Right now, everything else seemed more urgent than Eren being swallowed by a Titan.
While countless humans were being butchered and eaten, no one cared what was happening to a young man named "Eren," and no one saw the red-scarfed girl who went mad and sprinted toward him.
Unfortunately, no matter how you put it, she was still a step too late.
Eren had already been swallowed into the Titan's body.
When Mikasa arrived, she saw only a single arm of Eren's, bitten off.
Even surrounded by Titans— even swallowed by one—he hadn't yielded; he had still been fighting them bravely.
That severed arm was the proof.
From between the Titan's teeth, from the corner of its mouth, Eren's arm slipped free, spinning in the air like the limb of a puppet, lifeless and rigid.
Mikasa rushed forward, caught it, and laid it gently in her arms.
Despair crushed her.
Though Eren's arm was still warm, she knew it would soon cool, then turn cold—more like the limb of a dummy than Eren's hand.
Clutching that arm torn from its body, Mikasa felt her chest burn and smother, as if held to a furnace; she couldn't breathe.
Her nose stung; tears brimmed and spilled without her noticing.
In a haze, Mikasa recalled the days she'd spent with Eren.
They'd been young then, but happy every day.
Armin, though often bullied for speaking the truth, would always have them at his side—she and Eren would stand up for him, get even for him.
Once, after they'd thrashed a bunch of arrogant brats, they'd sprinted up a rise together.
Behind them lay all the trouble they'd stirred up.
Uncle Hannes of the Garrison Regiment never made things hard for them; he owed a debt to Eren's father—Eren's father had cured the plague on their street, healed Hannes's wife, and spared them a family torn apart by death.
So now, even if the kids were rowdy in the street—too carefree, unruly—at least they meant no harm.
Hannes knew that well.
He had watched Eren grow up. How could a boy with such a strong sense of justice be hiding ill intent or up to something deserving a beating?
So when others tried to make trouble for the three of them, Hannes would amble over—seemingly by chance—and help.
Not by helping anyone scold Eren, but by keeping the pursuing adults from taking even one more step.
But even Hannes, a man like that—died.
During the operation against the one-hundred-meter-class Titan, Hannes, as a Garrison soldier, to atone for the wrong he'd done Eren, to atone for his earlier cowardice, volunteered for a mission. He charged alone at the hundred-meter Titan and planted explosives at its feet.
Though those explosives ultimately didn't have the effect they should have, they at least managed to halt the Titan's advance, giving more humans time to flee.
When Eren heard that grim news, his hatred for the Titans only deepened.
Mikasa still remembered: back then Eren couldn't even eat. Every mention of Hannes threw him into sorrow.
Now tragedy had come full circle. Eren, too, had been swallowed by a Titan.
Like the veterans of the Survey Corps, he had found his grave in a Titan's belly.
Mikasa couldn't accept it. She could not accept Eren's parting.
She still remembered how Eren had urged her on, saved her, told her to get up and fight.
And now Eren could fight no more.
He had vanished in the midst of battle, his resolve erased.
But—
His fighting spirit was still alive.
Cradling Eren's arm, Mikasa was ready to inherit his will and rise to fight again.
Just then—as if Eren's will had manifested—a hand burst forth, tearing open the Titan that had swallowed him.
Mikasa had been on the brink of being surrounded, about to be devoured as Eren had been.
And because of that hand, a Titan leapt into the fray.
For reasons unknown, it swung its fists at the other Titans.
Powerful blows smashed into their faces, blasting heads free to somersault through the air before thumping down and splashing blood.
With thunderous strikes, that Titan seemed provoked, suddenly attacking the other Titans—and fighting harder the longer it went. Each punch was vicious; the style was wild, without any semblance of form, yet every blow targeted a vital spot.
Though a Titan's weak point lies at the nape, this Titan's fists hammered skulls and the bridge of the nose.
And not only that—after punching a head away, it would brutalize the fallen bodies on the ground.
It stomped their napes, leaving them no chance to revive.
"An… Abnormal?"
At first, Mikasa didn't connect this Titan to "Eren."
But as she watched more closely, the Titan Roger had transformed into drew her attention in the distance.
Then, looking back at this Titan's behavior, everything made awful sense.
"Could Eren transform into a Titan too?"
Mikasa stared blankly at the Abnormal.
Because she had lived beside Eren for so long, the more she watched, the more she saw him in this Titan—movements like his, at points identical.
"Eren?!"
She cried out.
The Titan paid her no mind. Its eyes held only the other Titans. It wanted nothing but to fight them—even at the cost of its own body.
One after another, it threw itself at every Titan it saw.
But soon its stamina faltered; the wounds it'd taken stopped recovering.
Even so, it didn't yield. It roared toward the front and kept fighting on with unbending resolve!
"Rrraaaah!!"
A Titan's roar.
The Abnormal's bellow overlapped with the roar of Roger's Jaw Titan.
Together, they lunged forward!
Pouring every last ounce of strength into the charge!
Even entangled by multiple Titans, they refused to yield!
Fight! (Tatakae!)
Fight!!
Fight!!!
//Check out my P@tre0n for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810.