A Shinobi of Paradis Chapter 7 (An Ackerman in the Woods) (Patreon)

Year 844

Carla's nimble fingers deftly maneuvered the needle and thread, skillfully stitching together a vibrant new shirt for Eren and Naruto, the two mischievous boys who always seemed to find themselves in the heart of an adventure.

"Ackermans?!" she questioned. As her eyes darted towards her husband, who was meticulously preparing for another day at work.Her husband, lost in his own thoughts, turned to face Carla.

"I had told Eren to wake up early," he confided, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment, "but it seems that Naruto, is still sleeping." A wistful smile danced upon his lips.

"I believe Miss Ackerman is pregnant, and they want me to check on her," Grisha explained, as Eren made his grand entrance into the bustling common room. Clad in a striking ensemble, his brown trousers hugged his legs with unwavering elegance, while his green shirt boasted ornate string tassels that danced playfully at the collar. A reddish-brown coat, draped over his shoulders, emanating warmth and comfort. Completing his attire, simple yet sturdy brown shoes adorned his feet, ready to carry him on his forthcoming expedition. Carla knew that Eren was preparing to go with his father to the Ackermans' house.

From what Grisha told her, he wanted Eren to go with him to make more friends. Carla had nothing against Eren having more friends, but she was puzzled that Grisha didn't want Naruto to tag along.

Carla's eyes sparkled with contemplation as her words hung in the air, a hint of anticipation lacing her request. "Shouldn't Naruto come along? He would be able to help with..." Carla's words trailed off, making it clear what she was talking about.

With each passing day, Naruto's growth had been nothing short of extraordinary, his once-nascent abilities now blossoming into a force to be reckoned with. His mastery in the art of tree growth had evolved into a veritable marvel, each verdant creation breathing life into the world around him. Yet, it was his gift of healing wounds that truly captivated Carla's imagination.

One fateful morning, the sun's warm rays filtered through the curtains, gently rousing Eren from his slumber. As the golden light danced upon his weary face, Eren's body was unexpectedly plagued by the merciless grip of a persistent flu. His head throbbed with each heartbeat, his throat felt like sandpaper, and his body, once full of vigor, now succumbed to weakness.

With a gentle touch, his heart filled with concern, Naruto unleashed his healing abilities upon Eren's weakened form. In a matter of minutes, the simple flu that had plagued him vanished, dispersing like a wisp of smoke in the wind. Eren's eyes fluttered open, disbelief and gratitude intertwining in his gaze, as he beheld Naruto, who stood before him.

As Eren's health was restored, Naruto's own strength diminished. The immense power he wielded to mend his brother left him vulnerable and fatigued.

As Eren's sickness began to fade away under Naruto's healing touch, the immense strain on the boy'ss body left him utterly depleted. Collapsing onto the floor, a mixture of sweat and blood trickled from his mouth and nose. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, Naruto surrendered to the embrace of sleep, slipping into a deep slumber that held him captive for a staggering twelve hours.

Unaware of the events that had unfolded, Carla and Grisha were left perplexed, their worry mounting with each passing moment. However, Grisha, managed to quell their fears, assuring both Carla and Eren that Naruto's well-being remained intact.

Carla snapped out of her thoughts when her husband spoke. "He might, but his help is not needed," Grisha reassured her. Carla simply nodded. She hoped Eren wouldn't say things he shouldn't say in front of strangers. She quickly stood up and walked up to Eren.

"Eren," Carla addressed her son with a firm yet caring tone, her voice carrying a blend of authority and warmth, "you will go with your father and meet people your age. Be a good kid and treat them how you would treat us," With utmost tenderness, she placed both of her hands gently upon Eren's shoulders. As their gazes intertwined, Eren's vibrant green eyes met the depths of his mother's warm brown eyes.

"I will if they're good with me," Eren responded nonchalantly, accompanied by a subtle shrug that implied his unwavering confidence in his discernment. Carla, feeling a mix of fatigue and resignation, let out a weary sigh that betrayed the weight of her worries. Nevertheless, driven by her unconditional love and concern for Eren, she reached out and retrieved the vibrant red scarf she had lovingly crafted for him, its intricate patterns and soft texture a testament to her devotion. With practiced ease, Carla deftly enveloped Eren in its warm embrace.

"To keep you warm," Carla said with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with love and affection, as she delicately finished wrapping the vibrant red scarf around Eren's neck.

As the soft fabric embraced him, a comforting sensation enveloped Eren's senses, heightened by the delightful aroma emanating from the scarf, reminiscent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Eren's face lit up with undeniable delight, his heart filled with gratitude for his mother's thoughtfulness.

However, before he could follow his father, the tranquility was interrupted by the faint sound of light footsteps approaching from the corridor.

Their attention was suddenly drawn by the sight of young Naruto making his way towards them. Unfazed by the early morning hour, Naruto ambled forward, clad in his comfortably loose pajamas that allowed him the freedom to move with ease. However, it was his endearing habit of rubbing his eyes, as if trying to banish the remnants of sleepiness from his gaze, that truly captured their attention.

Carla's eyes sparkled with delight as she caught sight of her little boy, awakening from his slumber. The warmth of joy radiated from within her as she briskly made her way towards him, unable to contain her affection. With an adoring smile dancing on her lips, she showered Naruto's rosy cheeks with a flurry of gentle kisses, oblivious to his flustered embarrassment. Naruto, caught off guard by this display of maternal affection, attempted to discreetly extricate himself from his mother's loving embrace, only to find his efforts futile. The scene unfolded before the amused gazes of Eren and Grisha, both chuckling heartily.

Reluctantly untangling himself from the warm cocoon of his mother's tender embrace, Naruto's gaze shifted from her face to his father's resolute countenance and Eren's eager anticipation. It wasn't long before he understood they were going somewhere, particularly when he spied his father clutching his well-worn medical bag, something he took only when he was going out to see his patients.

"Going somewhere?" Naruto questioned, but more like stating the obvious. His father quickly nodded before telling Naruto that he and Eren were going to check on the Ackerman family. They would return within a few hours.

"Can I come with you?" Naruto questioned with a cute smile. He expected his father to either say 'yes' or nod in agreement, as he always did. But instead, his father shook his head this time, much to the surprise of everyone in the room.

"Why not?" Naruto questioned, a little puzzled, his brows furrowing as he searched for an answer. The dim light of the room emphasized the look of dejection on his face, a mix of disappointment and confusion. Even Carla, was taken aback by his unexpected refusal of Naruto's help. Everyone in the house knew how much Naruto liked to help sick people and read about medicine in general, something Grisha was very proud of.

As Naruto's gaze fixated on his father, a flicker of concern danced in his eyes, heightened by the sight of his father's face losing its vibrant color, as if drained by an unseen force. Beads of perspiration began to materialize on his father's forehead, mirroring the increasing tension in the air. Unbeknownst to Naruto, his father's searching gaze was directed past him, as if an ominous presence lurked just beyond his line of sight. Gripped by curiosity, Naruto turned his head, yearning to uncover the enigma that had captured his father's attention. Only to see nothing!

With a tremor in his voice and a pallor still lingering on his face, Grisha mustered the courage to utter the heartfelt plea, "I need you home to help your mother. You can come next time," Naruto's countenance momentarily reflected a tinge of disappointment, yet he swiftly acquiesced.

With a heavy heart, Naruto stood before the weathered door, his eyes fixated on Grisha and Eren departing from the house. A sense of unease enveloped him, like a dark cloud casting a shadow over his thoughts, as he gazed upon the winding path that stretched before them. It seemed as though the very air whispered foreboding secrets, hinting at the possibility of impending doom, as his loved ones ventured towards the untamed wilderness of the nearby forest.

Later - Mikasa

Mikasa listened to the tell-tale patter of rain upon the roof, hiding behind the darkness of her closed eyes.

She felt wood beneath her body. Her hands were bound, her calves and elbows scraped through her thin shift and slightly muddied. She could taste the dampness in the air as she opened her eyes and saw the dead light of afternoon shining in from the windows above.

This was not her house. She was alive, but she did not feel alive in the slightest. Her head throbbed where she had been struck. She shut her eyes again to blot out the pain and the rush of returning memories, but her own body betrayed her by continuing to keep her awake.

Each shallow breath she took was only a cruel reminder of the present. It was unreal, in a sense, like becoming conscious in the middle of a bad dream. But she was not dreaming, and her mother and father would not come to wake her....

Mikasa found she was too empty to produce tears. Too resigned. Shouldn't she feel something?

She was not alone. Even now, the men who had taken her were talking in low, panicked voices. One of them stole a glance at her. "What are we going to do with the girl?" He got up and approached. With his foot, he turned Mikasa over, keeping her head steady with the sole of his boot. "She's pretty, I suppose. Nothing I'm interested in."

"I didn't ask about your preferences," sneered the second man. "The girl's an Ackerman, don't you understand? Her race was supposed to have died out years ago."

The first man scowled. "Her father wasn't Oriental. The mother was a pureblood." He took his boot off the girl's head, and she fell, limp and ignored. "And you killed her."

Now the second protested, "She attacked me first, I had to defend myself!"

"She was one woman!" the first man growled. "You're telling me you can't handle one fucking woman? She was worth more than the three of us put together, and you killed her!"

"It doesn't matter," a third voice cut in, chastising. "We can still sell the girl. There are all sorts in the Underground that would pay a fair price for someone like her."

In her naïveté, Mikasa could only think of selling livestock, but something about the way the third man had spoken made her wonder what they truly had in mind.... As the third man left his companions, she continued to stare into empty light, wishing she could close her eyes and never wake up again. She did not care that she had survived, nor that she was to be sold to an unknown fate, for what could be worse than this emptiness?

But as Mikasa drifted further and further into a place no one could reach her, there came a new sort of creak; the door was ajar. The two men sprang to their feet.

"Check it," said the first sharply.

The second man went over to the door and flung it open, the violence of the gesture causing it to bang against the wall. "What the hell—?"

But he stopped quite abruptly, taken aback by what he saw in front of him. It was a boy, dressed heavily in woollen garb and a dark red scarf, and he jumped back, cowering when the door came swinging open.

"I—I'm sorry, sir," he began rapidly, clearly terrified. "I—uh, I saw your cabin, and I supposed there was someone...." The man turned to the first, who waved him away impatiently. The second man scoffed, turning back to the shivering child.

"Are you lost?" the man asked. The boy nodded timorously. Now the man smiled; this would be easy enough to deal with. "Aren't you frightened? There are wolves in the forest, you know."

The child's reaction was puzzling, devoid of fear or surprise, like the man had expected. Instead, the boy glanced calmly back the way he had come, as though he were expecting something...or someone. In fact, as the man studied the boy's face, he noted that the child did not seem in the least bit frightened anymore.

This gave the man pause. Was the boy part of a set-up, a lure meant to distract him from an ambush by the MPs? But he dismissed the thought quickly; the rain would wash away all tracks their party had left. This was a remote settlement, after all, and the Military Police couldn't care less about one more missing person, especially not in such an unpopulated area. The village would probably have to bribe the lazy bastards to go out in this weather when it was already pretty likely that the worst had happened. Besides, no child was going to get in the way of this.

"You're pretty brave, kid," the man complimented, ruffling the boy's hair. "If you aren't fazed by wolves, then I'll be damned if I ever find out what does faze you."

The boy smiled in return, but it did not reach his eyes. This was somewhat disconcerting.

"But no fear," the man continued, "we'll take good care of—""

"There was a flash of silver in the dead light, and the man's breath hitched, the sound thickening on the end.

"Thank you for your hospitality, sir," said the boy with a forced air of calmness; there was no trace of fear in his voice, and his green eyes were alight with a cold fury that seemed to clash with his young face. "I understand."

The man tried to speak but only gurgled horribly on his own blood, spraying flecks of it and saliva across the boy's face. Without another word, the boy grabbed the man by the front of his coat and, grimacing with effort and wrath, hauled him to the side where he fell to the floor as dead weight, convulsing feebly.

"OI!" The dead man's companion sprang to his feet with a roar. "What the hell is this?"

The boy seemed to realize what he'd gotten himself into, and for a moment, he froze, fear taking over. Then he bolted for the nearby closet in a surprising show of agility and slammed the door behind him, securing the lock almost automatically.

He knew he had only seconds. He could hardly see, but he had his knife, still slippery with fresh blood, and that was all he needed. The man was much larger and stronger than he was, and probably would be carrying a weapon. The handle of a broom caught his attention, and an assortment of many knives and other cutlery that glinted wickedly in the light.

The boy exhaled shakily.

Grabbing the broom in one hand and a larger blade in the other, he got to work. First, he cut the rope to a length he would need—every second counted here—and took the clean knife, tying it hastily near the end of the broom. It was not the best job; it would probably only work once, but it was enough.

Just as he had completed his task, the door was flung open, and the second man shouted, "Come on out, you little shit!"

As if on cue, the boy burst into view with a howl. The second man hesitated, unsure whether to advance or retreat, but that would cost him his life, and so the boy raised his makeshift weapon without fear and charged. The spear pierced the side of the man's chest and continued through, yet the boy was unmindful of the agonized scream.

They fell to the ground, the weapon forced even deeper, pinning the man where he lay. But the boy wasn't finished. Grasping his original knife in blood-slicked hands, he fell upon the man, screaming, "You BASTARDS! You think I don't know what you were going to do?"

Each sentence was punctuated by a violent stab. "You think I don't recognize what you are?" Another flash of steel; blood sprayed over him, and he was inconsolable in his tiny fury.

"You're just a pack of animals, and you have to be put down, you have to—to—"

Emotion rendered him incoherent. His arms were aching from the sheer force it took to drive the blade home, but adrenaline kept him going. He didn't stop until long after the man had stopped breathing, stopped resisting, and when he did, he was calm, though his own body shook.

Slowly, he collapsed across the corpse, panting, soaked in blood and sweat, nearly dizzy with coursing adrenaline. It was only then, and at last, that the boy turned to where the girl still lay, motionless.

"It's going to be all right now," he said hoarsely, clambering from the bloody corpse that had once resembled something human. "He's dead." Just to make her feel better, he kicked the corpse in the ribs; it jolted upon impact but moved no more. "See?"

To his dismay, her expression did not change. She didn't even flinch, just lay there in defeat like a beaten animal. The sight gave him conflict between lingering fury at the men and a strange combination of sympathy and faint, inexplicable unease.

"Aren't you Mikasa?" he asked softly, coming over to her. She blinked, her dark eyes fixing on him. "I'm Eren," he told her, hauling her up into a sitting position, working at the restraints. "Eren Yeager. I think you've met my father, Doctor Yaeger." The binds came loose, and the girl rubbed her wrists absently. "I went along with my dad to your house for business, and—"

"There were three of them," she said quietly, her voice a wisp of a thing.

Eren stopped dead. "What?"

Mikasa's head turned instinctively, and there was a creaking of floorboards. The third man had returned. He recoiled, taking in the scene before him. His two companions lay dead. The girl was unharmed. There was a boy—

"You!" he spluttered, pointing a trembling finger at the blood-stained child. "You did this?" Eren dove for the knife, but the man was larger, and he moved quickly, kicking the boy across the room with frightening ease. Eren crashed into the wall with a cry of pain, but he was not down for long; the man hauled him to his feet, slamming him against the wall, two hands clasped around his smaller neck. "Answer me, you little bastard!" he roared.

Eren found Mikasa's terrified face and gasped, "Fight!"

"The girl shrank back, shaking her head.

"If you don't—" The man slammed Eren's head into the wall, and he choked on his words, "if you don't fight, you lose. Only if you fight can you win!"

Mikasa stumbled back, and her hand brushed something wet and heavy—

The hilt of the knife.

Without thinking, she took it in her hands, wielding it before her, clumsy in her apprehension as she scrambled to her feet.

"I can't!" she cried, but as she looked from the struggling boy to the man, something occurred to her, strikingly clear. She had seen this before, the struggle, and the strange and fearsome light in Eren's eyes, that will to survive. Nature ran its course; predators conquered prey. Nature did not stop to mourn her parents. Nature would not miss her, nor would it miss the boy who had almost saved her. Her life was not an option but a privilege.

"Fight!" Eren wheezed again, his face coloring with a lack of oxygen, and Mikasa's eyes fell upon the third man. Suddenly Mikasa felt as if her entire body was engulfed in electricity, strength unknown to her filled her whole body. She was no longer scared; she was no longer weak.

Her hands steadied, grip tightening on the bloody hilt, knuckles white. And she launched herself towards the target with a cry, raising the weapon high and coming down with all the force she could muster. The man screamed, there was a spurt of red warmth on her hands and arms when she wrenched the knife back. Mikasa shrieked, driven by instinct, shoving the blade further into his insides, twisting. The scream became choked, a mutilated gargle. She gave one final shove, and the hilt was lost to warm, blood-slick flesh. Both Eren and the corpse tumbled to the floor.

Mikasa was still breathing fast, eyes wide, and her arms and front stained generously with red, her own adrenaline seeping away like the blood pouring out of the third man, leaving her strangely exhausted.

"Is it...over?" she asked after Eren had disentangled himself from the dead weight.

"I think so," he replied, glancing at the body. Then he grinned at her and added, "Wait, let me check." He gave the corpse a hearty kick in the ribs, and she jumped. "He's dead," Eren reassured, turning back to her, beaming triumphantly.

Despite the stench of piss and blood, Mikasa could not help but smile in return.

"Are you sure that someone's coming for us?" she asked softly.

Eren nodded, sitting tentatively beside her on the floor. "Yes. We just have to stay put."

It was funny, Mikasa thought. Eren had attacked both men without so much as a suggestion of hesitation, but neither of them wanted to look at the bodies they had left behind.

She wondered what had compelled him to fight with such ferocity if he was just as scared as she was.

"How did you find me?" she asked quietly, staring at her knees, hoping that a change in subject would put them both a little more at ease.

"I followed the tracks," Eren said. "It was raining, remember? There were three pairs of feet, and they were all adult-sized, so I followed them here."

"Oh."

"You know, Mikasa...I was actually kind of stupid back there. I didn't think about what might happen if I couldn't save you, I just rushed in." He chuckled weakly. "We're both probably lucky to be alive."

"Yes," she mumbled, not really believing it but wishing she could pretend to do so. She curled tighter into herself, shivering involuntarily. The rain had stopped a little while ago, but there was still a dampness about the air that chilled her.

The Military Police arrived within the hour, and after the initial surprise wore off, a new man stood there to greet them, bespectacled, pale with worry, dressed in a suit, and carrying a case. He looked at the two children, covered in blood and trembling. His gaze rested on Eren, and he was quiet for a moment.

"Eren. What have you done?"

The boy seemed torn between newfound defiance and apprehension as he replied softly, "I wanted to protect her, father."

The man scowled, took the boy into his arms, and hugged him tightly. "Damn it, Eren, I told you to wait for me!" He let the boy go, kept him at arm's length. "Don't you realize what you've done?"

"They were going to sell her," Eren said tersely, "and I stopped them."

He glanced half-heartedly at Mikasa, as if hoping she could confirm this; she did not meet his eyes.

"You could have been killed!" said the man harshly, "and the Military Police would have never known what happened!" His voice trembled, but only slightly. "Your very survival is nothing short of a godsend!"

Now Eren was shaking as well, and he looked down at his feet. "Father," he mumbled, "I wanted to help."

The man was silent for a moment, then he turned to Mikasa, addressing her much more softly: "You are Mikasa Ackerman?"

She nodded but did not meet his eyes.

"I'm Doctor Jaeger. You might not remember me; you were small last time I visited you. Eren is my son."

"She nodded again. They regarded one another in silence for a while. Then Doctor Jaeger said, 'Why don't you come home with us?'

Mikasa stared blankly up at the man. As if understanding her confusion, he continued, "You'll need a place to stay after everything you've been through."

And when she remained silent, Eren took her arm.

"Are you cold?" Eren asked suddenly.

She side-eyed him. Eren unraveled the scarf from his shoulders and wrapped her up in it, clumsy but genuine in his purpose. Mikasa was too numb to do much else but stare at him. He pulled back, smiling gently.

"Come on," he said with a gruff sort of kindness. "It's getting dark. We should head back home before then."

Home. Mikasa tasted the word, cherishing it.

Let me know in the comments what you think about the Chapter. I hope you have a Wonderful Day.