Memories

Chapter 5

Winter 1994.

"Your scarf is beautiful, but it seems quite old. Where did you get it, milady?" Eren asked, his eyes lingering on Mikasa's long, frayed red scarf.

"Oh, it's a long story..." Mikasa responded with a distant look, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric.

They sat in the park, watching the children run around, their laughter echoing through the warm summer air. The two of them usually kept their conversations light, focusing on their favorite books or the shows that had once captivated them. Talking about their lives before the retirement home was a rarity. They'd shared only the most basic details—where they were born, where they had grown up. Both had scars and fears, remnants of a past neither wanted to revisit.

Eren wondered if he had just unknowingly touched an old wound. He hadn't meant to, but his curiosity was piqued.

"Well, we have all the time in the world, don't we?" Eren said with an awkward laugh, trying to break the tension.

"I was in the war," Mikasa whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Oh, you were a nurse... that's amazing. I fought in the war too. Seeing women like you always lifted our spirits. I'll never forget the nurses who helped me," Eren said, trying to offer some comfort, though his words felt inadequate.

Mikasa quickly corrected him, her voice firmer. "I was a soldier."

"You were what?" Eren asked, his surprise evident.

"I was a soldier. At first, I fought for Japan, but then... I joined the Chinese."

Eren turned to look at her, his mind reeling. How could this gentle, reserved woman have been a soldier? He had his own nightmares, haunted by the faces of those who had perished, the memories of death and destruction. But Mikasa—he had never imagined her life had been marked by the same horrors. He wanted to ask her more, to understand, but before he could, Mikasa continued.

"I was sold by my orphanage to the army when I was eight," Mikasa began, her voice steady but tinged with an old pain. "They didn't buy me to be a soldier, if you understand what I mean." Her eyes welled up with tears she didn't let fall. "But I guess they saw I was strong, so instead of... using me, they trained me."

"I'm so sorry," Eren whispered, feeling utterly powerless in the face of her suffering.

"My training days were probably the best days," Mikasa said softly. "I had friends... Annie and Connie..." Her voice faltered, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "But then I was captured by the Chinese. They tortured me for months. But instead of killing me, they saw potential in me. They made me a deal: fight for them, and they'd let me live."

Eren's heart ached as he listened to her. "Your story... it sounds familiar. Are you...?"

They both spoke at the same time, their voices a quiet echo of each other.

"The Death Soldier."

"Yes, that's what they called me," Mikasa said, her voice filled with the weight of the title. "But it's not something I like to remember. Can we continue this later?"

Mikasa slowly rose with the help of her walker, and Eren instinctively moved to assist her. The moment felt fragile, as if the slightest misstep could shatter the fragile connection they had.

Hours later, they were back in the retirement home's cafeteria, surrounded by others their age. Eren tried to engage in the usual banter, complaining about the food and the antics of the younger generation, but his mind kept drifting back to Mikasa. She sat quietly, a sketchbook open in front of her, her pencil moving across the paper as she spoke with Gabi, a younger resident.