Ch. 101 - Slowed Heartbeat, Murmured Breaths

                                    

                                          
Levi's instincts were pretty damn good. They always had been. Even if he couldn't pinpoint exactly where danger would come from or what it was, he always could tell if it was there. It was equal parts a blessing and a curse; he knew danger was coming, yes - but he knew danger was coming. And that never felt good.
But it wasn't always instantaneous. It wasn't just that the hair on the back of his neck would prickle up just as he would clue into oncoming danger, and he would turn towards it, ready as he always was to face it. No, sometimes on worse days, he would feel it hours before it would reach him.
Oh, yes. Because coupled with his heightened instincts was this awful, heavy, burdening and often bludgeoning feeling that would settle in the pit of his stomach on mornings when something would happen. Not to him, never to him, but to someone he loved.
The first time he can pinpoint feeling it was the day his mother had passed after being sick for so long. It's one of his clearest memories, and as such he can remember that disgusting feeling that had plagued him that morning when he'd found her dead in the bed that they had shared when she wasn't with a client.
He'd felt it on the second morning of their first expedition out, when Farlan and Isabel had died. On the day of the 57th Expedition, he'd woken up and felt that by-then familiar feeling, not that it made it any better. And on that fateful day, he'd lost his entire squad and dozens of Scouts had fallen in the line of duty.
Similarly, on the day after the battle of Stohess, he'd felt it. But he'd been injured, so he was forced to remain behind as the Scouts went without him, rescuing the young cadets of the 104th at the Castle of Utgard. That'd been the day they lost Mike, Nanaba, Gelgar, and many others.
And then Eren had been captured after they all fought Reiner and Bertholdt. And they went even further that day, going to rescue him. Erwin had almost died that day, but thankfully had only lost his arm, and not his life. Thankfully, his wife had gotten out relatively unscathed save for a few burns and scrapes.
The entire coup had been hell for him, with Scouts being captured or killed left, right, and center. But then there had been relative freedom from that feeling until they went to reclaim Wall Maria and its adjacent territories. That morning, even though he'd told his wife that he felt fine, the weight had never been heavier. But at least he could find solace knowing that she was safe.
He felt bad for lying to her, but at the same time, was incredibly relieved that she couldn't join that fight. If he could have his way, she'd never have to fight again, not after the pregnancy. But she'd insisted on it. To return to Wall Maria, though, she could not. And it was a good thing too, because the weight in his stomach had felt heavier than ever before, as if made of lead.
That'd been an awful day. But once again, the two precious lives he could not - above any others - lose, had been kept safe. And they'd succeeded, by some miracle. He'd been lucky to get out with his life. The few lives that had been spared during the battle were all lucky.
Luck. What a stupid thing to rely on. But when you had nothing else...
There was a time when that feeling was so constant, it became a nuisance more than anything else. Loss was something the Scout Regiment was used to. He wasn't stupid, he knew what they were doing was always dangerous and would likely result in several lives lost. To have to suffer with this heavy, burdening feeling that plagued him nearly constantly? That he could do without.
He already shouldered enough as it was. Why he'd needed to face that too was beyond him.
Then again, shouldering so much had been his choice. It wasn't his choice to be referred to as Humanity's Greatest Soldier, nor the secondary title of the White Wing. But it was his choice to acknowledge them to some capacity, to try to continue being worthy of them, no matter the cost.