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There was something special about her. Something different.
Sasha Blouse wasn't any like the other Eldians. She didn't regard him with suspicious looks; there weren't ill-feelings or resentment in her eyes. In contrast, there was a light in her pupils he couldn't ignore and a sheer, innocent (almost childish) curiosity.
She'd asked him a lot of questions. Where this comes from, how this is called. Can I eat that, can I mix this with those. Having Sasha fluttering around his kitchen became the usual thing, and unintended, he got used to it.
Purity.
"This is delicious!"
Unconsciously, Niccolo smiled to himself. Everything was delicious for Sasha, even the simplest plate. He watched her finish, or more exactly, devour her soup. She finished within seconds and put the empty bowl on the table.
"In the corps we were lucky if we had potato broth".
The comment took him by surprise. It wasn't a complaint, just a casual remark. Niccolo asked more, moved by curiosity. Sasha obliged and explained that after Maria's fall, Wall Rose was filled with refugees that needed to be fed. This made the whole economy in the region collapse, and as consequence, even years later it was a still a disaster. On top of that, the Survey Corps didn't get enough resources, so they were always on a budget for food. Having meat for dinner was almost a miracle, a luxury they couldn't afford. Sasha, unused to this sort of vegetarian diet, suffered not little. And so the story went on how she ran away from home to join the army, and how one day at the training camp a goddess brought her some water and bread after she spent the whole day jogging as a punishment from her superior.
The anecdote made him feel something, something that was making him uncomfortable. It was a feeling he did not welcome and he tried to ignore to no avail. Guilt. This was his own homeland's doing, when they send the warriors in that failed mission to get the founding titan. He had agreed then. Niccolo looked down, moved by a new emotion born from the previous one. Shame.
However, Sasha didn't blame him, or his country. She didn't say a word about hating the warriors, who once were here comrades and the authors of the massacre.
"So… can I have some more?"
It took him a while to get the question, and still shaken by the story, nodded. Sasha beamed in such a way that made him flush.
Beautiful.
Sasha was beautiful.
Her skin was kissed by sun; tanned after training for so many hours under the blazing sun of the afternoon, riding on expeditions, and the ongoing training under Yelena's command. She had long dark brown hair and chocolate-like eyes. She had a warming broad smile, a smile from the bottom of her heart.
The first time he saw her smile was the day of Paradis new port inauguration, when he was ordered to cook a special meal for the island military. It wasn't an especially beautiful smile (she had gravy running down her chin and bits of food on the corners of her mouth), but along her compliments to his food, he blushed like a teenager.
Every time Sasha smiled, that inopportune thought pecked at his head. He tried to convince himself to be rational and think in something else, that she was just a demon like the other Eldians and he was a respectable Marleyan soldier, but all his efforts were in vain. He was more and more drawn to her light, like moths to a flame.
Then everything went to hell, because he started noticing not only her smiles, but the way her eyes lighted up when he told her about the delicious food he used to cook back at Marley, the glow in her hair under the sunset and how her skin tone contrasted perfectly with her other traits.
She was completely unaware of his train of thought, and so she never questioned his growing invitations for dinner, or the food he made only for her, or that he told her first he was getting an important place in a new restaurant that was about to open. Every time Niccolo granted her his attentions, she beamed delightfully and his heart raced at an accelerated pace.
It wasn't just her smile and her dark eyes or her physical appearance he found beauty in. Sasha was a strong girl, she had kept moving forward despite the horror and hell she'd went through. Still, she kept smiling. Her happiness and everything else behind her smile were powerful because she didn't hide the pain, but got strength from it. Sasha had cried and suffered, and yet bitterness couldn't hold her.
Strength.
She had told him about Reiner, Berthold and Annie. Annie, who called the titans that wiped out Shiganshina and then everything inside Wall Maria. Annie, the quiet girl who was her partner for three years. Berthold, who she cried for when she was told he was eaten by Armin turned into a titan. Reiner was like a big brother to everyone, who betrayed her and everyone else. And Mina Carolina, Nac Thius, Thomas Warner, Mylius Zaramusky and so many others who were left behind and burn down to ashes by the same flames that consumed Marco Bodt's body.
She told him about her near death encounters, about how Mikasa and then the squad leader saved her from dying in the mouth of the titans. She told him about the fear she felt, acid and devouring, the adrenaline rushing in her veins running from one place to another when they put a price on her head. She told him about the raining rocks that obliterated almost every living soul in the Survey Corps; and even though she didn't tell him, he was told she faced a titan in battle just with an arrow and bow to save a little girl's life.
He's not quite sure when he fell in love with her, he only knows that by the time he saw her and a word from his own tongue came to him, he was already past beyond the point of no return.
Krasivaya.
Marley, as many other nations had two languages: the common tongue, or devil's tongue as they called, and their own language which had barely survived Eldia's former dominion. His mother tongue was hard and overflowing with plosive and velar sounds. Similarly, its words expressed power and harshness. It wasn't known for being sweet, or a poetic language for the matter, and yet there was a word that fit Sasha perfectly.
Krasivaya.
That's how he wants to remember her. Pure, strong, beautiful. Unique.
Not the way those who came back from Marley described her. Not the awful grave he brought flowers to. Not like someone who got fatally shot when she was coming back safe to home.
Krasivaya is the best word for her and yet it falls short to describe how precious was Sasha to him and everything she taught him, everything she helped him remember.
"Krasivaya", he reads in the face of the silver, and takes the engraved ring to his chest.