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Eren had never met the two scouts who died. He hadn’t even been there.
It had just been a routine mission—the one that went out every week to drop supplies and build fortifications along the route to Wall Maria. All the scouts had done it before, and they’d all survived it before. Until this week’s group had been surprised by a horde. A fast horde. Fast enough that it would have been a much bloodier day if it weren’t for the four scouts who had turned back to fight—giving the rest of the retreating force a chance to escape to Titan Forest where they’d have a height advantage. According to the two surviving fighters of that foursome, Elias and Katja had taken quite a few down with them before they’d been lost in the swarm.
These were the first casualties in several months, and everyone was feeling shaken by it. When nothing went wrong, it was easy to forget that being a scout was a matter of life and death. Easy to feel invincible. To believe that as long as your team was capable enough, you’d never have to see them crushed between giant teeth, never have to hear them gurgling their last breaths on the ground through lungs punctured by their own shattered ribs. Never have to look away for a moment and turn back to find your comrade simply gone and wondering if it was their blood leaking from a Titan’s mouth; knowing that it was.
But this had sharply clarified their reality again, particularly for the year’s new scouts who weren’t yet hardened to death. Eren had been ruminating about it all day, ever since the fatalities were announced that morning. He didn’t get very far trying to talk about it with Mikasa, who very matter-of-factly pointed out that this was normal life for scouts, and if anything the previous few months of relative peace had been the fluke. While Eren understood her logic, he wasn’t about to accept so much horror so easily. So he’d spent the past few hours alone under a tree, thinking, and the one thought that kept creeping back into his head was: I should have been there.
That thought was at the forefront of his mind when he saw Captain Levi a short distance away, walking briskly down the path between the training grounds and command barracks. Before he could talk himself out of it, Eren jumped up and ran after him. “Wait—Levi!” He immediately cringed, realizing he was too accustomed to referring to the captain casually among his friends and hoping the mistake would somehow go unnoticed.
“Absolutely not, Jaeger.” Levi didn’t slow down. “To you it’s ‘captain’ or ‘sir,’ or—and this might be my personal favorite option—being quiet and somewhere away from me.”
“Yes, sir, sorry—I meant to say Captain Levi," Eren said, trying to catch his breath and keep up at the same time. "But anyway, I…”
"So just to be clear," Levi drawled, "we're not doing option three?"
Ignoring this, Eren blurted out what he'd come to say. "Captain, those scouts didn't have to die."
That did make Levi stop, finally. “Let me guess. Because you could have saved them?”
“If I’d been out there, it would have been a very different fight,” Eren argued. “I know you know that too.”
“Every battle changes with different variables involved,” Levi agreed without actually agreeing. “Can’t say for sure, though. Wasn’t there.”
Eren got to the point: the solution he’d been rolling around in his thoughts for the last hour. “You and Commander Erwin should just send me out with every team, sir. I can be like the backup plan if something goes wrong.”
“Out of the question,” Levi replied. “You’re still learning how to control your ability and we don’t even have a good grasp on how much exertion or damage you can take. For the time being, you’ll go on the missions it’s safest for you to go on.”
“I’m strong enough,” Eren argued, feeling a familiar frustration well up inside him. “There’s no reason people need to die while I’m sitting around inside the damn wall.”
“I appreciate your willingness to defend your comrades, but every single one of them knows what they signed up for,” Levi said. “And a good commander knows when to strategically deploy his best weapons. In most cases, basic supply runs are not that time.”
“If you actually cared about your troops, every time someone goes outside the walls would be that time,” Eren snapped.
“What happened yesterday was unfortunate, but we don’t need to increase the risk of you getting killed on some low-level mission when there will be plenty of situations where we actually need the extra power,” Levi said impassively. “And watch your tone.”
Sometimes it just irritated Eren how composed and reasonable the captain was, especially with how goddamn cavalier he was acting about the deaths, and the words came out of his mouth before he could swallow them: “Fuck you.”
That was when Levi backhanded him—not brutally, but hard enough for a sharp shock to remind him who and where he was.
And Eren knew it was the physical version of a shut up/check yourself, but his cheek was stinging and he wasn’t good at taking reprimands in silence, so he sniffled a little and said, “I hate you.”
Still as nonplussed as ever, Levi replied, “Fine with me. I’d rather have you alive to hate me than dead with fond memories.”
When Eren didn’t have a reply, the captain asked, “Anything else?”
“Nothing else,” Eren said, “sir.” He thought the sarcastic edge in his voice might get him slapped again, but Levi just nodded, looking a little weary.
“There’s a fire ceremony for the fallen this evening,” he said over his shoulder as he started down the path again. “All are welcome.”
And again, Eren couldn’t stop himself; his thoughts were so bitter that he had to spit them out. “The fallen? Do you even know their names?”
Levi paused, and Eren thought he might come back. He wanted him to. It would be worth it to get hit again. He wanted to make him angry. But in the end, Levi just looked back at him, and something flashed over his face, but it wasn’t anger. Even worse: it might have been pity. He said, “I remember all of their names.” And this time, Eren didn’t say anything when he walked away.
Sometimes when Eren was getting a little overly heated, Levi would send him to run it off at the track—but he hadn’t today, so Eren sent himself. Pouring his feelings into motion helped him get them out of his system when he couldn’t just let them go. He hated how helpless he felt when people died, and he could never help but wonder which of his own friends would be the first not to return from a mission. Who would Katja and Elias be next time? Connie? Krista? Maybe even Armin or Mikasa? Here one moment, laughing in the barracks, then wiped from the earth without a trace?
Even just the idea of not being able to save the people he cared about—again—filled him with so much shame he didn’t know where to put it. It seemed easiest to turn it into anger. Shame weighed him down like a boulder in his stomach; anger felt good, invigorated him, made him faster. He ran until his legs and lungs hurt, then ran more until they hurt more. When he finally let himself collapse in the grass, his body ached and his head was clearer.
Unfortunately, a clear head had room in it for regret. He still didn’t feel like his idea had been wrong, necessarily, but shit—he had never spoken to the captain like that before. Here he was, some fresh recruit, arguing with his superior officer, cursing at him, acting resentful and petty when he didn’t get his way… In retrospect, he was a little surprised he’d lived through that interaction. Maybe Levi was just waiting for a more convenient time to kill him.
Eren groaned and rolled over, pushing himself to his feet. He was sweaty and dusty and desperately needed to go wash up, then find his friends to take his mind off everything for a little while.
The evening ceremony took place where it always did, at the scouts’ memorial gardens. Most of the soldiers took turns tending the gardens, which were full of bright blooming flowers and fragrant herbs. And when there were deaths, everyone who came to observe them would clip a flower or stem of their choice and add it to the bonfire burning in a large circle of rocks in the garden’s center. The flames would take the offerings, with all their life and color, and reduce them to gray ash that blew away in the night wind when the fire was out and everyone had left.
Eren went by himself, without telling anyone. Since he and the rest of the younger cohort hadn’t known the dead scouts, he didn’t feel like explaining why he wanted to go. He just felt like he should.
When he entered the garden, there were several scouts already scattered around the blazing bonfire, which must have been at least eight feet high. Some were standing in small groups, talking in quiet murmurs, while others stood alone in silent contemplation. Levi was one of those, standing off by himself between the shadows and firelight, with his eyes on the embers, looking like he was somewhere far away.
Seeing him made Eren feel ashamed of his behavior all over again, and he didn’t want to disturb the captain during such a reflective moment. He was about to sneak past, to the other side of the fire, when Levi turned his head and their eyes met. The squad leader just nodded, and Eren nodded back, then Levi held out his knife, handle first. Accepting it, Eren turned toward the garden, scanning the lush jungle of plants spilling out of their neat raised boxes. The lavender was in full bloom and giving off a beautiful aroma that drew him in immediately, so Eren gently separated out one of its stalks and cut it neatly at the bottom. He handed Levi’s knife back and held the flower in his palm for a moment, admiring the dozens of delicate purple petals climbing the thin green stem. Then he crouched and placed it at the base of the bonfire.
It only took a moment for the flames to find it. The scouts both watched as the edges of each tiny leaf and petal dissolved under the creeping lines of light, until all that remained was a subtle scent of perfume rising in the smoke.
Eren appreciated the garden ritual. When scouts died, there usually wasn’t a body to bring home, so over time they’d invented their own replacements for normal funeral observances. This was one that had stuck around. It was just a simple, peaceful way to remember all the bright lives that had burned away.
“You can’t save them all, you know,” Levi said quietly after another minute of staring into the flames. “I had to learn that too. I thought if I trained harder and fought more, people would stop dying out there. They don’t. So there’s no use in getting too attached, and you certainly shouldn’t feel responsible.”
“But it’s different with me, Captain,” Eren said, keeping his voice level, trying not to sound like he was restarting the argument. “I know you’re Humanity’s Strongest, but I’m…not just a human anymore. I just know I could be doing more than I am.”
Levi gave him a long, appraising look, like he was figuring out for himself whether Eren was still on the warpath. Then he looked back at the fire. “Honestly, Eren, if you want to save the greatest amount of people, killing Titans on trivial missions won’t be the way. No matter how many we kill, there are always more.” He’d called him ‘Eren,’ not ‘Jaeger,’ which always made Eren relax a little. It was a signal that the captain was in a rare mood to be less formal with him, less stern, more like a person.
“So what is the way?” Eren pressed, then wondered if he was overstepping and would make the walls go back up. “I mean—you don’t owe me an explanation, sir.”
“No, but maybe if I give you one you’ll be less high-strung.” Levi side-eyed him. “The commander believes our only real shot, long term, is to figure out where they come from and how to stop them at the source. I don’t know if he’s right or if that’s possible, but to even make an attempt, we’ll need your help. And an idea like that…if we could do it…it wouldn’t just save a few people. It would give all of humanity a chance to really live again.”
“Oh,” Eren said. “That’s what you meant about deploying me strategically?”
“It’s the main thing I had in mind.”
Guilt had been gnawing at Eren’s conscience about what he’d said before. “Captain, I shouldn’t have…” He paused, then just said what he wanted to. “I don’t really hate you.”
Levi snorted, which was the closest he usually got to a laugh. “Never thought you did, brat. If I bothered getting my feelings hurt by teenagers, I’d probably have fed myself to a Titan a long time ago.”
That made Eren feel a little better. “I don’t even know why I was…like that…I just…”
“You just wanted a reaction,” Levi said. “Hope you liked the one you got.”
“No, but it could have been worse,” Eren admitted. “I mean, as long as you aren’t about to tell me we should talk about it more in your office.” He meant the kind of talk that ended painfully, which in Levi’s office was about a fifty-fifty shot. The captain preferred using work duties or strenuous exercise as consequences for minor missteps, but Eren had personally learned that he wasn’t averse to hands-on correction for more egregious behavior among younger recruits.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Levi said, “but the day isn’t over yet. I’m sure you could find a few more buttons to push if you’re determined to end up there.”
Quickly shaking his head, Eren answered, “No, sir. I know I was out of line. I’m done.”
“Music to my ears.” Levi used his boot to nudge one of the fire circle’s rocks back into place; it had been askew so slightly that only he would notice. “Let’s just agree that you’ve used up your quota of disrespect for the week, please.”
Eren chewed his lip absentmindedly. “I’m trying to think more before I react, like you keep telling me. It just doesn’t always…work.”
“Uh huh,” Levi said, sounding skeptical. “Well, I’ll continue to remind you, whether you appreciate it at the time or not.”
With a groan, Eren asked, “I’m supposed to appreciate it?”
“If that part ever happens, I will be as shocked as you.”
“How are you so calm all the time, anyway? With this kind of life?” It was something Eren had wondered for a while, but it never felt like the right time to ask.
“Easy,” Levi said. “I’ve seen too much and I’m a jaded bastard.”
Eren pretended to take notes. “See…too much…and get…super jaded. Got it.”
Although Levi might have been the least expressive person Eren had ever met, he was starting to be able to tell when the captain was secretly amused by something he’d said, and it always felt like scoring a point in a difficult game. “Got a feeling that might happen to you either way, punk. You don’t have to rush it.”
“Well, I’m getting mixed messages now,” Eren countered. “Do you want me to calm down or not?”
“You don’t have to be like me, but you also don’t have to spew your emotions all over the place every time you have them,” Levi explained slowly, like he was talking to an idiot.
“Interesting idea,” Eren replied. “I’ll give it some thought.”
The captain waved a hand dismissively. “Give it thought somewhere else. You’re getting mouthy.”
Hiding a grin, Eren kicked an escaped coal back into the fire, then turned toward the path out of the garden. “See you tomorrow, sir.”
“What a time to be alive,” Levi muttered.
Eren took his time walking back to the barracks. Night was falling over camp, cool and clear, and the scent of bonfire smoke had clung to his clothes. Lantern light shone from the windows of the buildings he passed, painting flickering rectangles on the pressed earth. It was the kind of moment that made him feel nostalgic before it was even over.
When the young scout reached the building he and his cohort called home, he didn’t go in right away. The common room was lit and there was an indistinct hum of voices inside, sometimes broken by laughter. Although he felt more settled than he had all day, there was something almost painful to Eren about hearing them laugh. He closed his eyes and listened to it for a moment. Before. Then he lifted his shirt sleeve to his face and inhaled the smoke, picturing their barracks silent and empty. After.
But he reminded himself that there might not have to be an after. If Commander Erwin was right, if there was truly a way to stop all this horror…maybe he would never have to burn flowers for his friends.
He flinched as the door to the barracks suddenly crashed open. “Oops, I didn’t mean for that to be so loud,” Sasha said to someone behind her.
“Everything you do is loud,” Ymir pointed out.
Krista was the last of the three to come outside, but somehow the first to see Eren. She smiled. “We were just wondering where you were!”
“Eren!” Sasha screeched, not doing a good job at disproving Ymir’s observation. “Thank god. Come inside. We need a tie-breaker vote on a very important argument, and I think you’ll find my side quite compelling…”
Before he had any time to protest, Sasha and Krista had each seized him by a wrist and were dragging him inside to judge what he already knew would be a very unimportant argument. He put up the faintest amount of resistance, which made the girls tighten their grips and threaten him rather viciously with their ideas of consequences for desertion. Ymir just cocked an eyebrow at the chaos unfolding in front of her, and for some reason that was the thing that made Eren start laughing.
“Don’t laugh, this is serious!” Krista said, but she might have been more convincing if she hadn’t also been giggling the entire time.
They shoved him inside and slammed the door closed again, leaving the darkening night and Eren’s dark thoughts behind them.
And as the hours crept on, long after their chatter and laughter had quieted into sleep, the embers of the fire slowly went cold in the garden, and the lavender ashes scattered in the wind.