‘Mikasa.’
Sasha stares at her, frowning, watching the dark hair hiding her face from view.
‘Mikasa.’
She hasn’t seen Mikasa in days; they kept missing each other, and the scant hours where they aren’t desperately preparing, trying to gather themselves after the latest expedition, it has been all she can do to find her way to a bed and sleep.
But Mikasa is here now, silent and closed off, starting into the distance beyond the wall. Stepping forward, she brushes Mikasa’s hair from her face. She looks tired, hollow-eyed and watchful as she gazes at Sasha.
‘What are you thinking?’ It’s a stupid question, stupid and futile, but she asks it anyway.
'Are we making a difference?’
Sasha blinks, taken aback. 'What do you mean?’
'We kill Titans, but it never seems like there’s fewer of them.’
Maybe if Sasha was someone different she could give a speech – a speech like Mikasa has given herself, about fighting and winning; a speech like Eren or the Commander or even blunt, prickly Captain Levi. But she is just Sasha, and she loves Mikasa, though she hasn’t said so yet, and she wants Mikasa to smile, wants to see the tiny upturn at the corners of her mouth and the way her eyes soften and gentle.
If there were food, she would offer it. If the others were here she could tease and joke and distract. But it is just Sasha and Mikasa, and so she does something silly enough to play off, daring enough that her heart throbs in her chest.
It’s easy to dart forward, press a silly little kiss to Mikasa’s delicate nose, and it gets her attention, eyebrows shooting upward as she finally turns away from the horizon.
'What -?’
Sasha does it again, before she can think better of it, and the tiny hint of a bemused smile that curls across Mikasa’s face is worth any amount of teasing that might follow.