Chương 28: Tatakai
The night air was thick and cold, heavy with an unsettling silence as Alaric made his way through the forest. His breaths came in shallow puffs, his mind racing, each step pulling him closer to that dreadful place. The dim glow of a lantern spilled from a window ahead, casting eerie shadows against the wooden walls of the cabin. Alaric's fists clenched as he crept closer, his heart pounding like a drum, its rhythm sharp and unrelenting.
Through a crack in the cabin wall, he could see her-Mikasa, huddled in a dark corner, her hands bound. Her face, usually so full of quiet resilience, was ghostly pale, eyes hollow and empty. Her expression was one he hadn't seen before: lost, utterly broken, as if the weight of her sorrow had hollowed her out from the inside.
The words she'd murmured barely carried over to him, but he could make them out, soft and fragile. "Mama... Papa..."
Alaric gritted his teeth, a surge of rage and anguish flooding him at the sound. She'd lost everything, and here she was, in the clutches of monsters who had stolen her family. His hands shook as he stared at the men standing over her, sneering, treating her as though she were nothing but prey.
One of them laughed, his voice grating, callous. "Crying for them won't bring them back, girl. But we can make use of you. You'll be good for something yet."
The man reached for her, his fingers outstretched with sickening intent. Alaric's vision blurred with fury, his blood boiling, the virus inside him roaring to life, demanding action. He could barely contain it; every fiber of his being screamed to unleash the darkness within, to rip these men apart for what they'd done.
But he steadied himself. For Mikasa.
Drawing a breath, Alaric threw the door open with a violent crack, storming into the room with a ferocity that made the men stumble back.
"Who the hell are you?" one of them snarled, glaring at him.
But Alaric's eyes were fixed on Mikasa. Her gaze flickered toward him, disbelief mingling with a faint spark of recognition as she blinked, her expression softening for just a moment. "Alaric...?" Her voice was barely a whisper, fragile and tremulous.
"I'm here, Mikasa," he said, voice thick with emotion, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white. "I'm not going to let them hurt you."
The men scoffed, regaining their composure, one of them reaching for the knife at his belt. "Looks like you came to the wrong place, kid. You're just another pest for us to deal with."
Alaric's jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. "You took her family. You've caused enough pain. I won't let you touch her again."
The first man lunged at him, swinging his knife with reckless abandon. Alaric dodged, the virus within him surging forward, lending him unnatural reflexes. He sidestepped, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it with a sickening snap. The man howled, crumbling to the floor, his face twisted in agony.
The other two men exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting from amusement to something darker, more wary. They spread out, attempting to flank him, but Alaric was ready, his every movement sharp, precise, and fueled by a barely contained fury.
As the second man charged, Alaric ducked low, driving his fist into the man's gut with brutal force, feeling the resistance as flesh and musclecrumpled under his blow. The man staggered, gasping for air, and Alaric didn't hesitate. He drove his elbow down onto the back of the man's head, sending him crashing to the floor.
In the chaos, Mikasa's gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes widening as she watched him fight. There was something in the way he moved, something fierce and unyielding that seemed to reach through the fog of her grief. Her fingers twitched, clenching against her bindings as she took in every strike, every movement.
But the last man, the largest of the three, moved forward with a cold smile, his knife flashing as he lunged toward Mikasa, intending to use her as leverage. "Stop, or she dies!"
Alaric's heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He was too far to intercept. "Mikasa!" he shouted, desperation threading his voice.
At that moment, something shifted in Mikasa. Her gaze sharpened, the haze of grief lifting, replaced by a cold, fiery resolve. She seemed to come alive, her entire body tensing as she looked up at the man with an intensity that sent a chill through the room.
"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered, her voice low but steady, fierce.
Before the man could react, she sprang forward, kicking him hard in the knee, sending him stumbling back in shock. Her hands, though bound, gripped the rope with a strength that surprised even her as she twisted her wrists, managing to loosen the bindings just enough to slip free. She lunged, her movements driven by a force she hadn't known she possessed, striking the man across the face with a fury that left him reeling.
Alaric watched in awe, his heart pounding as he saw the spark ignite in her-the primal instinct, the fiercesurvival drive of her bloodline. This was Mikasa, no longer broken, no longer lost. She was a warrior, fierce and unyielding, fighting for her own life.
The man stumbled back, dazed, and in that moment, Alaric moved in, his body a blur as he closed the distance, grabbing the man by the collar. His eyes were dark, burning with a wrath that was barely human. "You made her suffer," he growled, his voice dripping with venom. "You won't hurt anyone ever again."
With a surge of strength, he drove the man back, slamming him into the wall with bone-crushing force. He didn't stop, didn't relent. Every strike, every blow was a release, a visceral expression of his anger and pain. He struck again and again, the virus within him feeding his rage, urging him on until the man's cries faded, leaving only a broken, lifeless shell.
Silence fell over the cabin, thick and heavy. Alaric stood there, breathing hard, his hands bloodied, his body tense. He turned, his gaze softening as he looked at Mikasa. She was breathing heavily, her shoulders slumped, but her eyes shone with a new determination, a fierce resilience that hadn't been there before.
He walked over to her slowly, kneeling beside her, his voice soft, almost tender. "It's over, Mikasa," he said, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. "You're safe now."
But her gaze was haunted, her expression twisted with pain as she looked down at her hands, now trembling, stained with the blood of the man she'd struck down. "I...I didn't know I could do that," she whispered, her voice wavering. "I didn't want to...but I couldn't just...stand there."
Alaric took her hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle. "You did what you had to.
You fought for your life, Mikasa. That's nothing to be ashamed of."
She looked at him, her eyes glassy, filled with a sorrow that seemed bottomless. "But they're gone," she murmured, her voice breaking. "Mama and Papa... they're...gone."
Alaric felt a lump rise in his throat as he watched her crumble, her shoulders shaking as she finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of her loss. Gently, he pulled her into his arms, holding her as her tears fell, his own heart aching with a pain he couldn't fully express.
"I know, Mikasa," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "But you're not alone. I'm here. And as long as I'm alive, I'll protect you. I promise."
They stayed like that, locked in a quiet embrace, sharing a grief that bound them together more tightly than words ever could. The horrors of the night, the losses they'd endured, lingered around them, a heavy, oppressive shadow. But in that moment, they were no longer just two broken souls; they were survivors, bound by loss and resilience, finding strength in each other.
Finally, Alaric pulled back, his gaze steady as he looked into her eyes. "Come on. Let's go back. We'll give them the peace they deserve."
Mikasa nodded, her expression somber but resolute. Together, they left the cabin, stepping into the night with a quiet determination. Their path was uncertain, their wounds raw, but as they walked side by side, there was a strength between them, a fierce, unbreakable bond that would carry them forward.
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