walked off down the beach with as much dignity as he could muster.
Levi checked the sea, eyes scanning the harbour. Everything was calm.
“Hello. It’s safe to swim between the flags, I take it?”
Squinting in the bright sunlight, Levi turned to look at this new idiot who, it seemed, was incapable of reading a notice board. “Yeah.” He gestured at the board with his thumb. “Like it says on the sign.” Then he looked again, and added, “So – yeah. Anywhere between the flags is… fine. I’ll - be watching.”
Shit, that sounded wrong. But no one had a right to be that good looking. And were his eyes really that colour, or were they just reflecting the sea and sky, because seriously –
“That’s… good to know.” The idiot’s voice was as appealing as the rest of him. Damn.
“Yeah – so, you know, it’s safe to swim,” said Levi, appalled at himself and the way he couldn’t stop staring.
“You’ll rescue me if I get into trouble?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm. It might be worth it,” the idiot said. Levi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help grinning at the same time. “Maybe you should try it and find out?”
“And am I allowed to know the name of my potential rescuer, just in case I need to call for help or anything?”
“Levi,” Levi said. “Levi Ackerman.”
“I’m Erwin Smith,” the idiot said, holding out a huge, tanned hand. Levi shook it. Erwin turned and jogged towards the sea. Levi watched him go, and then panicked realising that he’d taken his eyes off the water. Frantically he surveyed the beach, making a mental count of the children in the water. One of the boys was splashing the girl. All of them were laughing.
Levi exhaled, and allowed his gaze to wander back to Erwin, who was swimming parallel to the beach with strong, confident strokes. The sea was calm. Everyone was safe. Everything was exactly as it was meant to be.