Paper Airplanes (Ereri - SNK)

Changes.

Over the next year, Mikasa grew. And grew. And grew. I was told it was only about nine months or so, but to me it's felt like a year, and the longest, bleakest year of my life at that. I didn't think a woman would grow so much in having a child, but she did.

When she was somewhere between looking like she held a cantaloupe and a watermelon under her shirt, there was an afternoon when everyone gathered in the mess hall - her in a chair, Jean kneeling oh-so faithfully by her side, and the rest remaining in the castle surrounding her. I'd been 'woken' from the nap I was pretending to take and dragged up the stairs by an ever-enthusiastic Sasha, gushing, "The baby's kicking!" The only thing I can remember thinking is, "Babies know how to kick?"

Mikasa's eyes were the size of the moon as she sat in that chair, staring down at her protruding belly and cradling it between her hands. Her dark eyes reflected something between confusion, fear, and awe. Every once in awhile she'd gasp and her hand would fly to a different area of the lump and her eyes would get even bigger; there was a point where I thought they'd get so wide her eyeballs would pop out of her head and land right in her lap.

Everyone got a turn placing their hands on her stomach and waiting, waiting until they felt what I could only assume to be a little nudge coming from the inside. After Sasha had stood up from her third turn, Mikasa finally looked up, her eyes immediately landing on me. I stiffened just before she beckoned me forward with a wave of her hand. I had only a second to consider turning and running before all eyes found me and I was more than obligated to take a tentative step forward.

Without a word, Mikasa took one of my hands and placed it right to the center of her stomach. While the rest of my body was frozen, I could feel my heart hammering in my ribs and heat creeping up my neck to my ears. The world seemed to stand still for a moment before I felt that tiny stirring beneath my palm. Life.

My face must've given me away, because she smiled up at me a little, and in that smile was more happiness than I'd seen in years. Jean, too, had a dopey grin on that horse face of his and lightly smacked my shoulder. "Amazing, isn't it?" he asked.

"Humanity's tiniest soldier," Hanji joked from directly behind me.

"Mm, nah, no matter how small that thing is, I think Levi was still smaller," Connie added.

Light chuckles erupted around the group, but the only thing I wanted to do was puke and I high-tailed it out of there as fast as I could. That was the day I realized I'm the only one who isn't at peace with his death.

* * *

And one freezing winter's night several months later, Rory was born. I'd been wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor of the dining hall near one of the large windows watching snow fall in soft, delicate flakes with a cup of steaming tea held between my palms just before sunset when Armin gave me the news.

"Mikasa's in labor," he called softly from the doorway.

"What?" I mumbled.

"She's having the baby," he clarified, shuffling in my direction.

"Oh," I mumbled, turning back to my window, where the moisture of a small cloud of fog from my breath clung to the glass.

"What's the matter?" Armin asked, sinking to the floor at the other end of the window.

"Nothing."

"You can talk to me about it, you know."

"It's Levi's birthday." I took a quick sip of my tea - bland, almost tasteless, never the way he used to make it - to try and hide the pain just saying his name caused me.