snk ficlet (irvin, gen)

[ladyhoneydarlinglove]

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~590
Summary: There's a tree upon which Irvin places the names of his fallen soldiers.
Notes: Spoilers through at least ch. 36?? Don't know the exact number,

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There are perks that come with being the Commander of the Scouting Legion. Most of them don’t matter to Irvin, and he would gladly give them up in exchange for a lower mortality rate amongst his troops, but one of the few things he does enjoy is the small house allotted to him. He could have had nicer quarters, and they’ve been offered to him several times, but Irvin likes the small space. It’s calm and peaceful, things that he often finds himself in desperate need of.

And, in the tiny backyard, there’s a tree that has come to have great importance to Irvin, so much so that he could be offered the nicest living arrangements in the entire world and he wouldn’t take it for love of his small house and its tree. It’s an oak tree, small yet for its kind but growing steadily every year. It sprouts bright green leaves in the spring that fade to a stunning array of red and gold in the fall, and in the winter, the naked branches stand tall and proud under the onslaught of snow and sleet. And throughout all the seasons, it displays a plethora of small white ribbons, which shine in the sun and flutter delicately in the breeze.

On the ribbons are the names of every soldier Irvin has lost under his command.

It was a tradition he started long ago, very shortly after he became Commander. There had been a badly botched mission that had left more soldiers dead than Irvin likes to remember, and as most of them had been eaten, there had been no bodies to place in graves. And it didn’t seem right, not the honor the fallen after all they had done, so in the lieu of a proper burial, Irvin started looking for other ways to remember them. He tried carving names onto pieces of wood at first, but it was difficult and Irvin had no good place to put all the plaques. He tried planting flowers, but they were seasonal and didn’t last.

The idea of the ribbons had come to him in a particularly painful moment upon the return of another unsuccessful mission, when a sobbing mother, clutching the favorite hair ribbons of her daughter, had fallen to her knees in front of him and demanded to know what had happened to her little girl. And Irvin had only been able to provide the standard words of comfort, but when the sobbing woman left, she dropped a ribbon, and Irvin had picked it up.

The girl’s name had been Emily, and Irvin remembered that she had died quite bravely, trying to save a fellow soldier. Hers was the first ribbon to be hung upon the tree. And now the tree is covered with more names than Irvin ever wanted to place.

There are several new ones today, his first day home since the disastrous attempt to capture the female type titan. He knows the names of each of the fallen soldiers, and also how they died, but a few of them stand out particularly strong in his mind.

Mike Zakarius. Auruo Bossard. Petra Ral. Erd Gin. Gunter Shulz.

He places these ribbons together on a small branch with no other names on it. It seems fitting that comrades as close as these should be remembered together, though Irvin wishes he didn’t have to remember them at all.

“Would that it could have been me,” he whispers as he finishes tying each ribbon, as he always does.