Chapter Text
The old woman scowled. “Many people in this town have heard of Levi Ackerman, and most regret it.” She grimaced at her own words, as if distasteful, and dusted off the apron covering her dress. “You would do well to avoid that man. He’s nothing a young lady like yourself should get involved with.”
Mikasa ignored her. “Where could I find him?”
The woman looked at her disapprovingly, eyes moving up and down Mikasa as she took in her unfeminine style of clothes and the holster clipped to her belt. “Why do you ask?”
“I want to hire him—I need him to find and capture a certain man.”
She crossed her arms. “He’s a glorified bounty hunter.” The wrinkles on her face grew more marked as her scowl deepened. “Filth from the underbelly of Mitras.”
“I know that,” Mikasa said dryly. “Do you know where I could find him?”
“I don’t know where you could find that man,” the woman said sharply. “Do yourself a favour and go directly to the Military Police.”
The old woman didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she retreated back into her rickety wooden house. Mikasa stood motionless, staring at the closed door for a few, brief seconds before turning away brusquely. The glances of the few passers-by making their way through the dusty, unpaved road followed her as she continued to make her way towards the heart of the garrison town. Badly hushed, indiscreet mutters grew as she walked past the locals.
“She is looking for Levi Ackerman, you say?”
A flash of anger ran through her. She wouldn’t have bothered to travel to this garrison town if she could do so much as resort to the Military Police. It had taken her a week to get to this place alone—as was usually the case for other towns at the edge of Wall Maria. It was here where her best chance to achieve what she wanted lied at.
The garrison town was similar to the few other similarly purposed towns she had seen before. Its buildings, mostly made out of a mixture of stone and wood, were well-kept and clean. The roads, though unpaved, were in a good state; showcasing the relative wealth of the area. Beyond the town’s edges, plains of yellowing grass reached the horizon; interrupted only by the few dust clouds that blew from the roads and bare patches of dirt dotting the area.
It was vastly different from her childhood home. There were no forests in sight and the few, near-bare trees she could see had different types of leaves. It was different from Shiganshina, too; the town where she had spent her adolescence with the Yeagers. The buildings were sparser and of a different make. Its nearby river deeper and visibly wilder than the mellow waterway Shiganshina used for transport.
Mikasa reached into one of the pockets of her old, brown jacket and searched through it until she touched her father’s old pocket watch. The hard surface of the cast silver object—one of the few keepsakes to have survived the attack that had killed her parents years ago—calming her only slightly.
How much time had it been since her parents’ deaths already? She had been eighteen when she had left Shiganshina alongside Eren. Nineteen when she finally reclaimed her parents’ farmlands—a full ten or eleven years after their deaths.
A familiar sense of fury grew in her chest. If Eren and his father hadn’t arrived when they had, back then—. If the three men that had been hired for the hit hadn’t been taken by as much surprise as they had—.
Mikasa pulled up the red scarf tied around her neck. Eyes darting, she took in her surroundings.
The street was more crowded now, likely on account of her proximity to the market square and the few saloon bars lining the sides of the streets. There was no sign of the bounty hunter she wanted to find; nor would there be, if the growing crowds were any indication. No, she would need directions if she wanted to do so.
Given the old woman’s reaction, asking locals directly was likely off the table. Perhaps, however, she would manage to get a better response if she were to ask at a tavern or a saloon. The man was a known bounty hunter, after all.
Mind made up, Mikasa marched towards one of the saloons closest to her; a tall wooden building which stood at the corner of an intersection standing, right next to a rudimentary stable. She cut through the crowd gathering at its exterior as she made her way to the cooler inside. Ignoring the smell of tobacco and stale beer permeating the air inside, she walked up to one of the empty spots at the bar. She raised her hand in the direction of the single bartender, only distantly aware of the group of soldiers standing in a circle near her as she tried to get his attention.
It didn’t take long for the middle-aged man to approach her, and Mikasa readied herself to ask the same question that had made the old woman grimace so fiercely.
“Have you heard of Levi Ackerman? Where could I find him?”
The bartender’s expression soured immediately. “Yes.” He shook his head and gestured towards the bar’s single entrance. “If that’s the only thing you’re going to ask, kindly get out. This place is for customers.”
Mikasa’s calm exterior remained unchanged. “I’m sorry, I just need some information.” She leant forwards and rested her elbows on the polished wood of the countertop. “I need to hire him. I know he usually resides in this town, but I don’t know where to find him.”
The bartender shook his head, face contorting slightly in anger. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Go ask somewhere else.”
A woman garbed in a standard military uniform stepped towards the countertop before she could reply. “There’s no need to react like that, Dan. She was just asking.”
Smiling brightly, as if unaware of the obvious hostility of the bartender, the soldier pushed her thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose and turned to face Mikasa. Her dark hair, kept in a ponytail, fluttered with the movement.
“I know that Commander Erwin said he’d be meeting with Levi at the local headquarters this morning. It could take a while, knowing them, but you’ll likely be able to find him there.” Pursing her lips, the soldier paused briefly to think. “If not, you’ll likely be able to find him in one of the tearooms by the market square come the afternoon.”
Mikasa offered a slight, awkward smile. Her eyes flicked to the twin wings emblazoned on the woman’s military uniform—the symbol of the division Eren and Armin aimed to join. “Thank you.”
The soldier beamed and fixed her eyes on Mikasa’s own, keen awareness shining through. “It’s no problem!” she exclaimed. “Levi has a bit of a bad reputation here, as you’ve likely seen. You said you wanted to hire him?”
One of the soldiers standing behind the woman, a young man with shaved, brown hair, grimaced. Besides him, a slightly older man with smooth, light hair looked slightly worriedly at the bartender.
“Hange—,” he began to say.
The woman glanced back, smile still bright. “I know, I know.” She took a step away from the countertop and back towards the other soldiers. “Levi’s better than people say. He doesn’t just accept any job, but I’m sure he’ll at least listen to you.”
Mikasa nodded curtly before turning to leave.
The buildings which composed the headquarters of the military and local law enforcement were a sight to see, standing as they did within the paved square at the heart of the garrison town. Tall and fortified, they were built in a style more reminiscent of cities close to Mitras; their ornate exterior markedly different from the buildings which typically populated border towns.
It hadn’t taken long for Mikasa to find their exact location, nor for her to confirm the presence of the bounty hunter she had been searching for inside them. The string of soldiers entering and leaving the place had served as confirmation enough of the buildings’ purpose, as had the murmurs and gossip of the locals strolling through the square. Commander Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman had met that morning. Whatever had prompted the meeting had to be important, because it still hadn’t finished by the time she reached the building.
It was three in the afternoon by the time the bounty hunter exited the headquarters. A tall, blond man in military uniform walked besides him—a commander, judging by the emerald bolo tie around his neck.
Mikasa only began her approach when the two men parted ways. Walking briskly, she cut her way through the crowd and narrowed the distance between her and the bounty hunter. Managing to reach him by one of the streets leading out of the square.
She didn’t hesitate. “Levi Ackerman?”
The man turned and regarded her with a cold, hard gaze. “What is it?”
He was shorter than her—a fact that the tales surrounding the infamous man hadn’t so much as suggested. His eyes, hard and intimidating, were beset by dark circles. A single-loop handgun holster was attached to his belt, the polished wooden handle of the revolver within just barely visible from under his open duster jacket. At his neck, a pristine, white cravat fell over his pressed grey shirt. Offering a sharp contrast with the polished leather boots reaching past his calves.
Mikasa straightened her back. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“And?” he asked tersely. “What do you want, brat?”
Mikasa balled a fist. Her breath shook. “Mikasa. My name’s Mikasa, not brat.” She breathed in, forcing herself to not react further. “I want to hire someone to kill a certain man.”
The bounty hunter—Levi—observed her for a few seconds, brow lowering with faint disapproval. “Well, Mikasa,” he said dismissively. “I don’t do hits—haven’t for a long time. Look for someone else.”
“You’re a bounty hunter. The man I want has a bounty on him,” she said. “I am ready to pay—both for his death or capture.”
He regarded her silently, expression unchanged. Eyes narrowing beneath his dark fringe. “Very well. I will hear you out.” He turned around and gestured at the street he had been walking to before she had approached him. “Follow me.”
Before she knew it, he had started to walk again. Mikasa followed after him, matching his pace as he cut through what remained of the plaza. The lingering gazes of the locals followed them as they advanced, disapproval obvious in their glowers and barely hushed whispers.
Carefully observing him, her eyes remained on the man as they walked. His movements were agile and nimble, boots barely lingering on the ground before he had taken another step forward. His posture—tense and ready to spring—betrayed the discreet weariness with which he silently observed his surroundings. That he was confident was clear in the way he strode, with no arrogance in sight.
The sight made a few of the stories she had heard flash through her head. The man had once been a criminal, though he had turned into a bounty hunter around the time she had been living with the Yeager’s in Shiganshina.
Was he really as quick a shot as people claimed he was? He had to, if half of what was told was true. If he regularly collaborated with the blond Commander she had seen.
It was ten minutes before Levi came to a stop in front of an unremarkable wooden house. Mikasa looked on as he unlocked the door, glancing briefly at the drinking trough on the building’s right side.
“Are you going to enter, or not?” Levi asked. He looked at her feet and glowered with disgust. “Wipe your shoes on the mat.”
Mikasa grit her teeth. Trying to contain her vexation, she nodded and wiped her feet on the mat before stepping through the threshold.
The sheer normality of its inside took her by surprise. The furniture, sparse and unremarkable, was functional in design. Barely any decorations could be seen around the laconic room at all. The set of worn photographs resting atop a chest of drawers and few articles of clothing hanging from a nearby coat stand representing the only dashes of colour in sight.
Had the house not been as clean it was, she’d have thought it abandoned.
Removing only his duster jacket, Levi walked into a room to their left; a kitchen. Mikasa followed him, and, startled, observed as he began to make tea. He glanced at her only once the kettle began to boil.
“Sit,” he said gruffly, nodding towards a set of chairs surrounding a table at a corner.
Minutes later, Levi set out a pair of teacups and a sugar bowl. The fresh and mellow aroma of black tea rose as he poured it methodically into the two cups, sitting down only once they were full.
Mikasa reached for the sugar. The liquid would be too hot for some time, though it’d be the first thing she drank since arriving at the garrison town. “Thank you.”
Levi nodded. Grabbing hold of his cup, he pulled it closer. “So, what do you want exactly?
“I’ve been looking for someone I can hire to kill or capture a certain man.” Slowly, she began to stir the tea. “It doesn’t matter so long as he ends up dead.”
“I know that,” he said bluntly. “I assume politics are involved if you’re coming to me over the Military Police?”
Mikasa tensed. The High Command in Mitras had blocked all of her appeals on the matter. “Yes.” Picking up her teacup, she sipped the hot liquid. A burning sensation fell all the way down her throat. Grimacing, she placed the cup back on the table. “A bit over ten years ago some men came to my family’s farm and killed my parents. I don’t know what they wanted, but had a friend not arrived when he did, they would have killed me too.”
Levi raised an eyebrow. “I take they’re dead?”
“Yes,” Mikasa said, nodding. Absentmindedly, she reached for the red scarf tied around her neck. Its texture, though worn and coarse after years of use, still felt soothing as it first had. “I thought it had been an isolated event, but a few years ago a certain thug-for-hire, Wald Richter, confessed to hearing about the event a patron. When I pressed him for information, he gave me the name of the man who organised the hit.”
Her expression darkened. It had taken a lot of coaxing from her and Eren to get the man to properly speak about the event. The man with the glass eye had eventually spoken in hushed tones, giving only the name and basic description of the man that had ordered her parents’ deaths. She could remember him, if just barely. Tall and well-built, the stranger that had visited her father days before the attack. His bowler hat and large, black overcoat memorable due to the way he had angered her father.
“And?”
“That’s the man I want dead.” Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out the pocket watch. Its silver surface, slightly scratched from years of use, glistened under the afternoon light. “The Military Police turned me down. Said there wasn’t a case to investigate despite his bounty.”
“Ah. So the man you want is involved with the Military Police’s own High Command.”
Mikasa scowled, fingers clenching around the silver piece. “Do you refuse the job?”
“That’s not what I mean.” Gently, Levi picked up his teacup and, holding it from the side, drank from it. “I’m willing to go after him, but if those pigs are involved, you’ll have to pay upfront.”
Mikasa’s eyes narrowed. “Do you intend to keep his bounty, too?”
The corners of Levi’s lips quirked up faintly, eyes fixing on her own. Irrationally, Mikasa found herself noticing their colour over his impassive stare. Grey—his eyes were grey.
“Of course,” he said disparagingly.
“That would be fair—provided I accompany you.” She breathed in. “If you’re keeping all the bounty, I want to see him die.”
Levi placed his teacup back on the table in a single, smooth motion. He didn’t say anything, and glanced at the holster clipped to Mikasa’s belt before looking at her curiously. “Who are you after?”
“I don’t know his full name, just his nickname and description. He has dark hair and a beard,” she explained. “His name is ‘Kenny the Killer’.”
Levi’s eyebrows rose. Grimacing, he rested his elbows on the table. The sight made Mikasa’s heart skip a beat. He knew who she was talking about.
She decided to press on. “Do we have a deal?”
“We do.” He breathed in deeply, a certain hesitation glimmering underneath his otherwise composed expression. “Though not if you get in my way.”
“I can handle myself.” She could, too—she had always been a better shot than Eren, much to his chagrin. “Shall we discuss payment?”
“Yes,” the bounty hunter said sharply. A faint, crooked smile began to grow on his lips. “We will depart come morning. Buy a horse if you don’t have one.”
Calmly, Mikasa leant back into her chair and reached for her teacup. “There’ll be no need for that.”