The woman who lived by the hill

(72) Life in Hizuru

Hizuru
859

One year later after the signing of the peace treaty...

"And I asked her, ' Why would I sleep with your sister? She's even more of an arse than you are!'. She didn't like that."

The musician guaranteed one last round of breathless laughs or amused chuckles from his spectators. He smiled broadly at the twenty-or-so seated people in the room, looking at him or giggling under the hands they covered their faces with. He was happy that even though he was primarily a musician, he could still make people laugh between songs with a few jokes.

"I would like to thank everyone who came to listen to me play tonight," said the man. He raised his hand thankfully and waved goodbye. "I am grateful for your support."

His earned cheering and clapping were deafening. Everything from loud shouts and polite claps could be heard.

Mikasa Ackerman had particularly enjoyed the show. She's seen this musician quite a few times—he was amongst the best in Hizuru.

It was a miracle that Ren hadn't woken up in the sling hugging him to her back.

Soon, the appreciation for the presentation died off. Spectators began to make their way out, chatting instead about the quality of the musician's show. They offered generous tips along with payment at the door and exited into the cool night.

The young mother hailed a cheap carriage at the curb of the road. She gave the driver the location of her country house, and he brought her there for a low price she was grateful for. Before long, he'd stopped in front of Mikasa's house and rode off to hunt for more paying customers in need of rides.

With the key she kept on a chain at her hip, Mikasa opened the door and stepped inside. Feeling around for the oil lantern and lighting up the room was her priority. As soon as she could see clearly the insides of her small house, Ackerman focused on bringing down her son and putting him to bed in his crib. It was lucky that Ren was an easy sleeper.

Back in the kitchen, Mikasa cooked herself a small late-night snack. The woman settled at the table and brought out her present embroidery project. Though the show had thrown her a little off schedule, if she could finish it by morning, she might please her teacher.

Life in Hizuru was not easy.

***

An old Hizuren woman by the name of Aimi was one of the most renowned and talented teachers of embroidery around. Despite calling her customers students and proclaiming herself a proper teacher, her large house was not officially considered a school. This was where Mikasa spent her days, improving her embroidery until her workmanship was worthy to be sold on the market.

Aimi had varying students, though they were mostly restrained to the female sex. There were girls as young as eight learning how to pass a string through the head of a needle with their unprecise little hands; teenage girls and young women whose parents wished them to learn embroidery from a professional or who hadn't had the opportunity to do so earlier in life; even the elderly took joy in Aimi's classes when their memory withered.

Women around Mikasa's age in Hizuru were oftentimes mothers to children. Aimi allowed them to bring their babies and toddlers to the classes and made no objection if one of her students had to step out to change or breastfeed their little one—there was also a special, small room designated to do just that. Mikasa was glad to learn in a place child-friendly where she was surrounded by other mothers who had to care for their babies, too.

The women's classes were in the morning, the elderly during the afternoon, and the children came after dinner at home. People came knocking at Aimi's door with their offspring sitting on their hips or holding their hands. It wasn't uncommon for the teacher to open the door to a woman scolding her child, and to immediately be bombarded with apologies.

"Good morning, good morning," Aimi would say as she welcomed her students into the house. While they headed towards the working room, the old woman would hang around the door, waiting for her next student to come knocking. Usually, they showed up at intervals of a few minutes, either alone with their kids or in small groups.

"Good morning, Aimi," said Mikasa when her teacher opened the door to her. "How are you?"

"I am doing fine. Go join the others in the working room."

Mikasa walked through the house and entered the sparse room where Aimi taught her students. A lot of women were already gathered, prepping their materials or else caring for their children. She picked an empty spot, retrieved a cushion to sit on and set Ren down on the floor with a toy.

A few minutes later, after a few other women had arrived, Aimi walked into the room. She looked at the eleven students and their children and nodded. "Everyone is here today. Good. Did you all have the chance to complete the embroidery project I asked you to finish yesterday?"

Everyone nodded except one woman, who was known to have a great number of children and a dead husband. She said sheepishly, "My oldest was sick. I tried to finish it in time, but it's not quite done yet."

"Is he still unwell?" Aimi asked.

"Yes... his sisters are caring for him at the moment."

"That won't do. Go to him. Come back to class when your son has gotten better."

"You mean it? Oh, Aimi, thank you so much!" The grateful woman quickly gathered her materials and left with the four young children she had brought along.

Aimi was a kind woman and understanding of the struggles of single mothers.

"Let's start the class. Take out your work, please."

The teacher went around the room, examining each student's embroidery. She gave pointers and an honest opinion before moving on. For the most part, she was satisfied with their work.

"I love this old technique," mumbled Aimi when she looked over Mikasa's work. "It's nicely done, but the stitches in the middle are a little far apart. I don't think it was the intention for the fabric underneath to show."

Mikasa was the only student who practiced an older method of embroidery. Her ancestors had brought their knowledge of embroidery inside the walls and taught it to their children. They maintained the old technique rather than letting it evolve as it did in Hizuru. The fact that Mikasa knew it made Aimi dedicated to teaching her how to hone her skills to perfection. It was predicted that Mikasa could make good money off her embroidery in the near future.

"I am very surprised this method survived for so long in Paradis. Glad, nonetheless. You don't see many people practicing it nowadays. Maybe I should teach my students."

Ackerman took back her embroidery, smiling. She loved embroidery. Using the technique originally taught to her by her mother, Mikasa could make a living off something she enjoyed. Plus, she could raise Ren in an easy environment free of violence. It would be difficult to provide that as a soldier.

Clearing up one little matter and receiving approval from Aimi to sell her embroidery was all she needed before she could leave Hizuru. Even if she could walk around without having to hide the mark of Azumabito on her wrist, she dearly wanted to raise Ren on Paradis. She also wanted to visit her friends in the Allied Nations and be close to Eren's grave.

Ren was getting loud. Mikasa glanced down at her son, who lay on his stomach, lifting his head and looking around. His eyes landed on his mother and his small mouth spread into the most adorable smile. "Ma... Mama!"

The young woman let out a joyous cry that drew the attention of the others in the room. She picked up Ren and held him in front of her by the armpits.

"Say that again, darling!"

"What's going on?" asked Aimi.

"My son said his first word!" Mikasa exclaimed. "He said 'Mama'!"