Two for the world

The forest was quiet, but it felt different now—haunted, as if each shadow and whisper in the trees carried echoes of what they'd just endured. Alaric led the way, his grip firm but gentle around Mikasa's hand. The chill of the night was closing in, and their footsteps were soft against the damp earth. Each step seemed to carry them farther from the horrors they'd left behind, yet Alaric could feel a weight pressing on him, growing heavier with each passing moment.

He glanced over at Mikasa, her face blank, eyes cast downward, her expression distant, as if lost somewhere far beyond the silent woods around them. Her small hand was tightly wrapped around his, her fingers curling into his with a desperation that matched his own. Alaric swallowed hard, clenching his jaw to keep his emotions in check.

"I…I know it hurts, Mikasa," he began softly, not even sure where to start. "And I wish I could take all this away from you."

Her grip tightened in response, though she said nothing, her gaze still averted. He could feel her trembling slightly, and a pang of guilt tore through him, settling deep in his chest like a wound that wouldn't heal.

"I know I wasn't there soon enough," he said, voice catching, the words dragging out like shards of glass. "If I had been faster—stronger—maybe…" He couldn't bring himself to finish, the shame and regret eating away at him.

Mikasa's head lifted, her dark eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment. There was something unreadable in her gaze, a flicker of vulnerability and confusion mixed with something else—a silent plea for comfort that she couldn't put into words.

After a few steps, she finally whispered, "It's not your fault." Her voice was soft, barely audible, yet each word carried a fragile strength.

Alaric exhaled a shaky breath, nodding, though the self-blame gnawed at him mercilessly. "Thank you, but… I still feel like I failed." His grip on her hand tightened, a silent promise he knew he would keep. "But I swear to you, Mikasa… I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I'll protect you. With everything I have."

The vow felt like it was etched into his soul, a solemn promise he made not only to her but to the family he had failed to save. In his mind, he could see Yuuta and Kurumi's faces—faces that would never again light up with warmth, that he'd failed to protect. His chest tightened painfully, but he steeled himself, pushing down the grief with a resolve that hardened his features.

"I owe them that much," he murmured, almost to himself. "They loved you more than anything, Mikasa. And now…now it's my turn to protect what they left behind."

He could feel the weight of his words settling over them both, an unspoken bond weaving tighter around them. Mikasa's gaze drifted down, her fingers still holding onto his hand, as if drawing strength from his touch. She didn't know what to say, but there was a fierce determination flickering beneath her grief, something that mirrored Alaric's own resolve.

Mikasa:

Mikasa's mind was a swirling storm of confusion and pain. Everything felt fragmented, broken pieces of memories that cut and burned with each recollection. She could still see them—her parents, her home, every gentle moment now frozen in her mind like shards of glass. And through it all, she struggled, searching for someone to blame, something that would make sense of this chaos.

In her heart, for just a fleeting moment, she had thought about blaming Alaric. It was foolish, she knew that. But the hurt demanded an answer, something, anything she could direct it toward. He had come for her, fought for her, saved her when she had no one else left to turn to. How could she have thought that? She felt a pang of shame twist in her chest as the realization set in.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, so quietly it was barely a sound, more a breath.

Alaric glanced down, confusion flickering in his eyes. "For what?"

She hesitated, her voice trembling. "For… for almost blaming you." Her face flushed, her shame nearly unbearable. "I know it's not fair. I just… I didn't know what to do with all of it—the pain."

He gave her hand a comforting squeeze, a faint, understanding smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You don't have to apologize for that. We're both carrying too much, Mikasa. It's okay."

The softness in his voice wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and for the first time, she felt a sliver of solace amidst the darkness.

Alaric's expression grew somber again, his voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity. "I know this sounds impossible, but we'll find a way through this, together. No matter what happens, I'll be here."

Mikasa nodded, her resolve strengthening, a determination blooming in the wake of her grief. In that moment, she knew she couldn't let him carry this burden alone. She would protect him too, no matter the cost, with every ounce of strength she could muster. Her hand tightened around his, and she looked up at him, her eyes fierce and unyielding.

"Then we protect each other," she said firmly, her voice steady, conviction burning in her gaze. "I'll always have your back, Alaric. No matter what."

A quiet silence fell between them, but it was a silence filled with understanding, with unspoken promises that ran deeper than words. They were bound by more than blood, more than fate. In the absence of everything else, they had each other, and that was something they would hold onto, even if the world itself fell apart.

As they continued their journey through the forest, Alaric glanced up at the stars, their cold light casting faint glimmers through the trees. The world had changed, fractured into a harsh and unforgiving place, but under that endless sky, he felt a flicker of hope—a fragile, delicate thing, but real nonetheless.