Violets (Mikannie)

1 - Reborn

It wasn't until after I wrote this that I saw the connection to Gravity Falls. Oops, well, it is fanfiction. Also FYI; Amelie (Eren's reincarnation mum) is not Carla.

Alt title: I Overuse Italics.

Come to think of it, this is just a third prologue.
---

The first memory Mikasa Ackerman had of her past life was when she was seven years old. It was a dream she had. She couldn't remember the specifics, but she had woken up in a cold sweat. She walked down the hall and slept between her parents that night.

The dreams didn't start out frequent, or even memorable. When she was eleven she had her first vivid memory. It wasn't even a memory, really. Mostly just the feeling of fear and chaos, and a boy. His face was blurred, but Mikasa knew that he was important. He was her responsibility. Eren, her cousin perhaps?

Mikasa didn't know that the dreams were her memories until her twelfth birthday.

After lunch, the adults had told Mikasa and her cousin Eren to go somewhere else. Eren had been annoyed, because why aren't you telling any of the other cousins to go away?, and Aunt Amelie, his mother, had snapped and told him it was because the others are older and you're being a pain. Eren had started to shout that it's Mikasa's birthday, so why are you being like this, but Nanna had interjected and told them to go look in the attic, maybe you might find some relics in there. That would be fun, wouldn't it?

And so they did. Eren went straight to a box of old photos, but Mikasa was drawn to a spot by the window.

She had hidden something here, away where her son wouldn't accidentally stumble across it.

She shook the thought out of her head. She didn't have any kids. She was only twelve.

Subconsciously, Mikasa started to pick up old things and move them out of the way, until she found what she had been looking for. An old chest. Really old. It looked like it hadn't been opened in about a hundred and fifty years. With how old the house was - it had belonged to her very-great-grandmother - Mikasa wouldn't be surprised.

The latch on the chest was jammed. After some pulling, it broke off and Mikasa lost her balance, falling onto the ground with a puff of dust. Putting the broken latch aside, Mikasa dug through the contents of the chest.

On top, folded very gently, was a scarf. When Mikasa touched it, she was greeted by a warm feeling in her chest. Sentiment, or nostalgia perhaps. A reminder of when she was happy. She carefully put it aside, with the latch. It was old, and practically falling apart, and something told Mikasa that it was very special.

Under the scarf was a framed photo, a folder of loose-leaf drawings, an old military uniform, and three leather-bound journals. Each of the items stirred a different emotion in her: the uniform carried a sense of uncertainty and seriousness. Mikasa left it alone.

The photo, of a woman in her mid-thirties holding a tiny child, had warmth and love. It was old, and she guessed it was taken around the time the Titan war ended.

This was her baby.

The more logical part of her brain told her it was probably of her very-great grandmother, the war veteran and Mikasa's namesake. She put the photograph aside, not wanting to stare at it any longer.

The drawings were of random people. Mikasa felt a pang of Déjà Vu, as if she had known the subjects.

She did, they were her friends.

She put the folder with the other relics.

When Mikasa touched the journals, something non-abstract happened.

"I wrote it all down. All of it," the man sitting across from her said. They were sitting in the downstairs sunroom.

"Did you hear that?" Mikasa exclaimed.

"Hear what?" Eren said, surrounded by photographs.

Mikasa realised that she was the only one who had heard what had happened.

"Um, nothing. Probably just the wind," she lied. She turned back to the chest and pulled the top journal out. Without looking at the contents, she already knew what was in them.

The whole story, from beginning to end.

The story wasn't what she had been looking for, though. There was something else she needed in the first journal. Holding the book upright, Mikasa opened it to roughly the middle. Two worn envelopes fell out. Mikasa tucked them into her pocket.

"Hey! Check out what I found."

--

Mikasa ended up giving the chest and its contents to Nanna, with the exception of the two envelopes, which were hidden away safely in her pocket. Nanna had thanked her: apparently these were relics from the Titan War. The journals contained a memoir of the events.

"These are invaluable, Mikasa," Nanna said. "The amount of history in here, thought to be lost forever... It was a good idea to send you children up there."

She nodded in response, unsure of how to feel.

Later that night, after Mikasa's mum had driven them home and she had gone to bed, she took out the envelopes. One, she put aside. That was not meant for her. The second, she opened and read with a torch she had snuck under her covers.

In my life, I believed that one only fell in love once. I also did not believe in life after death.

I have been proven wrong both times.

Every day, I see how much my son, my beautiful son, resembles his namesake in looks and mannerisms. I do not believe it to be a coincidence. Once he woke up from a nightmare about things that happened long before his time; just this morning he called me by my first name. He does not know my first name.

And that leads to my second point. There was a girl, one whom I have found myself thinking of excessively of late. I want to see her again, but I fear that I shall not in this lifetime. If you are reading this, I need you to go to the coordinates written on the back of this letter and find her. Wait for her. Apologise for me.

If you are reading this, you'll know what to do and when to do it. Of course you will, because you are me.

Do more than I could.

On the back of the letter was a set of coordinates.

And that night, Mikasa Ackerman remembered her past life.