Chapter Text
Eren hears footsteps in the sand behind him. It’s been a while since he’s let anyone find him. It isn’t hard to stay away from others with all the time and space in the unknown lands of the Paths to do it.
Even as they approach, he keeps his eyes on the brilliance of the Paths before him. Though its brightness is stark and comforting against the darkness of the cosmos behind it, it lends no warmth the way a sun would. It has grown brighter and more dazzling since the first time he saw them. With the end of the Coordinate, the Paths only branched farther and wilder, as if coming into a full bloom and reaching out to embrace those that arrived here, some much too soon.
He isn’t ready to face them, not the poor souls who were the collateral causalities of the war waged between Heaven and Earth, and especially not his former comrades. Despite the sense of peace and rest that permeates through the Paths, Eren knows it does not include him. Because so many are here because of him. He knows that.
She’s nearly to him now, and is no exception to this. This would be his first time seeing her since he first apologized for his part in her death.
“Hey, Sasha” Eren mutters. He doesn’t move from his sitting position, arms folded over his knees, looking up at the brightness of the Paths.
His lips twitch when he imagines the smell of potatoes and fresh bread at that used to draft ahead of her. When she was still alive. His smile fades slightly.
“Hi Eren,” Sasha says as she jovially drops down next to him.
He waits for her to speak first.
“I’m glad you let me check in on you this time! We haven’t seen you in a while,” Sasha gestures towards the Paths.
Eren counts three years, but here, it might have easily been three decades or three minutes both at the same time.
Sasha continues, “Hange in particular has been asking for you. They’ve been collecting sand samples and talking about measuring the energy of the light particles, if that means anything to you.”
Eren shakes his head. He could easily see Hange bouncing around with more energy than even the photons they were trying to study possessed. He wonders if Hange has named any of them, and if Moblit is there humoring Hange by referring to them as Sawney Jr. and Bean Jr.
“I needed—need time to be alone,” Eren explains, “It’s the first time in years that I’ve been able to think so clearly.”
When the Founding Titan’s power disappeared, so had the cloud that simultaneously sharpened and muddled his head for years. Fragments of time realigned themselves in a more linear, intuitive manner and shards of memories pieced together so that their edges smoothed over one into the next. Eren had been finally able to think freely in what felt like forever.
“You know,” Sasha ventures when he remains quiet, “You still can come say hi. If you don’t want to talk, we can always just enjoy a meal together. It’s weird to have breakfast or lunch or dinner when there’s no time of day, but it’s still pretty tasty. Well, not as good as Niccolo’s dishes, obviously, but you can have as much of it as you want!”
At the mention of Niccolo’s name, Eren looks down at his folded arms and says after a pause, “I’m sorry, Sasha.”
“Yeah, I am too,” she loses her bubbly enthusiastic tone, but still sounds more cheerful than Eren feels he deserves to hear, “But we’ve talked about this before. I knew what I was getting into when I joined the Scouts. I got to be best friends with Connie and Jean, and I was lucky enough to meet Niccolo. They were the best, and he was someone really special.”
“If it wasn’t for me, you might still be with him,” Eren says gruffly.
“If it wasn’t for you and the way you dragged his boat ashore, I wouldn’t have had the chance to charm him with my lovely table manners,” Sasha replies good-naturedly, refusing to give into his pity party.
Eren manages a chuckle at that, “I guess eating with gusto is the best compliment you could give to a chef. He was really moved by it, and he was good at cooking.”
“Yeah,” Sasha sighs dreamily, thinking about her last lover, “He was good at other things too, you know.”
For a moment he is confused, and is about to ask like what when he notices her sly smile and blush. Eren makes a face, “I didn’t know. I don’t need the details, Sasha.”
She smiles sheepishly at him before turning serious, “I’m grateful for the four years I had with him, and I’m glad I got to tell him I love him. That’s enough for me.”
Four years. Eren’s heart clenches, and the smell of pine and crisp air fills his nose. He had spent the last four years of another life with Mikasa. Should he feel like that was enough? Even as he thinks it, he knows he wanted and still wants more.
“How is he now?” Eren asks.
“Good. He’s still with my family in Dauper, helping them breed horses and farm. It’s nice to see that they like him almost as much as I did. It’s wonderful to be able to check in every once in a while,” Sasha says while glancing curiously at the markings in the sand next to Eren.
His green eyes glare back, challenging. He doesn’t feel like he owes Sasha an explanation, but bites out, “It’s a big week for Mikasa, between traveling back to Shinganshina to visit me, and reuniting with Armin for the first time in three years. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
Sasha’s expression softens, “How is Mikasa?”
“She’s doing great,” he mutters, wondering why she’s asking since he knows that Sasha watches over her sometimes too.
Then the usual rush of warmth and pride goes through him as he thinks of Mikasa, and Eren can’t stop himself from telling Sasha all the things she probably already knows. He tells her about all the amazing work Mikasa did at the orphanage in the past year, about the small but comfortable house that she built and decorated in a style that’s so Mikasa, about the beautiful and bountiful garden she grew, just like the one she had growing up…
She is so goddamn beautiful, and he watches over her as she holds her head high, shoulders strong. He is so proud of her, even while he wonders if he has the right to, and of the way she lives with purpose and kindness and tenderness that he knows has always been there.
There are days when grief and sadness are etched so clearly on her face, and Eren wants nothing more than to reach to her and smooth them away. He’s intimately familiar with them because they’re mirrored on his face as well. But then Mikasa admits out loud, as if she knows he can hear her, that she misses him and isn’t afraid to show it, and gives a watery smile before living. It’s as if she is determined to live enough for the both of them.
It is quiet again for a moment after his outpour of adoration before Sasha asks gently, “Did you ever get to tell her how you felt?”
Eren tilts his head back to answer at the sky, “No. I didn’t tell her how I feel.” Because his feelings for her will always be present.
He feels surge of annoyance at the pitying and unsurprised look on his friend’s face, which prompts him hastily add, “But I told Armin.”
It sounds childish, even to his own ears.
“Oh,” Sasha sounds taken aback, “Do you think Armin will tell her?”
Eren shrugs, and he relaxes as he thinks about the two of them, “Well I asked him not to, but maybe. They always did have that type of friendship.”
Armin is a vault for secrets except for when it comes to Mikasa. Eren fondly remembers how Armin used to make Mikasa laugh when they were younger in Shingansina by telling her all of Eren’s embarrassing stories from before he met her, much to his chagrin back then. As they grew older and joined the military, those secrets became more consequential in nature, but Eren was never surprised to see Armin gabbing with Mikasa, the former with mischievous side that not many people saw, and the latter with a humorous side that she let even fewer appreciate.
He hopes that his blonde best friend wouldn’t tell her verbatim what he admitted. Knowing Armin though, if he did say anything Mikasa, he would make Eren’s confession sound a thousand times better than the way it came out. Armin always had a way with words, while Eren was clumsy with them time and time again. Especially when it came to Mikasa, who set his heart off racing every time he had set his eyes on her.
Eren imagines that if Armin told her, Mikasa’s eyes and nose would crinkle with shyness and happiness and she would blush prettily, ducking her head lower so her scarf would hide her red cheeks.
Her image causes something in his chest to expand, and he speaks with a passion and conviction that startles Sasha when he begins, “I didn’t need to tell her with words. Mikasa knows.”
In the last four years of his other life with Mikasa, Eren had made sure that she knew he loved her with every touch, every kiss, every hug that they shared. Those memories were precious to him, each minute priceless. When you only had four years, even the most routine tasks became special. He reveled in every moment, soaking up every ounce of love that Mikasa had to give, and reciprocating with a passion that could’ve burned down the forest they lived in ten times over. And right before she set him free, Eren saw in her eyes that she remembered those years.
He feels a comfort knowing that she remembered their brief refuge together. Eren is ironically grateful for her Ackerman memory resilience even though it was what forced him to be crueler to her than the rest of their friends in order to drive her away. But in the end, she knew what had been a lie and what had been the truth.
Maybe Sasha senses his last twinge of dissatisfaction because she asks, “But do you wish you had the chance to tell her?”
It doesn’t even take a heartbeat for him to answer with a sigh, “Yeah. I do.”
She doesn’t need to say anything else about it. They both left their loves on the plane of the living so Eren knows she gets it too. They are both silent for a time after that.
After a few unsuccessful attempts to restart their conversation, Sasha stands back up to take her leave, recognizing that Eren is lost in his thoughts.
“Well, you know where to find us—me, Hange, our old 104th friends,” Sasha grins, “We can make those overdue sandwiches together!”
Eren smiles up at her, meaning it this time, “That sounds great, Sasha. I will. Soon… just not yet.”
She gives a small wave and walks back towards the Paths’ light until she was indistinguishable in the brightness.
Eren glances down at the little bird-shaped mound of sand next to him. While the thirteen-year curse of Ymir had been lifted and the power of the Titans gone, some things remain infinite and everlasting—including the sands of organic matter, the Paths of spirits, and his promise to Mikasa. He made a promise to her that he always intends to keep, and knows that Mikasa can still feel the whispers of his promise to her in the wind of his wings.
Mikasa knows that he loves her, but Eren suddenly has the desire to shout the words into the empty sky. The words are burning in his chest, brighter than all the Paths put together. But the thought of them echoing into the ether without reaching their intended’s ears upsets him. So, instead, Eren takes a deep breath. Mikasa would’ve been amused and impressed by his improvement in self-control, he thinks.
The first time he says those words, it will be to her and for her only. If she wants to hear them that is, he reminds himself. He does want her to find happiness in her life and a family— he does he does he does— because that’s always been important to her. But if Mikasa does want to hear those words, he’ll shout them to her and show her in the proper way and with the proper time that they had been denied in this past life.
“I’ll get the chance to one day,” Eren tells himself and the bird in the sand.
Even here, he is always moving forward, closer to the day he will get to.
Mikasa, I’ll get to tell you one day. I love you.