𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓.ᴀɴɴɪᴇ ʟᴇᴏɴʜᴀʀᴅᴛ, ᴍɪᴋᴀꜱᴀ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ

『𝟐𝟰』𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐒 𝐇𝐐

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟐𝐓𝐇, 𝟖𝟓𝟎 𝐀𝐓 𝟎𝟕:𝟓𝟏
⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺⸺

  The distinct smell of decaying bodies hung heavily in the air. It was a new sensation -one that you hoped your body wouldn't get used to in the long run- that made your eyes water the smallest bit; truth be told however, you weren't entirely sure if it was the stench that emitted from the three-day-old corpses that made those tears prick at your eyes, or the stress that the memories of the horrid day that produced the dead had brought you.

  And not even the type of stress that one would at first think.

  No, the concern wasn't for the countless lives lost that day -although you did feel a deep sense of remorse for them nonetheless- nor was it based upon your newly formed doubt on your relationship with Mikasa.

  It was based on this second you, the one that you couldn't understand. Since a few days had passed while canons and Survey Corps members cleared Trost of all but two titans, and you had time to digest what had happened, you entirely rescinded your guess that it was some kind of stress response, 'Commander Pixis had done just as I had predicted he would, almost down to a T -if it was just that, then maybe I could brush that off as some crazy, outlandish coincidence. But since I also had that confidence and skill that didn't seem to be my own, clearly something bigger must be going on here, right? I can't just keep brushing this off as a coincidence, because it's pretty much proved to be more than just that now.'

  With small steps, you carefully adjusted your white gloves and knelt down next to a body you couldn't recognise -the cadet looked to be a male of your year based on his jacket's patches, maybe about your age, had light hair and a forming stubble, and nothing left past his middle abdomen. You scrutinised his face for a good moment or two as he laid in the middle of the cobbled street, but ultimately didn't recognise him -something you were acutely grateful for. 'How many here aren't going to be recognised?' you contemplated before adding a selfish, darker angle to it, 'Would I have been remembered if I died? I didn't exactly befriend that many people here, I was always so isolated and focused on Mika...' Shaking your head, you tried to push the thoughts out, 'Why am I always so pessimistic? With or without Mika, I still have Annie and Marco who'd remember me for certain. Although, Marco...'

  You scrunched your brows in worry for a second before you forced yourself to lighten your self hold, 'I might not have seen him since we split up last, but I refuse to just give up on the hope that he's alive. He's a talented person, he knows how to survive.'

  Getting out a white tarp that you had tucked under your dominant arm to distract yourself from outcomes that were more realistic, you briefly remembered the hole in your jacket -that you had cleaned the blood off of but had yet to sew it up, as you were told that you weren't allowed a new jacket for something so fixable- while you flattened the sheet out where his legs should have been; you worked on the corners smally until you were satisfied with its state, the stark white partially burning your eyes as the sun bore its rays into your pupils. With imprinted vision, your hues drifted over to the cadaver yet again -and looking him over once more to try and figure out the best way to get him on the tarp, you eventually decided that instead of putting the body on top of the material, you should put the material under the body.

  Wincing as you flattened the white the best you could, you pressed your fingertips into the stone as you tried to push the end under the corpse without disrupting the few remaining organs that laid in the dark cavern. A fly or two darted away from their meal at the disturbance, causing for you to dodge your head out of the way as you refused to give up your progress; little sound was made aside from the few chipping flakes of dried blood clots that scratched in resistance and the squelching of some remaining internal organ or bodily fluid that hadn't hardened with dehydration yet, but the noises were so small and newly familiar to your ears that you barely took note of them.