What if? 4 Years with You? (Eremika)

5. Cabin

The sun, piercing through the mountains, rose and coloured the sky blue. Mikasa and Eren set about the task of restoring the wooden cabin they would call home, even though the environment was full of challenges.

Their first task was to bid a proper farewell to the elderly couple, whose lives had reached their final chapter. Covered in dirt, Eren immersed himself in the arduous task of digging a deep hole, yet the ground seemed to resist, stubbornly containing intrusive rocks.

While Eren sweated to overcome the resistance of the terrain, Mikasa, in the cosy cabin, dedicated herself to gathering the couple's belongings. Among items of value and precious mementoes, such as letters, photographs, and frames, she prepared a fitting memorial to accompany the elderly pair on their posthumous journey.

"Mikasa," called Eren, entering the cabin and noticing the wide-open windows, allowing the fresh breeze to dispel the atmosphere heavy with the couple's departure. "I can't dig any further. I could transform and—"

Mikasa, who was absorbed in reading love letters, interrupted him with a focused look. "Eren, transforming means making noise, causing tremors and—" It was Eren's turn to interrupt.

"Just my arm. The ground is impractical. And, honestly, we might not be able to cultivate here. There are too many rocks. However, there's a broad river, and I can fish to sustain us."

"That sounds like a good idea, then. Sorry, I was distracted... Their story is so beautiful."

Eren approached gently. "Are these all their belongings?"

"Yes... some of them have significant sentimental value."

A respectful silence hung over the scene, broken only by the sigh of the wind among the trees.

"Let's sell them," proposed Eren, breaking the silence with a pragmatic idea.

"Eren!" exclaimed Mikasa, surprised and somewhat shocked by the proposal.

Eren's gaze remained steady. "What's wrong?"

"It seems insensitive!" Mikasa replied, her eyes reflecting a mix of disbelief and disapproval.

However, Eren, with calm conviction, tried to explain his perspective. "I don't think so. I believe they would be happy if that money wasn't buried with them but used in a more meaningful way."

Mikasa frowned, trying to understand the logic behind his proposal. "For example, buying windows to protect us from the coming winter."

Eren's justification lingered in the air, filling the space between them with an idea that, though pragmatic, carried an essence of respect and practical utility. The cabin, now enveloped in twilight hues, bore witness not only to physical restoration but also to the formation of decisions that would shape the couple's future in that rural setting.

The next three weeks were long and arduous.

Mikasa, with her meticulous skill, focused on the broken window panes. Her sharp eyes identified every shard of glass, and with graceful movements, she replaced the fragments with new glass, restoring the transparency that allowed the gentle twilight to filter through.

While she worked, Eren lifted the shutters so Mikasa could fix them with precision, turning a simple act of repair into a coordinated dance. When the task was finally complete, they both smiled with satisfaction, separated by a pane of glass. Eren, blushing fiercely and embarrassed by his reaction, hastily wiped the glass with a cloth, pretending to clean it to hide his now flushed face, leaving Mikasa momentarily perplexed.

Inside the cabin, the two delved into the pantry, where the unpleasant surprise of decomposing organic food awaited them. Mikasa, with her keen sense of smell, identified the items unfit for consumption, while Eren moved furniture and shelves, making the pantry more accessible and the task more efficient for Mikasa.

However, not everything in the pantry was lost. Carefully stacked canned goods provided a glimpse of culinary hope. Smiling, Mikasa picked up the ready-to-eat items.

Mikasa handed a can to Eren, knowing he had the ability to read due to his father's memories, which allowed him to read the same variant of the language from Marley or Liberio. "Canned salmon... canned tuna, canned chickpeas, and... canned beans."

"I find it fascinating that you can read," Mikasa smiled, arranging the cans and noting them down on paper.

"Well, my father's memories didn't just give me nightmares; I learned how to make medicines, dress wounds... It's like the knowledge surfaces out of nowhere."

"That must be wonderful. I'd love to learn how to embroider like my mother and do cross-stitch."

"It has its downsides. I sometimes get headaches, dizziness, and—" He stopped himself when he noticed the extreme concern in Mikasa's eyes. "Oi, Oi, Oi! Can't I say anything without you worrying? Don't start."

Mikasa didn't respond, sighing deeply, and went outside to wash the dusty dishes and glasses.

"In Marley, they use glass... Please be careful not to break them," Mikasa requested.

"I will. Did you know glass is made from sand? It was scarce in Paradis, so we didn't use it still. Only the very high classes did. Because it's so cheap to produce, it's widely used here."

"Sand...?! But how?" Mikasa asked incredulously, placing the dried dishes and glasses on the dark wooden table.

"Well, I don't know exactly. But it's something like a furnace," Eren tried to explain, lacking the vocabulary to describe what he knew.

"How did you learn that?" Mikasa questioned, while continuing to arrange the cans neatly, labelling each one with a cloth and crocheting a thread around each can, creating a sort of curtain. She wrote down what Eren had informed her.

"I... don't know. I have random memories." Eren sat down, and Mikasa, without realizing it, sat down to keep him company.

"Oh... I understand." She knew those questions caused him immense discomfort. "Do you prefer tuna or salmon?" she asked, diverting from the previous topic.

"Hmm." He pondered, staring at the cans and holding a few. "It doesn't matter." He shrugged. "Ah, Niccolo's food would hit the spot right now."

"Well, I bought a Marleyan cookbook, so I can experiment with the fish you catch from the river." Mikasa still had some cans to tie with the thread.

Eren ignored the cans and fixed his eyes on Mikasa's face, who was hurriedly and absently focused on her task. He knew that, in truth, nothing that was happening was "real," but it wasn't a dream either. It was his powers that had brought them here, it was he who had forced her to respond differently. As Mikasa labelled the cans, she was also battling against hundreds of Titans he had created, trying to survive or trying to kill him. This last thought nearly turned his stomach. How could she, so gentle, kill him? She couldn't, not with these memories he was offering. Not in this way, and he, selfishly, wanted this very much and, above all, wanted more. Without realising it, his eyes no longer fixed on her pale face but on her full, red lips. From time to time, she bit them in frustration as the thread slipped down the can. She murmured something, but he couldn't distinguish a word, and she continued to murmur, but Eren remained fixated on her lips and—

"This... isn't working!" Mikasa exclaimed, her frustration evident in her raised voice.

Eren simply responded, "It's alright..." resting his head on his hand, elbow propped on the table. He could stay there all day, but time was scarce.

"Eren... meanwhile, we need to... tell them something." He knew exactly what she meant.

"Yes..."

They needed to give many explanations. To Armin. To Commander Hange, Captain Levi... But none of that would be necessary because none of this was going to happen.

In fact, they were in the Paths. Where the black, starry sky, streaked with veins of white and blue light, was transformed into a blue sky, and the dark landscape was converted into snowy mountains. And where the sand-covered ground turned into green grass and, instead of being vast and infinite, there was a wooden house lost in Marley.

And for another moment, not knowing what might happen next, Eren allowed himself to be selfish just a bit longer.