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“A ball?” Hange squawks, incredulous as she whips her neck looking between Commander Keith Shadis and Section Commander Erwin Smith- possibly the two of the most serious men she’s ever met in her entire eighteen years of life. Erwin looks like he routinely sleeps in a three piece suit, existing solely to optimize battle and look impeccable while doing it. Shadis has an intimidating aura due in part to the bellow of his voice, and permanent frown. To this very day, she’s unsure if she’s ever seen him blink.
“Are we dispatching a titan there? In a manor, or…?” She scans between them as she talks, but neither of them offer her more than their usual flat looks, confirming that they were indeed not just the most serious men in the world, but the most unfun too. Hardly the ball type.
“Are you familiar with the Koch family?” Shadis finally asks. “The head of the family owns a prominent restaurant."
“No… I mean-” Having forgotten herself, her face blooms with embarrassment, and she salutes Shadis out of habit before continuing. “No. Sir!”
“No matter.” Shadis says, ignoring her belated formality. “The reason you were selected for this mission is precisely due to your heritage. As the sole daughter of the Zoe family, I’m sure you’re well adept at gallivanting with such important figures.”
This was beginning to sound like the most dull expedition of all time, not only that, but somehow just as horrifying as a hoard of abnormal titans. Hange can’t help the way her mouth falls open in immediate protest.
“S-sir! I’m not- I’m a scout now. You can’t-” Hange protests, her voice coming out squeaky and girlish, how she hates it to be. Her hands nervously run through her cropped hair, reminding her of who she is- who she chooses to be. “Right?“ She asks, hopeful for some reassurance that this was simply a joke played by two suddenly hilarious people. Worse, this request- however small, however important, feels like a denial of everything she worked so hard for. Everything she tried so hard to run away from in her life within the walls. They couldn’t ask this of her, surely.
Don’t they know her? Accept her as she is?
Despite her hopes, she’s met with only a silence that rings in her ears, and vague looks of disappointment.
At that, her nervous system kicks into overdrive, just as it was beyond the walls, when a smoke signal indicated a titan was near. The boom of the gun made her muscles instinctively go rigid, her knuckles white. In the absence of any real logic, her excuses come pouring out with every thundering heartbeat. No conviction in her voice, just blind fear.
“I’ve been publicly disowned. I have no ties to that world. If anything, my name would work against me… I’m not that girl anymore. I can’t-”
“You are.” Shadis commands, abruptly cutting off her ramblings to casually destroy her spirit. “And you will.”
The decision had been made far before she’d even been summoned. The realization makes her stomach drop, and with it goes any desire to humiliate herself further. The order coming from Shadis personally stung all the more. She’d admired him almost to the point of obsession just by bearing witness to his conviction, how seriously he took his role as a leader. Even if he’d verbally torn her to shreds upon first meeting, leaving her self esteem shorn on the dirt floor beneath her shaking boots, she saw something behind those cruel, unblinking eyes. That level of anger and observation didn’t come from a passive death wish- it came from the desire to be free. In those golden eyes she saw dedication- salvation. If anyone was going to save humanity, it would be him. That she got to be party to such a noble cause, to follow such a man, was simply another boon amongst her growing wealth from joining the Survey Corps.
Right now, those golden eyes only hold disdain for her. Her own water in response, making it impossible for her to look either men in the eye.
“Hange.” Erwin calls out, his low voice reassuring, though she’s sure what he’s about to say won’t be. “You don’t have to go it alone. I will be in attendance as well, along with some fellow soldiers. Our presence there is merely to foster goodwill from possible benefactors, and the continued patronage of Mr. Koch.”
Erwin continues, as if reading an accounting ledger. “This particular family has always supported us financially- something difficult to come by, especially in this era of peace. This is simply an appearance. It requires no more than a little song and dance, so to speak.”
A quartet of violins swell over the sound of a chattering crowd. The dance floor is made up of tipsy nobles dressed only in silk who cheer Hange on, not a person, not a soldier, but only entertainment. By the sixth song, or maybe the seventh dance- Hange is losing track, she feels very much like that little girl in ill fitting clothes again. Trussed up like a fattened pig to feast on, her youth is on full display, womanhood uncomfortably at the forefront. She’s caked in makeup singing folk songs with a quartet, weighed down by so much fabric that it’s a wonder she can move at all. All familiar too were the shoes that never failed to pinch her, as if to punish her for never quite fitting into the role she was born into.
‘Such big feet... You must have got that from your father. How can we dress you in anything nice?’
In the back of her mind, she can hear it so clearly, as if she were 8 years old again. Her mother droning on about everything wrong with her- from her wild hair to her curious personality, all the while she would tune the world out, focusing only on the croak of the frogs outside the window. That would earn her a flick on the wrist, and another lecture on the importance of how to hold a teacup properly.
Hange’s father, the son of a wealthy merchant family, had died shortly after her birth. As a widow who married into Hange’s father’s family, survival by means of perfection was her mother’s personal mantra. To be raised to be admired, no better than cattle. To be impeccable, and nothing less, because their survival depended on it. Thus became the walls by which Hange and her mother were caged.
Nowadays, survival means something completely different. Hange is more accustomed to boots, mud, and blood. Her nights no longer ended with pinched toes pulsing from pain, or the long, arduous ceremony of carefully removing and storing the dozens and dozens layers of stiff clothing she was forced to wear.
No more songs, if she had none to sing.
No more dances, if there was nothing to dance about.
The lack of music was now replaced by the all too common stillness of the ride back to the walls, where they knew they’d be met with an irate crowd of citizens, who after delivering no news but the ever constant death of their soldiers, no longer stood with the Scout Regiment.
On rarer occasions, nights were for drinking, and indulging, in an attempt to forget the constant loss of precious comrades, who also carried wishes and dreams of freeing humanity. Who would have killed for the chance for one more song, one more dance. Being warmed by mulled wine and soft music, while surrounded by the joyful exuberance of living in excess, should be better by comparison- if only for the fact that Hange knew she and her comrades were coming back home alive. It was a seldom won guarantee. Her colossal feet would ache by the end of the night- just a little, but they would survive.
No body parts to carry, no bloodied capes to deliver, no families to destroy.
“Fantastic! Fantastic!” Gerold Koch, head of the Koch family, restaurant owner, and mark of the evening, exclaims as he meets her beside the stage to get spittle all over her face. He clumsily places his hands on Hange’s bared shoulders and while doing so his overfilled glass sloshes, spilling some of the wine he spent all night bragging about.
“Thanks.” Hange coughs, turning her scowling face away from the overeager man, turning heel to find Erwin and her other comrades. She'd held up her end of the bargain- sang and danced at their command, so it was only fair that a swift exit would follow.
“A lovely voice you have.” An elegant woman gushes before breezing past Hange to rudely snap her fingers for more wine.
“Sing some more!” A drunk man calls out, blocking her path too, until he’s dragged away by a seething young woman.
“Thanks.” Hange deadpans as she keeps her eyes fixed forward, weaving through the drunken crowd. In a determined effort to route an escape, she speeds up her pace to scan the room for her comrades, trying to ignore the way Gerold drunkenly toddles behind her. Standing on her tiptoes, she looks for a group of poorly dressed soldiers, and finds, no surprise there- a sharply dressed Erwin.
“Beautiful voice.” Albert Eichner, Gerold’s much younger business partner, bellows as he approaches behind her. He effortlessly catches up to her hurried stride and walks shoulder to shoulder with her, making it impossible to ignore him.
“I’m out of practice these days.” Hange doesn’t spare him a glance, just keep her pace as she tries to find a decent vantage point. Shame that firing off a smoke signal would be such a faux pas.
Moments later, Gerold has miraculously caught up to them with a glazed over look in his eyes as he stares up at her. “If you’re out of practice, my dear, then I’m a fawn.”
Hange doesn't dare entertain him with even a glance, nearly breaks into a full sprint when she sees a glimpse of Simon’s unkempt red hair. He’s standing with their fellow soldiers Marlene, and Bradley. Erwin is nowhere to be found.
"Guys!” Hange calls out while she waves her arms frantically, silenced only by the boisterous crowd of drunks draped in satin and silver.
She spares a brief look back, sees that the older man simply goes in the opposite direction as she does, stepping over the maid who cleans the wine he’s trailing all over the floor with every clumsy step. She sighs in relief to have finally gotten him off her tail. The only benefit of having spent most of the ball performing was that she was too busy to have to make conversation.
Hange nearly trips over the maid cleaning up the trails of wine Gerold spilled everywhere. “Sorry.” She apologizes, uselessly, but the maid doesn’t even look up from her pressing duty of soaking up the drunkard’s mess. This likely wasn’t the first time a rich man thoughtlessly overdid the alcohol at a party. Hange finds her fists itching to connect with the older man's fat nose, but instead takes a goblet of wine from a passing waiter and rejoins her comrades.
“Erwin, where have you been hiding this one?” Gerold laughs boisterously, slapping him on the shoulder before he takes a long swig of wine.
Erwin laughs, sparing Hange a glance from where he stands several feet away. If the bastard was capable of pity, he’d keep Gerold occupied the whole night and let her forget this ever happened. Dozens of new books could also persuade her in the right direction.
“Pretty voice.” Marlene Adler- executive officer to the fourth squad and never one to say a single bad thing about anyone, raises her glass to Hange. “You’re so radiant tonight, Hange. Got any experience with this type of thing?”
Hange sticks out her tongue, frowning. It was fine to dress up for strangers who she would hopefully never encounter again, but her comrades seeing her decorated like a circus clown, gives her endless embarrassment.
“We are grateful to be in your company, Mr. Koch.” Erwin approaches the group with Gerold in tow and a wine bottle in hand, deftly refilling the much older man’s rapidly emptying goblet. “How is the restaurant in your wife’s absence?”
“Better.” Gerold beams, shooting a glance at Hange that makes her shudder. “I appreciate my freedom now and again.”
“That bread you serve…” An older male scout by the name of Simon Albach chimes in. He is Hange’s senior by many years, and is one of the few from Erwin’s graduating class. His tired eyes flutter closed, and then he makes a show of his pleased sigh. “Divine.”
“He hasn’t baked a loaf of bread in decades.” Albert declares as he finds everyone again, earning him laughs from the crowd, all except for Gerold. “Are you all enjoying yourselves?”
“We are.” Erwin affirms as looks to his fellow scouts, though he’s sticking to a script. It helps that he looked like he was going to play the leading man in a play. Despite the modest funding the Survey Corps had for “expeditions” such as these, the two piece navy blue suit he wore appeared to be tailored, and flattering.
By contrast, Gerold wears an ill fitting suit, likely due to his odd proportions- narrow shoulders, a broad chest, and the absence of anything resembling muscle anywhere on his body. The strange amalgamation of his body makes his suit jacket look like a child playing at dress up, rather than a highly esteemed business entrepreneur. Like a predator hunting vulnerable prey, Gerold meets her scrutinizing eyes. She takes a nervous sip of her wine, trying to hide her all encompassing disgust for him.
“You have a lovely manor.” Marlene gushes, pushing herself between Gerold and Hange just so, bowing her head all the while. “Thank you for thinking of the Scout Regiment. Did we mention Commander Shadis sends his regards?”
Gerold ignores her completely, turns his full attention to Hange. “Did you know about my restaurant, love? It’s a fine establishment. Miles better than the-” Gerold turns back to Erwin and the others, who look on with tight smiles and white knuckles around their goblets. “Erwin, ah, what is it that soldiers eat nowadays?”
“Run of the mill rations, usually.” Erwin states, drawing closer to Hange. “Same as ever.”
“Does just fine in a pinch.” Simon agrees. As he draws closer to Hange too, he taps Bradley Adler- the last of the scouts who joined Hange for this visit.
“Hm?” Bradley asks, distracted as he pours himself what had to be his third or fourth cup of wine. “Yeah. Great wine!”
Marlene shoots him an unsubtle look.
Hange smiles politely, taking the slightest step back from Gerold, so that she at least wouldn’t continue to inhale the alcohol on his breath. “I’m partial to beer, myself.” She lies through her teeth, the desire to be contrary is something she is too stubborn to suppress right now. All the thinly veiled venom she has is what she swallows down with each sip of mediocre wine.
“That won’t do.” Gerold chides, refilling her already near full cup. “A pretty little thing like you should-”
“Hange has an incredible mind.” Erwin states, tone shifting from cordial to commanding. He sounds like himself again. When he steps forward he moves his goblet closer, urging the drunk man to refill his cup. “Her mind is as sharp as her battle acuity.”
“Eh, Hange. Didn’t cha-” Bradley starts, but then he prioritizes downing his drink like a man dying of thirst. Wine dribbles down his chin, which he belatedly catches on his ill fitting shirt sleeve, staining it pink. “Didn’t ya take down a titan all by your ownself last week?”
“I did!” Hange chirps, feeling like herself again at the reminder of the soldier she is. She meets the eyes of her comrades around her- all within arm’s reach, no matter how unimpressive the threat before them. “With some help, of course.”
“I’ve no idea how you all manage to do it.” Gerold slurs, head hung in disbelief. “I very much enjoy keeping my head connected to my body.”
“That’s fair.” Erwin agrees.
“Us too.” Simon cuts in. “You can leave the beheadings to us, sir.”
Hange laughs along with everyone else. Her face hurts just a bit, from the strain of keeping such a placid smile on her face, but this particular performance is that much more tolerable as a troupe, rather than solo. She feels warmed, and not just by the wine.
“I wonder though…” Albert ponders aloud as the laughter dies down and the drinks run dry, “Why become a scout then, Ms. Zoe? You’ve plenty of talent on the stage. In fact, I see it as quite a shame that you’ve made your voice so scarce. I don’t suppose titans enjoy song very much.”
“Why would anyone be a scout?” Bradley chuckles, shamelessly smacking the bottom of the wine bottle to get every last drop. Simon snatches it from him while Marlene takes the opportunity to steal away Bradley’s cup.
“To me, it’s old hat.” Hange admits, her curated past forcing a sigh to escape her painted lips. “The whole of Stohess looks the same from inside the four walls of a mansion.”
It was true that many types of performances didn’t require a stage or meticulous costumes at all. The act of singing, or dancing? Hange never minded the actual act. She enjoyed it, even. She feels just as adept and comfortable on a stage, by a piano, as she does in the ruinous Titan forest, standing atop a branch thicker than her entire torso while waiting to strike down a titan.
Likewise, it was second nature to know where to insert an improvised trill, a well timed twirl, or how best to have a pleasant conversation without saying anything of value whatsoever. Just as titans had their weak points, so did the boring men and women in the upper echelons of high society. It didn’t matter where you went, or where you came from, they were all the same after a couple of drinks. Had Hange not joined the Survey Corps, she likely would have ended up performing in some capacity. It was in her nature, to some extent. Whether it was on a theater stage or the piano in her childhood home, she would have shined. It would have all been terribly boring, yes, but it was what she was born to do, raised to do.
Nevertheless, it wasn’t her. Those too small, satin shoes would never fit.
It was an act, like any other. Backed by natural talent, constant practice, and the constant need to appease her mother- sure, but an act nonetheless.
The performance of Hange Zoe, daughter to Edith Zoe, who had no social capital beyond a little girl adorned in frills and gifted with a knack for singing. As the only daughter to an only son, Hange was her mother’s tether to not only wealth, but the high society her mother wished so desperately to stay a part of.
Was it still a prison if you locked the door yourself?
Across the room, there’s a severe woman whose stern eyes meet hers. It’s only a brief moment that immediately puts Hange back in her mother’s poor graces. Just as quickly, the woman’s eyes light up when she reunites with what must be her friends.
Marlene nudges her gently, gestures to the door.
Perhaps not the battlefield she anticipated, but the scouts need her just as much. For that reason, she could, and would, withstand anything so long as it served a benefit to humanity. This act may be soul sucking, but it served a purpose beyond simply securing more for people who had never wanted for nothing. And so, if this was another battlefield wherein she would be fighting to protect her comrades, then so be it. Her mind and body would be a living weapon for as long as she could endure.
Hange remembers herself, smiles brightly, even if hollow. “Do you see there?” She begins animatedly pointing at the walls surrounding them. “Wall Sina, Wall Rose, Wall Gerold….”
She earns a few laughs, allows herself a private grin behind the rim of her goblet.
“You prefer the freedom of the outside.” Albert observes. “Despite the danger it poses. A bit of a romantic, aren't you?”
A waiter brings by another round of glasses filled with a new, but similar tasting wine that Gerold would surely spend hours boasting about. Both him and Bradley nearly knock over the entire tray as they drunkenly try to pick up their drinks at the same time.
“To humanity.” Hange toasts, beaming as everyone raises their glasses and repeats the same- each with their own dream.
“These damn feet…” Hange grumbles, huffing with every step as she walks barefoot on the road. “I need my ODM gear.”
Erwin breathes through his nose, laughing slightly. His arm is linked with hers, keeping a steady pace so they would get home before the main gate closed. Tall as he is, he has to crouch just slightly to adjust to her height.
“Shall I carry you?” Erwin asks, genuinely concerned. He already has her heels in his free hand, so she definitely couldn’t ask him to carry her too. It does sound a bit fun though, if only because of how deeply unromantic he seems to be. She imagines herself as a sack of potatoes hoisted up on his shoulder.
“Nope!” Hange cheerfully replies, while laughing at her private joke. “Ow.”
Erwin seems to adjust his walking pace, taking smaller strides to stay at her slower pace.
“Still, even if it wasn’t the ideal circumstance…” Erwin says after a long moment. “Gerold was pleased. Some sponsors only require the slightest tending to. And you do have a lovely voice, Hange. I would say it went rather well, wouldn’t you agree?”
Hange erupts in a laughing fit, doubling over immediately. Her cackling earns them some looks from shopkeepers closing up, and street cleaners who make all attempts to avert eye contact with someone seemingly crazed. She tightens her hold around his arm to keep from falling over.
Only in the danger of titan filled territory, with death looming at every split second of hesitation, could Hange find a life of her own. That was why she joined the military, chopped her hair short, wore her glasses with pride, and never thought twice about how someone who react to her long winded ranting. Through no fault of their own, the materialistic, greedy- small, endlessly small world she tried to escape had infected every corner of the new world she embraced. If she had any questions, there was an answer. And the answer was that everyone, everywhere was the same. From even beyond the walls. It is simply the reality.
Everyone was playing someone else’s game. Even the Scout Regiment.
To find that her newfound family would ask for the exact same- a note for note performance… It was an extremely unfunny joke. Ridiculous. Rude, even. So fucking funny that the muscles in her abdomen ache like her first week in the Cadet Corps.
“Yeah. It did.” Her free hand clutches her stomach, but now it feels like there’s a heavy stone there. She tries to lighten up, offers a small smile to Erwin, who looks at her with an inscrutable look. “Great assist there too. It wouldn’t have gone as well if you all hadn’t stepped in when you did.”
“Politics are a battlefield like any other.” Erwin states, he turns away from her and looks up to the sky with the barest hint of a smile. “We couldn’t have done this without you, Hange.”
“Is that right?” Hange chuckles breezily, adjusting her glasses as she tries to straighten out despite her sore midsection.
The streets are quiet, save for the idle chatter of military police who unsubtly watch them out of the corner of their eyes, and some garrison soldiers drunkenly singing.
“Oh, ho, the mistletoe!” A stout man shouts, offkey and loud, which earns him boisterous laughs from his fellow soldiers. Hange looks at them for a brief moment, before returning to her third pity party of the evening.
“Not that it matters, but my mother would have been furious if she saw me tonight.” Hange laughs hollowly. It’s followed by a long pause, where the only sounds that punctuate the silence is the distant sound of drunken garrison soldiers being reprimanded by military police, and the tapping of horseshoes on cobblestones.
“Hey, Erwin.” Hange asks, tone flat as she looks dead ahead, not even sparing her superior a glance. “What was your mother like?”
“My mother died shortly after I was born.” Erwin states, as though reading a financial proposal out loud. He was matter of fact about death in general, something she respected, but also had difficulty understanding. Maybe he’d seen enough death by now, that he had to detach himself from it entirely. She imagines she'd get there if she lives long enough to see what he has.
“I see.” Hange looks up at him with her eyebrows furrowed, eyes shining, but as her mind wanders to the comparable few that she’s lost in battle, she understands his reasoning. Maybe she and Erwin shared something after all. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Erwin softly asks, uncharacteristically gentle. He doesn’t wait for her to answer before he continues, voice still soft. “I’m told that she was a warm person. My father spoke fondly of her to anyone who asked. He never married another.”
“That’s sweet.” Hange comments, before remembering herself. “Ah, but you said before that your father passed too, right? When you were a boy?”
“Correct. I’m by all accounts an orphan. My father died only a year or so before my enlistment. Though, I do have an uncle who briefly took me in before I left. My mother’s brother.”
“They were alright with you enlisting?” Hange can’t hide her surprise. Her own decision to enlist got her publicly disowned. Even though she had gone into it with her eyes wide open, the intensity of her mother’s outrage had come as a shock at the time.
“That’s right. But your family was opposed to your enlistment, if I remember correctly.” Erwin recalls.
Hange nods, searching his face, finding nothing but sky blue eyes that stare straight ahead.
“I was 12 years old at the time. If they felt that way… I wouldn’t be able to speak on their behalf, that’s all.” Their shared walking pace is now a snail’s pace, and Hange falls silent in the face of his reality.
“Ultimately, they allowed me to go my own way. I'm grateful for it.” Erwin continues, eyes fixed on something Hange can’t see.
Inside the Survey Corps, there were many with tragic stories. Hange recalls that Simon is an only child, who makes it a point to visit his ailing parents every time he returns safely to Trost. Marlene was a veteran as well, who was generous with her kindness and welcomed new recruits with open arms and a motherly regard, despite the fact that many of the young faces she smiled at were often gone within the month. Bradley was a newer recruit who compulsively drank- too much, too often- but even Commander Shadis let it go without comment, as he’d narrowly survived a string of horrific missions that even veteran soldiers could hardly stomach.
There they were, fighting silent, internal battles as they faced off against the biggest threat to humanity- day in and day out.
And yet, here she is. Nothing more than a rich brat masquerading as a hero, propped on the shoulders of bruised and broken hearts of those who wordlessly stood by her, despite the horrors they endured- the unimaginable losses that plagued them with every encounter they survived, as if to say that life was no gift. No gift at all.
‘To humanity.’ Her toast echoes in her head, seeming just as vapid as the nobles that swarmed her the entire evening. She remembers the look of concern on her comrades faces throughout the night, confirming that she was mired in visible self pity, despite having an easy mark and a supportive team by her side. Selfishly and childishly, she’d made the decision to pout- her sheer stubbornness nearly ruining an opportunity to benefit all of humanity, simply because it wasn’t on her terms that she got to play pretend.
Maybe… she can’t be anything for anyone. Maybe it was all pretend. And maybe she wasn't the only one pretending.
“I suppose…“ Erwin starts, but he trails off and smiles oddly, as though to stop himself from speaking further. She catches it, but looks away, wanting him to continue speaking. “I felt as though I was a burden to my uncle. He was a farmer, with many mouths to feed already. I offered a hand, but didn’t know the first thing about working on a farm. Even so, I was never made to feel unwelcome.”
“You…?” Hange asks, speaking slowly as she pieces the fragments of his childhood together. She simply can’t imagine him out in a field, with dirtied knees. “A farmer?”
“Only in name.” Erwin chuckles, the sound light. He pauses long enough for her to regret saying anything, but before she can ruin the moment again with a stupid question, he continues, voice small. “Perhaps of my own accord… or, to spare myself the pain of feeling that I didn’t belong at their table. I’d decided that simply being my mother’s son wasn’t enough to justify my presence in their home.”
Their home. Hange makes a noise of acknowledgement, unsure of what to say. She wants to say that she understands. That she, too, felt unwanted and unloved. That the scouts gave her the unconditional warm regard she always chased, and that it was worth it, even if it meant teetering on the tightrope of life and death at every corner.
But, she doesn’t say any of that. She can only sigh, and hold onto him a little tighter. Taking, receiving. She couldn’t offer him anything, not when she didn’t have any answers. No answers to anything.
“You were too young to think that.” Hange finally offers, feeling immediately childish to bring up age to someone so much older and wiser than she was. But, it was the truth. He had been a lonely child too, just like her.
Her head comes to rest on his upper arm as they walk. She feels boneless, held upright only by Erwin’s strong arm. She’s too tired to second guess being so casual with her superior in public, or to mind her words with him. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t say it.
“Erwin?” Hange questions, staring at what feels like an endless road in front of them, illuminating blue only by the twilight in the shared sky above them. “Is it out there?”
“That place…” Hange muses, too tired to be embarrassed. Maybe it was stupid, or naïve to feel as though belonging was a place. Maybe it was a person. Or a dream. Whatever it looks like, she wonders if he has a better answer than she does. “Where do you think it is, Erwin?”
Erwin pauses and makes a thoughtful noise, tugging her a bit closer, like he understands. Like he too still worries about belonging. That someone like him could still have such a childish fear was… it was impossible, wishful thinking.
It’s then that the distant sight of the mess hall starting to fill up for dinner comes into view. Unwilling to let go just yet, Hange’s pace instinctively slows to a near crawl.
“I think-” Erwin’s pace slows down right along with her, to a near stop. When Hange looks up at him, she sees his lips tug upwards, but his smile is weighed down by an implacable grief that pulls at her own rabbit heart. Yet, it’s the most genuine expression she’s ever seen on him. Boyish, timid, yearning for something neither of them could ever get back. Grateful, somehow. “We’re already here, Hange.”
An only son with no place at the table, and an only daughter with shoes that never quite fit. He smiles at her like he sees her. Finds her.
At least for now- on this road, in this world, it’s just the two of them. She moves a hair’s width closer to him and offers up her own knowing smile, also weighed down by her own implacable grief. Arm in arm, they leisurely walk back to the barracks in a peaceful silence, dinner long since gone cold.