Chapter Text
It was a chaotic morning.
Although it was after eight o'clock, not a single ray of sunlight hit the surface of the cloudy city of Shiganshina. The sky threatened to collapse in thick raindrops, unusual for the time of year, it was almost spring. And it was in this same sky that Mikasa's equally cloudy eyes were fixed.
Inside the car, in a sepulchral silence, she had remained since leaving her home, accompanied by her grandmother, Kiyomi. Nothing seemed to alter her tacit state. No emotion seemed to strike the face untouched by any trace of feeling, a countenance where there had long been no life. This is how she looked visually.
But she felt so much, in so many ways and in so many intensities, that internally she could almost feel that her organs were going to explode and kill her from the excessive emotional burden.
How could a simple trip end that way? Why?
She was used to the bitter taste of life, but every time something bad happened, she swore she couldn't take another disappointment, another loss, or another scar. And every time she was forced to endure it, because what other choice did she have?
Somehow, everything was always taken away from her, without her being able to do anything about it. Powerless, weak and hopeless. That's how she felt. And yet no tears streamed from her makeup-covered eyes.
So there she was, wearing a black dress with a tight corset, the same color as her shoes, with black satin gloves. And so were her hair and eyes. Anyone who laid eyes on her would embrace death.
Although a previously unimaginable scenario was taking place, she could only stare at the sky, framed by the small window of the transport, while her grandmother seemed increasingly irritated by her granddaughter's impassive expression.
“Did you even realize the situation we are in? You should be desperate, or even questioning what you will do from now on.”
She was asking herself this, internally, many questions that remained unanswered in her core.
Her heart could stop now, because she wouldn't care, in fact, she thought it could be her in his place.
"I know it very well,” murmured.
"It doesn't look like you know. Oh goddess, I already have a headache… I need to resolve this problem soon."
Problem.
Jean's death was a problem for Kiyomi, one she had to solve and by that, Mikasa knew very well what she meant.
Her fiancé was dead, Mikasa was single again, the one who would be the Ackerman's salvation was no longer breathing. And by 'salvation', don't think it was some kind of appreciation, it's just opportunism and cheap interest.
What was she going to do? What?
It was inevitable to look for other ways out, but which ones? She would have to leave everything in her grandmother's hands, as always without having her wishes taken into consideration.
Because Kiyomi was like that, she treated people as bridges between her goals. Mikasa was the one who had to tolerate this for years, that she had grown accustomed to being just a commodity in her grandmother's eyes.
The vehicle stopped, and the driver's voice was heard as he informed them that they had arrived at their destination.
Kiyomi warned right before getting down the car. “Just stay silent, I will talk if it's necessary.”
Like a doll that could have no voice or will of her own, Mikasa kept up with her, maintaining her posture as best she could in those uncomfortable heels.
The chapel where the wake would take place was decorated with vases of white flowers, a long black carpet stretched from the beginning of the stairs into the sacred place.
Somehow Mikasa always ended up in places she didn't like to be, churches were one of those.
The girl sighed heavily before entering. Finding within herself, remnants of strength she didn't even know she had, to face yet another moment of tension and loss.
As soon as the two presences were noticed, silent gazes were fixed on them. Several people sat on the wood-paneled benches in complete stillness, just looking at the ladies who had just arrived. Mikasa looked around for any familiar faces, but the only one she could find was Jean's father, which was not a good sign, but he would obviously be there, regardless of the fact that he didn't have a good relationship with his son. With each step, she felt her legs going weak, her throat closing up, her heartbeat quickening, each time she got closer to where the coffin was. Some whispering could now be heard, and she simply knew it was comments about her. Why couldn't they just shut up?
Then, the two women were facing Jean's father, Mikasa seemed to have gone into shock once again since the news.
“Milord, me and my granddaughter are very sorry for your loss,” Kiyomi said, sounding very sad.
In fact, she was sorry for the missed opportunity, but nothing that was new to Mikasa.
“If you have come to see him, do it soon,” this was the only thing that came out of his lips, words that he directed to Mikasa, who was feeling so cold, even inside her.
The anguished girl said nothing, only approached the coffin with slow, careful steps, as if she could wake the body from a deep sleep. Obviously, this was not possible. And she was sorry. Really sorry, not like Kiyomi.
Her dry lips were trembling, as was her hand, which fearfully pulled back the black veil that covered the face of the deceased.
Then she saw it. Clearly. The face so familiar, once so vivacious, now held only traces of death and agony.
Dead. He was dead, before her eyes.
And there was nowhere else to run, suddenly everything around her seemed to fade away, in a distant echo, resonating more and more slowly until all that was left was the corpse she faced.
There was no longer any doubt about the veracity of the facts, they were proven. Jean was murdered.
A few bruises spread across his facial skin, his beard grew, his hair in the same style, and his eyes closed, forever.
She wanted to stop looking, but still couldn't, she was static.
Should she cry? Because she didn't feel like it.
Was it wrong to wonder about that? About how she should react? The answer should be obvious, he was her fiancé, they were getting married, in two months, she should cry, she should feel groundless. But she couldn't, because she had always been used to the idea of helplessness, after all, this feeling was an old companion that always came back to visit her.
“What is this woman doing here?!” an outcry reached Mikasa's ears, which brought her out of the inertia she had been in for seconds, or minutes, she didn't know...
It was Jean's mother, infuriated by Ackerman's mere presence. It was well known to Mikasa that the Kirstein family, with the exception of her fiancé, did not like her.
The reason was clear, they saw something Jean didn't, the interest in the fortune he was entitled to. It wasn't Mikasa's fault, as she didn't give a damn about his money, but that wasn't the same thought as Kiyomi.
Of course, to Ma’am Kirstein it made no difference, both granddaughter and grandmother, to her, were profiteers, opportunists of the vilest kind and those who interrupted the brilliant marriage that her beloved son would have with a girl of good family and of the same standard as him. So, yes, she hated them both, but Mikasa more intensely because she was the target of Jean's blind love.
“Ma’am…” the young woman greeted, with a serious face, feeling that something bad was coming. Again.
The few people present were attentive to the next dialogue, between the mother and the bride. Mr. Kirstein, already anticipating that his wife would have a stroke, massaged his own temple, tired.
“How dare you show your face here? Your disrespect knows no bounds? Not even on my son's deathbed will I have the right to have peace?” the woman said, getting closer, her eyes perforating Mikasa’s.
“Please, Milady, we came because it’s a wish of Mikasa to see her fiancé for one last ti—”
“I haven't spoken to you, don't you dare interrupt me,” Kirstein Matriarch cut Kiyomi's words off, not even casting a glance at her.
Miss Azumabito was extremely cautious with her words to those who had a higher title, like a good and obedient servant, who did not want to irritate her objects of fortune. Then she just shut up.
“I’m sorry, I really am, Milady,” Mikasa spoke, trying to find the right sentences to say, and not to cause even more harm.
“After you came into my son's life, all I saw was his happiness and pride running out, and yet he was never able to see that someone like you would never be suitable for him. A bitch who literally ruined everything he could be. And now my dear Jean is dead. Nothing can undo that, not your excuses, not your miserable need to prove that you are sorry. You and your damn family can go straight to hell. I thank Goddess that I won't have the displeasure of seeing you married to him! You are a disgrace!”
The harsh words were spat out, with hatred and palpable contempt. Mikasa's heart almost stopped, feeling humiliated in front of all those people. The murmurs of those witnessing the scene became more heated. The intrigue between the two families becoming clear.
"That... It's not my fault..." Mikasa murmured, low, her eyes shying away from any eye contact, she wanted to disappear, she felt helpless. She was being belittled, reduced to a woman seeking money and a good life.
That was unfair, she was not like that, and the fact that the only person who would defend her from these accusations was about to be buried, made her feel lonely.
“It’s! It’s your fault, you ruined his life!” Lady Kirstein shouted.
Why did she have to hear that? Why did she have to become responsible for something she never wanted or planned?
She wanted to cry, but she wouldn't do that in front of that woman, nor did she want to argue. She didn't even want to attend that funeral, but because of her connection to the family — which obviously ended there — she was forced to by Kiyomi, and all for what? To be treated like trash.
Maybe, that's what she was. A trash, disposable and worthless.
“I want you out of here, quick! You will not ruin anything else that has to do with this family! Never again!”
“Dear, please, control yourself, you’re in a church,” Lord Kirstein warned, tired from the ridiculous scene he was seeing.
“Get these women out of here, now!” she ignored, continuing to scream like a crazy, leaving the two figures embarrassed by public humiliation.
“It’s better you go away, I have enough problems to solve, I don't need another scandal.” The Patriarch warned, frowning in irritation, wishing he could get rid of the two women so that his own wouldn't make a scandal. “Go, before the ceremony begins, I would like to maintain respect in this sacred place.”
Kiyomi hurried to say a positive affirmation. “Okay, we are going, sorry for the inconvenience, Your Grace. Let’s go Mikasa.”
The older woman pulled the girl by the arm, with exaggerated force, almost causing her to trip. The gazes burned into their silhouettes and nothing could measure the shame Kiyomi felt, she hadn't expected Madam Kirstein to be so rude, she knew she didn't like Mikasa, but to the point of causing a scene of degradation in front of even relatives and close friends, she couldn't foresee it. She thought that being in public she would restrain herself, but the exact opposite happened. Apparently decorum was not as important as emphasizing her disgust for Mikasa Ackerman.
Head bowed, eyes holding back burning tears, soul broken and yet another burden laid upon her, this time the death of her own fiancé. Of course, she had nothing to do with what had happened, but would the people who were present there think the same? It wouldn't be long before the gossip about what had happened began to spread like wildfire.
And she would have to bear it all quietly, lock all her grief and sorrow inside her own heart, and learn to live with yet another emotional scar. With one more disappointment. In fact, could she feel disappointed? Was this bad? She was lost in the vortex of feelings that took over her chest, so lost that she didn't even feel her grandmother's strong grip on her arm as they hurriedly left the place after barely fifteen minutes inside.
Did she have to feel terrible? Because at that moment, while without any dignity, she walked back to the car, she deeply hated everything she was going through. She hated her grandmother, Lady Kirstein, she hated Jean, and she hated her own life.
Yes, she was used to losses, but it never got easier, it was like opening a wound that had already healed. And she had so many losses, she could hardly remember what it was like to have something.
As she got into the vehicle, she could do nothing but stand still, staring at her own hands in her lap.
She hated wanting to take upon herself a fault that wasn't hers, but Mikasa was like a blank canvas, whatever was deposited on her surface was forever stained. And she was completely stained with bad things. She wished that someone would at some point erase every stain from her being, and then paint her with good things, bright colors, carrying away all her burdens.
However, maybe this was much more than she really deserved, maybe she should accept never receiving anything.
After all, she had nothing to give either.