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Historia almost smiles, the rare sun reflecting on her face, and absentmindedly folds her arms on her belly.
There is no conscious thought that forms in Mikasa’s mind at the flashback, but something, subconsciously, makes her feel like she’s watching a train go off the rails. The greater good?
Sometimes she still sits on the back porch and wonders how it could be if Eren were there, and not off-to-conquer-Marley. She begins to find more and more cadets from the Military police in the damp-chilly-dark corridors crying and sharing their homesickness with each other when autumn strikes, but she is not like them, not really, and there is no home to go to when the training ends, and she’s been here before – the longing begins in the first rains of march, and still, drags into the lukewarm fall – and is it really love?
Akkerman still wonders how one single person could be this many days spent crying all her tears out, days that were the best ones in her life, so many lessons and so much faith in humanity, gained and lost;
and I wouldn’t dare call this love (she dared to do this, yes, but still, “you’re my family, Eren”), because after all that we've been through I am not sure I have the right.
I might.