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Erwin’s not sure what draws him to Hita. The only thing he knows is that he has to go there. It’s the last few days of his stay in Yokohama where he’s been visiting his friend Mike, who’s been living and working there for a number of years. Next week he’s due to travel up to Hokkaido to visit a former work colleague, Nanaba, who lives in Sapporo. If he’s going to go down to Hita, it has to be this weekend.
The trip to Japan was supposed to give Erwin some time and space to think and to get his life back on track after the break up of his relationship. He and Marie had been together for five years, and although it had never been a particularly easy relationship, there was no question that they had cared deeply for each other. In retrospect, Erwin knows that was why they had let the relationship drag on for as long as it did; neither wanted to hurt the other. But in his heart of hearts Erwin knew that as much as he cared about Marie, he would never be able to give her the kind of relationship she wanted. Eventually, when they could no longer paper over the cracks, they separated by mutual consent. As Marie left, she paused by the front door of the flat they’d shared for three years and said “I don’t know what you’re looking for Erwin, but I know it isn’t me.” She was right. The problem was that Erwin didn’t know what he was looking for either, just that he was always searching for something. Despite their amicable separation, it still hurt, especially when Marie took up with one of his oldest friends just weeks later. So when Mike suggested he come over to visit him at the end of the school term, Erwin jumped at the chance.
Erwin has never been to Japan before, everything is new and different, a complete break from the norm. It’s exactly what he needed. Almost. Much as he’s enjoying the trip, he still has this nagging feeling that he’s missing something. That there’s something he needs to do or see, but he’s not quite sure what. It’s like an itch beneath his skin that he can’t quite reach to scratch. He ignores it as best he can, attributing the unsettling feeling to jetlag, or culture shock, or the emotional fallout of the breakup.
He lights on Hita quite by chance, reading an article on a travel website about tourist attractions in the south of the country.
“Hita?” Mike sniffs. “I think I’ve vaguely heard of it. What’s down there?”
Erwin scans the article. “Uhhh…onsens? The area seems to be known for pottery, and there’s a gold mining museum.”
“Since when have you been interested in pottery and gold mining?” Mike laughs, pulling two beers from the fridge and handing one to Erwin.
“The onsens sound nice?” Erwin tries.
“It’s a long way to go for an onsen.” Mike shrugs, opening his beer. “Your call though. I wouldn’t be able to come with you, I’ve got a work social thing on Saturday night that I can’t get out of. Think you’ll be okay getting down there on your own?”
“I’m sure I’ll manage. It looks like there’s a direct train I can get.” Erwin replies with more confidence than he feels. His Japanese is rudimentary at best and, so far, Mike has accompanied him on most of his travels during his trip. “I’ll try not to get lost,” he promises.
Two days later, on a bright Friday morning, Erwin is sitting on the train speeding south from Yokohama. The journey to Fukuoka takes almost five hours and though Erwin’s legs get stiff and his ass goes numb, he can’t help feeling a rising tide of excitement as the train gets closer to Kyushu. At Fukuoka, he changes trains, narrowly making his connection after getting lost in the station, and then it’s another hour or so to Hita. He arrives late in the afternoon, hot and tired, and steps out onto the platform amid a throng of daily commuters. The station fronts onto a small paved square and Erwin’s first impression is of a rather ordinary town. There’s a large sculptural sign of the town’s name in front of the station, with the “i” missing. A girl is standing in its place, laughing and posing while a friend takes pictures. Erwin looks around, trying to get his bearings. He’s booked a hotel close to the station, which according to the map on his phone, should be just a block away from where he’s standing. As he turns around, Erwin’s eye is drawn to a bronze statue mounted on a marble plinth beneath the clock at the corner of the square. Picking up his bag, Erwin makes his way towards the statue. At first he thinks it’s a child, but as he gets closer, he realises it’s a man. His short stature and round face do give him a childlike appearance, but the strange swords he’s brandishing and the look of grim determination on his face make it clear that he is not a man to be crossed. There’s a plaque beneath the statue written in Japanese, which Erwin can not read, and not for the first time he wishes he’d been able to learn more of the language before embarking on his trip. Something about the statue, about the man’s expression, captivates Erwin, and he’s struck by an intense feeling of familiarity, almost like deja vu, but stronger, more real. It’s a deeply unsettling sensation. He stands in front of the statue for a long time trying to sort through the complex mix of emotions as the last commuters straggle out of the station and the square empties around him.
Eventually Erwin tears himself away from the statue and makes his way across the road to his hotel. Hotel Socia is a modern, unassuming hotel where he’s greeted in flawless English by a smiling receptionist. The young man makes small talk as he checks Erwin in, enquiring if he’s on holiday, and recommending this or that restaurant and tourist attraction. It’s only as he hands Erwin his room key that his expression shifts to something less professionally polite. He stares at Erwin just long enough to start to make him uncomfortable, then says “You look like the commander.” “Sorry, who?” Erwin asks, confused. The man smiles and points to a glass display cabinet in the foyer. Intrigued, Erwin walks over to take a look. In the cabinet, behind a group of figurines, is a simple line drawing of a man’s face. Bending down to take a closer look, Erwin feels a jolt of surprise. The sketch does look like him, it’s an uncanny likeness in fact. Some details are a bit off; the jawline isn’t quite right, and the hair is all wrong, Erwin’s is shorter and has never been that neat, but the eyebrows are definitely his. He could easily pass for the man in the picture, despite his rather peculiar attire. Who the hell wears a dress suit with a bolo tie? As the initial shock subsides, Erwin’s eye is drawn to a tiny figure in the background of the picture, standing in place of the i in the Hita sign. Though the image is small, and the man is dressed in casual modern clothes and carrying a backpack, Erwin is quite certain it is the same man as the statue. He turns back to the desk to ask about the picture but finds that the receptionist is busy checking in a group of guests, so he resolves to ask later.
Erwin makes his way up to his room to settle in, it’s clean and comfortable, and has everything he needs, though the bed is a little smaller than he’s used to. He rests for a while, then unpacks his weekend bag, freshens up, and leaves the hotel to find somewhere to eat. He wanders round the centre of town for a while before settling on the Slow Cafe, a cafe restaurant recommended by the hotel. It’s a relaxed informal place and he spends a pleasant evening dining alone and watching people come and go. It’s dark by the time he leaves the cafe but he’s in no hurry as he strolls through the streets back towards the hotel. His route takes him past the train station and, once again, Erwins finds himself drawn irrevocably to the statue of the small man beneath the clock. He stands in front of the statue for a long time, wondering what it is about the strange figure that makes his heart beat a little faster. Without really thinking, he reaches up and brushes his thumb over the statue’s smooth cold cheek.
The effect is instantaneous. A searing shock like a bolt of lightning and Erwin feels like his head has been split open. He stumbles forward, clutching his head, knocking hard against the marble plinth of the statue. He tries to put his right hand out to steady himself but there’s nothing there, just the empty sleeve of his greatcoat flapping uselessly by his side. Erwin gapes in horror. Another shock and he feels the world tilting and sliding, vision smearing sickeningly, as memories of his past life come crashing down on him all in an instant. He can hear voices calling out loud and urgent though the square is empty, and somewhere in the distance a rumbling like thunder. Erwin gasps for breath, his lungs choking with smoke and dust, eyes stinging, ears ringing, as boulders crash down around him. He staggers away from the statue and stumbles blindly across the road. A couple pass him in the street, casting concerned glances his way. He’s vaguely aware how he must look, but he’s in too much pain and shock to care. Somehow he makes it back to his hotel and up to his room, fumbling with his key with shaking clammy hands. As he lurches into the room an excruciating pain lances through his left side and he crumples onto the bed. The deluge of memories overwhelms him in a confused torrent. There’s no rhyme nor reason to them, one minute he’s a child in his father’s school room, the next he can feel the Titan’s teeth grinding down on his arm, bones snapping like twigs. Some of the memories are viscerally vivid. The stench of mud and blood and death has him retching into the waste bin beside the bed. He can hear the hellish crush of broken bones, the thunder of the horses hooves, the screams of dying soldiers. His soldiers. A heap of broken bloody corpses beneath his feet. Smoke chokes his lungs. Guilt and loathing dragging him down. But there are other memories, just as vivid, just as real, of storm grey eyes and silk dark hair, the warm press of lips, the clean scent of soap and tea, strong hands grounding him, absolving him, holding his broken parts together. Hope and strength. The relief of a weight lifting, of finally being able to rest. Other memories are hazy and insubstantial, as if viewed through a veil from a great way off. A figure shrouded in a green cloak lying on a bed, flowers in a bottle by the bedside, an explosion, a torn and bloodied body on the bank of a rushing river, the rumble of airships high overhead, walls crumbling and falling, a lone figure, tiny as a gnat, flying in the face of an inexorable wall of destruction, a plane taking off, carrying all that remains of hope and humanity, bones crumbling to dust, a vow fulfilled, a battlefield shrouded in smoke, and there among the piles of rubble, a last salute. The final image Erwin remembers before he passes out is a single tear streaking down a scarred, dust covered cheek.
Erwin wakes the next morning, still in his clothes, feeling peculiarly calm for someone who has just recovered memories of a traumatic past life. Some small part of his brain wonders if he has suffered a psychotic episode, if he should call Mike, try to find a doctor. Mike. Fuck. He wonders if Mike or Nanaba remember anything, but they’ve never given any indication that they have any memory of their past life. They’ve never even met each other in this world. Delusional as it may seem, Erwin doesn’t question that the memories that assailed him the previous night are real. There is no question in his mind. He remembers everything; every face of every soldier who died under his command. The only things missing are the names. Mike and Nanaba are the only faces he can put names to. It pains him inexplicably that he can not remember the name of the dark haired man. The one in the sketch in the foyer, the statue in front of the station, the man who gave him his strength, who lifted his burden, who laid him to rest. The man who fought for four long years to fulfill his vow to him. To Erwin.
Frustrated, Erwin gets up and showers, washing away the residue of sweat and horror from the previous night. He’s still too sick to eat so he makes his way out of the hotel in search of fresh air. It’s still early for a Saturday morning, just past eight o’clock. He intends to walk, to stretch his legs, but his steps lead him right back to the train station. Back to the statue. But as he approaches the square he realises he is not alone. Sitting on the Hita sign in the empty space where the “i” should be, is a man staring intently at his phone. A small man with dark hair, wearing a hoodie and carrying a backpack. Erwin’s heart leaps into his throat, blood pounding in his ears. It takes all his willpower not to yell, shout out, break into a run, but part of him is afraid that if he does, the man will vanish like a mirage. Instead he takes a deep shuddering breath, puts one foot in front of the other and walks purposefully towards the man.
“Levi,” he says. The name comes out of the blue and he knows instantly from the feel of it, the breath of it, the shape of it in his mouth, that this is right. This is Levi. His Levi.
The man looks up. He stares blankly at Erwin for a moment, not a trace of recognition. His brows start to crease into a frown that is so familiar, so beloved, that Erwin can not breathe.
“Levi,” he says again, desperation leaking into his voice. What if he doesn’t remember? What if this is all a psychotic delusion? “Levi, it’s me…”
There’s a moment of perfect stillness then Levi’s eyes widen in shock, “Erwin” he says.
Erwin’s not sure who moves first. But he’s pretty sure it’s Levi because he almost knocks him off his feet when he throws his arms around him. The moment they collide he feels Levi crumble, hears the grunt of pain and despair, as his past life slams down on him.
“It’s all right,” Erwin says, holding him tight. “I’ve got you Levi. I’m here.”
Levi’s clutching his head now, sweat breaking out over his already pale face.
“My fucking head,” he grits out through clenched teeth.
“I know,” Erwin soothes. “I know. It’s all right. My hotel is just across the road there. Think you make it? Come on, I’ll help you.”
Levi just nods.
Erwin wraps one arm around his shoulders, his weight is reassuringly solid and familiar and he fits so perfectly against Erwin’s side it’s like he was always meant to be there. He was always meant to be there. This is what Erwin has been missing, what he has been seeking all his life.
They make it back to the hotel and up to Erwin’s room where he steers Levi towards the bed. Levi sits down heavily and places his head in his hands. He’s breathing too fast and clutching his head like it’s the only thing keeping it in place.
“Just hold on,” Erwin says, rummaging for a fresh bottle of water in his bag. “Here,” he says, “drink this.” When Levi doesn’t look up, Erwin kneels down in front of him and gently pulls his hands away from his face.
“Levi,” he says softly and when Levi lifts his head, his face is streaked with tears, and for a moment, Erwin’s vision blurs and he sees that same exhausted tear stained face amidst the rubble on the battlefield of Fort Salta.
“I’m sorry,” Levi chokes, “I took so long. Four years, four fucking years Erwin, and I still couldn’t save them all.”
“Hey,” Erwin says, drawing him into a tight embrace. He can feel hot tears against his neck, soft hair against his cheek. “You did it Levi. You did everything you could and more. I’m so proud of you. So, very, very proud. You can rest now. I’m here.”
They spend the whole day together, Erwin holds Levi, soothes him as best he can, as he’s buffeted by the waves of memories that threaten to overwhelm him. Levi’s recall seems to be better than Erwin’s, he’s able to put names to all the faces Erwin remembers, plus many more besides. People that Erwin only saw from that far off distance in scenes that he now knows were faint reflections of events that happened after he died.
By the time it’s grown dark, Levi has stopped shuddering, he lies still and exhausted by Erwin’s side. Erwin has cramp in his arm where Levi is lying heavily against him but he doesn’t want to disturb him. Eventually Levi stirs. “Fuck,” he groans “I feel like I’ve been chewed up and spat out by a fucking Titan.”
“I’m not surprised,” Erwin replies. “I felt the same. Do you think you can eat or drink anything?”
“Fuck no,” Levi grimaces, but he accepts another drink of water. “Just want to sleep,” he mumbles, his eyes already heavy. “In bed. With you.”
Erwin’s heart swells, and not for the first time, he is overwhelmed by the simple trust this man places in him and wonders what he ever did to deserve such an incomparable gift.
“We can do that,” he smiles. “Just give me a moment.” He extracts himself from the bed and retreats to the bathroom to wash quickly. By the time he returns Levi is already lying naked in bed sound asleep. Erwin removes his clothes and slips in next to him, curling around his body, pulling him close. Erwin’s heart clenches as he remembers the last time he held Levi like this, in their own bed, the night before the mission to retake Shiganshina. He still smells the same, like soap and tea and everything Erwin has ever cared about.
They wake in the night and make love in the darkness, lit only by a thin sliver of moonlight that filters in through the window and gilds their bodies with silver. They’re tentative at first, unsure of boundaries, of who they are to each other in this new life, but body and muscle memory takes over and then they’re moving together in perfect unison. When Erwin takes Levi in his mouth, the sound he makes reverberates deep in his soul. And when Levi pushes inside him, Erwin knows that this, this is what he’s been searching for all these years.
Levi is already awake when Erwin comes too the next morning. He’s laying on his side gazing at Erwin’s face, with such an open unguarded expression that Erwin almost forgets how to breathe.
“Hey,” Erwin smiles.
“Hey,” Levi replies, lips tilting into that familiar half smile that Erwin treasures all the more for its rarity. “You still look like a disaster in the morning.” He reaches out and runs his fingers through Erwin’s hair, which is standing up in every direction. “Your hair is different. Shorter.”
“It’s easier to manage like this. I can’t be assed with all that pomade business these days. Yours is still the same.” Erwin brushes a strand of hair off Levi’s brow, tucking it behind his ear.
“Creature of habit I guess.” Levi shrugs. The sheet slips off his shoulder revealing an intricate tattoo of intertwined feathers that wind down over his upper arm.
“You still have your wings,” Erwin traces the lines of dark ink.
“Always.” Levi replies. “And you still have your arm.” He reaches out and runs his hand over Erwin’s right shoulder, down over his bicep, his forearm, to his hand. Erwin turns his hand over revealing the thin silver scar that runs across his palm.
“You still have the scar? How did that happen?”
“It’s always been there,” Erwin replies. “I was born with it. Apparently the midwife told my parents it was just a minor birth defect. When I was a kid my dad used to tell me it made me special.”
“It does.” Levi replies fiercely, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly.
Much as Erwin would love to linger in bed with Levi all morning, his hotel reservation is only for two nights and he needs to check out by ten. As they leave the hotel, Erwin points out the drawing in the glass case.
“Look familiar?”
Levi stares at the drawing, thin brows rising in surprise. “That’s fucked up.” He says, shaking his head.
“They even made a statue of you,” Erwin points across the street as they exit the hotel.
Levi snorts a laugh. “A couple of folk I know said there was a statue here that looks a bit like me. I told them to fuck off.”
“It’s not a bad likeness,” Erwin says as they cross the road and stand in front of the statue.
Levi stares at in silence for a few moments. “I don’t remember ever looking that young,” he says eventually. “I certainly never felt it.”
“You look younger now,” Erwin smiles, before something occurs to him that makes a cold weight slide in his stomach. “Actually, how old are you Levi?”
“Seventeen.” Levi replies.
Erwin gapes.
“Joking. I’m twenty-five.”
“Oh thank fuck.” Erwin almost doubles over with relief.
“You?”
“Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine in October.”
“Guess you’re still the old man huh?” Levi nudges him.
“Always.” Erwin laughs
“They made statues of you too,” Levi says, quietly. “Back in….before.”
“Oh?” Erwin looks down at him curiously.
“I hated them all. None of them were you.”
He’s frowning at the statue in front of them, but Erwin knows he isn’t really seeing it, he’s lost in memories of their previous lives. He places one hand on Levi’s shoulder and squeezes gently.
“There was one I didn’t mind.” Levi continues. “It was in a museum, under this big domed roof. The Reeves Corporation made it. They collected all these donations from the folk in Trost to make a statue of you.”
“Really? I’m touched.” Erwin’s replies, surprised by the strength of the emotion.
They stand side by side before the statue for a while longer, lost in their memories. Erwin’s hand is still resting on Levi’s shoulder, Levi pressing against his side, grounding each other.
It’s Levi who moves first, shaking off the memories with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Want to get some breakfast? I’m starving.”
They go to the same cafe where Erwin ate the night before, which coincidentally, or not, turns out to be Levi’s regular haunt whenever he’s in town.
They slip easily into conversation, as though they’d never left off. Levi speaks fluent English, and though his accent is very different, his speech is immediately familiar. He’s still as crude and caustic as he was in their previous life.
Erwin orders coffee, Levi tea, and Erwin can’t help smiling when he notices the characteristic way Levi holds his cup.
“You still hold your cup the same way.”
“What way?” Levi looks down at the cup in his hand, frowning. “Huh. I never noticed.”
Over breakfast of omelets and several small dishes that Erwin doesn’t recognise but devours with relish, he learns that Levi lives in Kusu, a small town nearby, where he works as a massage therapist at a sports clinic. He’s been considering setting up his own business in Hita which is why he’d been in town that weekend.
“I was supposed to be meeting a guy so I could look at some premises I’m thinking of renting. But the guy bailed at the last minute. Asshole. I was checking the time of the next train back home when you found me outside the station. What about you? What do you do? What brought you to Hita?”
“Well, I work as a teacher,” Erwin starts.
“Of course you do.” Levi interrupts. “Let me guess. History?”
“English actually, though I did do my masters in history, so I’ll give you that.”
Levi smiles smugly and sips his tea.
“I don’t really know what drew me to Hita,” Erwin confesses. Although that’s not strictly true any more. He knows exactly what brought him here now. “I just had this feeling that I had to come here. I came to Japan on holiday, I’ve been staying with Mike in Yokohama. I’m supposed to be going back this afternoon, then I was planning to go up north to Sapporo to visit Nanaba.”
“Do they remember?”
“No,” Erwin shakes his head. “I don’t think so, but I’m pretty sure they would if they met.”
“They’re not together?”
“They’ve never even met. I’ve known Mike since I was a kid, but I only met Nanaba through work a few years back. I think I need to introduce them as soon as I can.” Erwin pauses. “Actually…. I don’t have to leave just yet, I could call Mike…” he tails off, unsure if he’s overstepped an invisible boundary.
Levi stares at his tea, noncommittal. “You could come and stay with me for a few days if you want,” he mutters, cheeks colouring.
Erwin doesn’t think twice.
“Thank you Levi. I’d love that.”
They pay up, and as they leave the restaurant, Erwin pauses by the door. There’s a framed picture hanging on the wall, drawn in the same style as the one in the hotel.
“Does that face look familiar to you?” he asks, squinting at the picture.
Levi barks a short laugh. “Ha! It’s Kirstein. Remember him? Tall kid, smart, always yanking Eren’s chain.”
They make their way back to the station, where they have some time to kill before the train leaves for Kusu. Erwin tries to persuade Levi to stand in front of the statue for a picture, but he flat refuses. Instead he talks him into standing in the Hita sign where the “i” should be, just like the drawing in the hotel. As Erwin takes the picture he knows in his heart, this is exactly where he should be too.