Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The morning sun spilled over the mist-shrouded hills, casting long, golden rays across the Ackerman family estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of dewy grass and cherry blossoms through the courtyard, where Mikasa Ackerman stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at a particularly defiant hen.

The hen clucked indignantly, its feathers puffed up in righteous defiance. Mikasa, a young woman of nineteen with long, raven-black hair that glimmered in the sunlight, crouched down slightly, her brows furrowed in concentration. "Come on, Chiyo," she muttered, extending her hand slowly toward the nest. "I’m not asking for much. Just the eggs.”

Chiyo responded with a sharp peck to Mikasa’s fingers.

"Ow! You little—" Mikasa yelped, pulling her hand back and blowing on the offended fingers. She stood and smoothed her red skirt, now slightly wrinkled from her earlier attempts to chase the more energetic hens around the yard.

As Mikasa placed the eggs into the basket, she couldn’t help but smile. It was these mundane battles—with chickens, unruly vegetables in their garden, or the creaking gates of the old villa—that reminded her that life could still be simple and beautiful.

“ Mikasa ! Bring the damn eggs already–the fuck it’s taking you so long?!”

"Just a minute, Levi!" she shouted back, huffing as she turned to face the chickens once more. "He’s so dramatic," she muttered under her breath, though a fond smile tugged at her lips.

The other hens had decided to cluster around Chiyo as if forming some kind of feathered union, each one fluffier and more stubborn than the last. Mikasa rolled her shoulders, determination flaring in her chest. She crouched again, moving swiftly this time.

Her hands darted toward the nest, fingers closing around the cool, smooth shells of the eggs. Chiyo squawked in protest, flapping her wings wildly, but Mikasa managed to secure three eggs before scrambling to her feet and backing away.

"Ha! Got you!" she declared triumphantly, holding up the eggs like a trophy. Chiyo gave her a withering glare—or at least as withering as a hen could manage—and stalked off in a huff.

Mikasa turned on her heel and dashed toward the house, her wooden sandals clicking against the stone path. She quickly took off her sandals and her tabi socks patted against the wood. She slid open the shoji door and stepped inside the kitchen. True to her imagination, Levi stood by the stove, his cane propped against the low counter, a skillet sizzling with oil in front of him. He scowled as a loud pop of oil landed on his wrist, leaving a small, angry red mark.

“Motherfucking shit!” he muttered under his breath, his remaining fingers fumbling slightly as he waited for his sister to bring the eggs.

From the doorway, Mikasa appeared. “Levi, what are you—” Her words trailed off as she saw him wince at another pop of oil. 

She bit her lip to stifle a chuckle.

Levi’s sharp blue eye snapped to her, an icy glare freezing her in place. “Something funny, brat?”

Mikasa quickly shook her head, straightening up. “Nothing at all,” she said, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Good,” Levi grumbled, grabbing the spatula again. “If you’re done gawking, give me that basket.” He nodded toward the basket of eggs she carried.

Mikasa held it out, but he snatched it from her hands before she could react. Despite his gruff exterior, there was something oddly endearing about seeing her formidable brother fussing over breakfast. She stepped back to the table and began setting it, arranging the plates and pouring tea into two porcelain cups.

Levi, meanwhile, focused on the stove, expertly flipping the eggs despite his missing fingers. The routine of cooking helped steady his thoughts, but his mind inevitably drifted to the appointment he had arranged for Mikasa a couple of days ago.

The thought of Ms. Hannah, the local matchmaker, made Levi’s stomach churn—not out of dislike, but worry. He had been saving up for her services, setting aside money from the goods they sold in the village. Ms. Hannah was well-known for finding suitable matches, and Levi had reluctantly concluded that Mikasa needed to fit into this world if she was ever going to have a chance at happiness.

Mikasa, however, wasn’t like other women in the village. She had grown up under their father’s watchful eye, sparring with Levi and learning how to throw a punch before she even learned how to sew. Her fierce spirit and independence were qualities Levi admired deeply, but he knew the rest of society wouldn’t see them the same way. They would see a woman who didn’t belong.

And that was the problem.

Levi wanted Mikasa to blend in—not because he doubted her strength, but because he knew the world wasn’t ready for it.

As he plated the eggs and carried them to the table, he glanced at Mikasa, who was now serving tea. Her expression was carefree, almost oblivious to the weight of the expectations Levi carried for her.

The morning had stretched into mid-morning, Mikasa had busied herself with the daily chores, hoping to avoid further stretches of silence so Levi could find the time for the conversation. But Levi, ever persistent, wasn’t one to leave things unresolved.

He found her in the stable, brushing down Titan, her prized black stallion that their Father gifted her before he passed. The horse’s coat gleamed under her care, and its gentle snorts punctuated the quiet rhythm of her brushstrokes. Mikasa looked utterly at peace, her troubles seemingly brushed away with each stroke.

“You care more about that horse than yourself,” Levi said dryly, leaning against the stable door with his cane.

Mikasa glanced at him over her shoulder, her expression wary. “Hi, brother.”

Levi smirked faintly. “Don’t sound so thrilled to see me.”

She huffed, turning back to Titan. “If you’re here to talk about Ms. Hannah again, I’ll say it now—I’m not skipping town for some random boy just because you’re worried about what the neighbors think.”

“I’m not asking you to skip town,” Levi said, stepping into the stable with his uneven gait. “I’m asking you to take the damn appointment seriously. Just one time, Mikasa. Give it an honest try.”

Mikasa paused, resting her forehead against Titan’s neck. “Why does this matter so much to you?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “You’re always saying I don’t need to care what people think. Why start now?”

Levi let out a slow breath, his cane tapping lightly against the ground as he approached. “Because people look at you and see someone who doesn’t fit into their neat little expectations. I don’t want you to spend your life being judged for it.”

“I don’t care about their expectations,” Mikasa said firmly, straightening up. “And you don’t either.”

“This isn’t about me,” Levi said, his tone growing sharper. “It’s about you. I won’t be here forever, Mikasa. And when I’m gone—”

“Stop it,” she interrupted, her voice trembling slightly.

Levi studied her, his expression softening. “All right,” he said after a moment. “How about this? Ask Sasha to help you get ready for the appointment tomorrow. She’ll make sure you look like someone Ms. Hannah can’t turn away, and maybe you’ll stop glaring at me for a while.”

Mikasa groaned, brushing a hand through her hair. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Call it being thorough,” Levi said with a shrug.

She sighed, setting the brush down and turning to face him. “Fine. I’ll go. But only so you’ll stop nagging me about it.”

Levi smirked again. “Good. And don’t worry—Sasha’s a miracle worker. She could make even Titan look ready for a matchmaker.”

Mikasa snorted at that, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

As Levi turned to leave, his cane tapping rhythmically against the ground, Mikasa called after him. “For the record,” she said, her voice softer now, “I don’t.. not want to find love. But you’re my number one priority, Levi. You always have been. You always will be.”

Levi paused in the doorway, his shoulders stiffening slightly. Without turning around, he said, “You’re my priority too, Mikasa. That’s why I’m doing this–and I paid a lot for that appointment.” 

She snorts. “You are the one who insisted that I go to that damn appointment.”

“ Heard you,” Levi said as he walked away.

Mikasa chuckles and looks back to see his form walking even further, “I am going. And don’t worry! I am gonna ace that fucking test!”

Levi smirks and yells back, not stopping. “And watch your language, goddammit! Don’t know where you learned that!”

Both Ackermans smile to themselves at that, of course, she grew up around him and their Father–and that was enough of an explanation. 

When he was gone, Mikasa returned to Titan, running a hand along the stallion’s neck. “It’s just one appointment,” she muttered, as much to herself as to the horse. “How bad could it be?”

Still, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t noticed the boys in the village—one or two had even caught her attention. And the bolder ones had flirted with her in ways she was too sharp not to recognize. But love wasn’t her focus. It couldn’t be. Levi needed her, and also, Titan was her second love. 

Romance could wait.

With a sigh, Mikasa decided to seek out Sasha. If she was going to do this, she might as well do it properly.

Mikasa tightened Titan’s reins as the estate gates swung open. The black stallion snorted, eager to stretch his legs. She leaned forward, patting his neck affectionately. “Alright, boy, let’s get this over with,” she murmured.

The ride to town was a mix of tranquility and purpose. The early Edo period landscape stretched before her, rice fields shimmering under the midday sun. Titan’s steady gallop ate up the dirt path, the familiar route to Shiganshina village lined with wildflowers and the occasional cluster of cypress trees.

As the town came into view, the bustling sounds of the market filled the air. Mikasa slowed Titan to a trot as they entered the town square. Vendors called out their wares: fresh fish, woven fabrics, and handcrafted pottery. Children darted through the crowds, laughing and chasing each other. Mikasa expertly guided Titan through the chaos, her calm demeanor and Titan’s steady footing earning them admiring glances from passersby.

“Mikasa!” an old merchant called from his stall, waving a hand. “Come try the peaches today—sweetest of the season!”

She smiled politely but shook her head. “Not today, Mr. Tanaka. I’m in a bit of a rush!”

Titan weaved gracefully past carts and baskets, Mikasa’s posture straight and confident. She couldn’t help but feel a small surge of pride at the way the villagers watched her—some in awe, others with raised brows. She wasn’t the demure type they expected, but she was undeniably capable.

Soon, the outskirts of town came into view, where houses were spaced farther apart, surrounded by small gardens and fields. Sasha’s family home stood just ahead, its cozy frame partially obscured by fruit trees. Mikasa dismounted, tying Titan’s reins to a nearby post.

Sasha’s mother greeted her, dropping a fruit she had been plucking from her front yard, a warm smile spreading across her face. “Mikasa, dear! It’s so good to see you.” She pulled Mikasa into a hug, her embrace warm and motherly.

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Blouse,” Mikasa replied, returning the hug.

“Come in, come in! Have you eaten? Stay for lunch. I’ll make something quick.”

Mikasa smiled but shook her head. “Thank you, but I can’t. I promised Levi I’d make lunch for him. He may be annoying, but he needs to eat.”

Mrs. Blouse chuckled knowingly. “Well, you’re a good sister for putting up with him. Sasha’s out back watering the vegetables. Go on, I’ll send you both some snacks later.”

“Thank you!” Mikasa said, bowing slightly before heading to the backyard.

Mikasa walked around the house, the backyard garden was lush and well-tended, with rows of vegetables thriving under the midday sun. Sasha stood near a row of cabbages, a vase in one hand and a ladle in the other, humming to herself as she carefully poured water onto the plants.

Mikasa picked up the extra vase and ladle resting nearby. “Need some help?”

Sasha gasped, startled, and nearly dropped her vase. When she realized who it was, her face lit up. “ Mikasa !” she squealed, setting her tools down to rush over and hug her friend.

Mikasa laughed, managing not to drop the vase as she returned the hug. “Careful, or we’ll be watering more than just the vegetables.”

The two girls laughed, and soon they were working side by side, the rhythmic sound of water splashing onto the soil filling the air.

“So,” Sasha said, glancing at Mikasa with a knowing smirk, “what brings you here? Not that I don’t love surprise visits.”

Mikasa sighed, shaking her head. “Levi. He’s nagging me about my appointment with Ms. Hannah tomorrow.”

Sasha groaned dramatically, her free hand resting on her hip. “I thought so. He’s been on you about that for weeks, hasn’t he?”

“You have no idea,” Mikasa replied, rolling her eyes. “I agreed to go just to get him off my back. But it’s not like I want to impress anyone.”

Sasha snorted. “That’s not entirely true. I’ve seen how you look at certain boys from the market.”

Mikasa flushed, splashing water onto the plants a bit too forcefully. “That’s not the point. My brother comes first. Always.”

Sasha’s expression softened, and she set her vase down. “Mikasa, you’re an amazing sister. But you don’t have to put your life on hold for him. He wouldn’t want that for you, no matter how much he nags.”

Mikasa paused, her grip on the ladle tightening. “He doesn’t understand. He thinks I need to fit into some mold to be accepted, but... I just want to live my life on my terms.”

“I get it,” Sasha said gently. “My parents never cared about what the village thought, and I’m so grateful for that. But Levi loves you, and he just wants you to be happy. Maybe tomorrow isn’t about pleasing him or the matchmaker. Maybe it’s about showing him you can handle this your way.”

Mikasa gave her a small smile. “You always know what to say.”

Sasha grinned, picking up her ladle again. “That’s why I’m your best friend. Now, let’s finish this before my mom ropes us into lunch.”

The two girls laughed, falling into an easy rhythm as they worked side by side, the sun casting warm light over the garden.

The warm afternoon sun bathed the garden as Mikasa and Sasha continued watering the vegetables, the rhythmic sound of water splashing filling the quiet. The air was thick with the scent of fresh earth and growing crops, a peace that was interrupted only by the occasional laughter from the two girls.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Sasha asked, glancing at Mikasa with a playful smile. “You’d better not back out on me now.”

Mikasa let out a heavy sigh, finishing the last row of vegetables. “As much as I want to, Levi would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t show up. So, yeah, I’ll go. Just to make him happy.”

Sasha smirked. “I bet you’ll be the one turning heads tomorrow, even if you don’t want to. You always do.”

Mikasa couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Sasha, I’m not trying to be some... attraction for the villagers. It’s just... not my thing.”

“Just don’t let Levi control everything, okay?” Sasha said softly, her tone more serious now. “I know he’s been through a lot, and he’s your brother, but he needs to realize you’re your own person and go at your own pace. You’ve got your own life to live.”

Mikasa paused, staring at the ground for a moment. "I know, but... I can’t just leave him. He’s all I’ve got. He fought for this village. For me. I don’t know how to let go of that."

Sasha nodded, understanding. “I get it. You love him. But you can love him and still live your life, Mikasa.”

Mikasa smiled faintly, reaching for the ladle once more. “Thanks, Sasha. For everything. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? You can help me with this whole ‘getting ready’ thing, I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”

“You bet I will,” Sasha said with a grin. “Take care of yourself, Mikasa. Don’t stress too much, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Mikasa said with a half-hearted smile.

They exchanged one last wave before Mikasa gathered her things, thanking Sasha’s mother once again before leaving the garden.

And as Mikasa made her way back through the town, the familiar sights offered little comfort today. Her mind was preoccupied, replaying the conversation with Sasha over and over. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand her best friend’s point. Mikasa knew she couldn’t stay tethered to Levi forever. But that thought—of living a life without him by her side—felt impossible.

As she neared the fish stall in the market, Mikasa paused. It was time to make sure Levi had a decent meal, even if he was the last person to admit he needed her care. The fishmonger recognized her immediately and waved her over.

“Ah, Mikasa! The usual?” he asked with a warm smile.

Mikasa nodded. “Yes, please.”

The fishmonger handed her a few fresh pieces of fish before Mikasa paid him. She then guided Titan to another stand where she could buy a small bag of treats for her horse, before continuing on her way.

When she reached her house and later the stable, Mikasa took Titan’s reins and led him into his stall. The stallion nickered softly, his ears perking up when he saw the bag of treats. Mikasa grinned, setting the basket down on the hay beside him.

“Here you go, boy,” Mikasa said, gently tossing him a treat. Titan chomped it eagerly, nuzzling her hand for more.

Mikasa chuckled softly, running a hand along his sleek black coat. “I swear, you spoil me more than I spoil you.”

She sighed deeply, her thoughts heavy once more. With one final pat on Titan’s neck, Mikasa made her way back to the house, carrying the groceries in one hand. The weight of the day felt like it was dragging her down, the uncertainty of tomorrow gnawing at her mind.

Her brother’s demands, the matchmaker’s appointment, and the pressure to conform—she wasn’t sure how to balance it all. Mikasa felt the familiar sting of frustration but pushed it aside. Tomorrow was coming, whether she was ready or not.

“I’m not looking forward to this,” she muttered to herself, stepping inside the house and locking the door behind her. The quiet comfort of home surrounded her, but even that didn’t quite offer the peace she sought.

Levi’s voice floated from the kitchen. “You’re back late. What took so long?”

“Just... got a few things,” Mikasa replied, her tone distant. She couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him everything on her mind. Not yet.

As she set the groceries down on the table, her thoughts lingered on what tomorrow would bring.

Would she be able to live the life she wanted, or would she forever be tethered to her brother’s expectations?

For now, she could only wait.

The sunlight streaming through the window was soft, painting the room in a warm, golden hue. Mikasa sat stiffly in front of Sasha's vanity, her reflection staring back at her with an expression of uncertainty. Her usual disheveled bun had been undone, her face bare, and she felt far more vulnerable than she would’ve liked.

The morning hadn’t started well.

She had overslept on purpose, silently hoping Levi might give up on the whole idea and let her be. But her hopes were dashed when her brother stormed into her room, his cane thudding against the floor.

“Get up, Mikasa,” he’d barked, his voice sharp enough to make her wince. “You’ve got a busy day, and you’re not going to waste it in bed.”

She groaned, dragging her pillow over her head, but Levi wasn’t having it. “Don’t make me drag you out of this bed myself,” he threatened, his tone icy.

Knowing he wasn’t bluffing, Mikasa reluctantly got up, grumbling under her breath the entire time. By the time she’d shuffled into the kitchen, Levi had already prepared a quick breakfast and practically shoved a bowl into her hands. “Eat. Quickly,” he ordered.

Mikasa rolled her eyes but obeyed, her mood souring further with every bite. 

Now, here she was, sitting in Sasha’s room, unable to escape the inevitable.

“Stop frowning,” Sasha said cheerfully, standing behind her with a makeup brush in hand. “You’ll wrinkle before you even get married.”

Mikasa snorted softly but said nothing, letting Sasha start her work.

“Alright, let’s start with your hair,” Sasha said brightly, standing behind her with a comb in hand. She began untangling Mikasa’s locks, humming a cheerful tune.

As Sasha worked, her hands deftly styling Mikasa’s hair into a traditional shimada-mage style, the conversation flowed naturally. Sasha talked about her family’s crops, a funny encounter with a neighbor’s dog, and the latest gossip from the village. Mikasa listened, letting the rhythmic motion of Sasha’s hands calm her nerves.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Sasha teased, gently tilting Mikasa’s chin up to inspect her face. “Otherwise, I’d still be in bed.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Mikasa muttered, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

“Oh, don’t start. You’re here now, so let’s make the most of it,” Sasha said, a playful determination in her voice. With practiced ease, she gathered the dark locks into the intricate shimada-mage style, securing it with pins and ornaments that sparkled faintly in the sunlight.

She then began brushing Mikasa’s face with light strokes, applying soft powders and pigments that highlighted her natural beauty. As Sasha worked, she kept up a steady stream of chatter.

“So, this morning,” Sasha started, pausing to apply a delicate line of charcoal to Mikasa’s eyes, “my mother was convinced she saw the baker’s boy sneaking out of the neighbor’s garden. She nearly chased him down the street with a broom.”

Mikasa laughed despite herself. “She didn’t, did she?”

“Oh, she did. But don’t worry, I talked her out of it. I told her he was probably just helping them with something. Not sure she believed me, though.”

Sasha grinned, stepping back to admire her work. “There. Eyes like the moon. Now for the lips.”

Mikasa watched as Sasha painted her lips a deep, vibrant red, the color striking against her pale complexion. 

Finally, Sasha helped Mikasa into the kimono—a beautiful, flowing garment of deep red with golden embroidery that once belonged to her late mother. It fit perfectly, hugging her form with an elegance Mikasa had rarely felt.

When Sasha guided her to the mirror, Mikasa’s breath caught in her throat.

The woman staring back at her was someone unfamiliar. Her eyes seemed brighter, her skin radiant. The kimono, makeup, and hairstyle transformed her into the image of perfection expected of a woman in their village.

“I... I don’t even recognize myself,” Mikasa whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Sasha stepped behind her, resting her chin on Mikasa’s shoulder and wrapping her arms around her. “You don’t need anyone’s approval, Mikasa,” Sasha said softly. “You are stunning. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Mikasa’s eyes began to sting with unshed tears, but before they could fall, Sasha pulled back, wagging a finger at her.

“Don’t you dare cry! You’ll ruin everything I just did!”

Mikasa chuckled, wiping her eyes carefully. “Thank you, Sasha. Really. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

Sasha smiled warmly, her confidence infectious. “Of course, you could. But lucky for you, you don’t have to.”

Mikasa gave her friend a grateful look, a small blush rising to her cheeks. As she stood and prepared to face the day ahead, she felt a flicker of something she hadn’t expected—confidence.

Even if the day didn’t go as planned, she knew she had the strength to face it.

“Thank you, Sasha. I don’t know how to repay you for all this,” Mikasa said, her voice soft with genuine gratitude.

“By walking out that door and dazzling everyone you meet,” Sasha replied, brushing invisible lint off Mikasa’s sleeve and giving her a teasing grin. “Now go! You’re going to be late!”

Mikasa hesitated, clutching her obi nervously. “You’re really not coming with me?”

Sasha rolled her eyes dramatically. “Of course I am, you dummy. Do you think I’d let you face all those vultures alone? I’ll be right behind you after I change out of this mess.” She gestured to her simple work clothes, stained with traces of soil from the garden.

Relieved, Mikasa gave Sasha a small, grateful nod before stepping outside. She mounted Titan carefully, struggling to sit sideways in her mother’s elegant kimono. Titan huffed, almost as if annoyed by her unusual posture, but Mikasa patted his neck reassuringly.

“Alright, boy, let’s go,” she murmured, guiding him toward Ms. Hannah’s house.

The streets were quieter than usual as Mikasa navigated through town. Levi’s absence from her side left her feeling oddly vulnerable, but she reminded herself that he was in the town square, selling their family’s crops. He had entrusted her to do this on her own.

Her discomfort grew with every sideways bounce on Titan’s back. Riding in a kimono was no easy feat, and she clutched the reins tightly, praying she wouldn’t accidentally ruin her hair or smudge her makeup.

By the time she reached Ms. Hannah’s house, Mikasa was relieved to dismount. She tied Titan to a post a little farther from the crowd gathered near the house. Parents, family members, and curious passersby filled the area, all murmuring in hushed tones as they waited for their turn with the revered matchmaker.

Mikasa caught snippets of their conversations as she approached, smoothing the fabric of her kimono nervously.

“Is that... the Ackerman girl?” someone whispered.

“Unbelievable. She’s actually here,” another replied, their tone heavy with disdain.

“She must be desperate,” a third voice chimed in, low and cruel.

Mikasa ignored them, keeping her head high, though her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her obi. Her mother’s kimono suddenly felt like a burden, a weight of expectation she wasn’t sure she could carry.

She stood in line, her gaze fixed firmly ahead, though she couldn’t help but feel the judgmental stares of those around her. To them, she wasn’t Mikasa Ackerman, a strong and capable woman who helped keep her family afloat. She was simply the disappointment of the great Ackerman family—the girl who didn’t fit the mold.

The line moved slowly, and Mikasa’s discomfort only grew. She busied herself by brushing invisible dust off her sleeves. “Stay calm,” she muttered to herself. 

But deep down, she couldn’t help but wonder if she truly belonged here, standing among villagers who had always seen her as something less.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Mikasa prepared herself to face whatever awaited her inside Ms. Hannah’s house, determined to prove—if only to herself—that she was more than the labels others had placed upon her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Sasha waving wildly, her voice ringing out over the gentle murmur of the other girls. “Good luck, Mikasa!” she called, loud enough that a few nearby girls turned with barely concealed snickers, eyebrows raised in judgmental glances.

Mikasa blushed slightly, suppressing the urge to wave back. Instead, she settled for a small smile and a quick nod, mouthing a quiet “thank you” in Sasha’s direction. Even from a distance, Sasha gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up, her smile wide and encouraging.

Around her, parents watched with discerning eyes, some whispering to one another as they took in the scene, no doubt making mental notes on each girl’s appearance and demeanor. Mikasa could feel the weight of their gazes, their silent judgment, as if they could sense that she wasn’t like the others—wasn’t here by choice but rather out of respect for her brother’s wishes.

One by one, the girls were called in. Ms. Hannah’s stern face appeared in the doorway periodically, calling each name with a nod, her gaze unyielding as she assessed each young woman with a practiced eye. Mikasa listened as the line shortened, the soft click of the door closing with each girl’s entrance marking the passage of time. She felt a nervousness creeping up on her, though she did her best to push it down, reminding herself why she was here: for Levi.

At last, Ms. Hannah stepped out once more, her sharp eyes scanning the line until they landed on her. 

The door swung open, and Ms. Hannah’s voice sliced through the murmurs outside with a sharp, almost disdainful tone.

"Mikasa Ackerman!"

Her voice carried a sneer, a hint of annoyance that made Mikasa’s stomach twist. She felt the weight of every gaze on her, each pair of eyes appraising, judging. Ms. Hannah’s expression, as stern and unforgiving as the reputation that preceded her, only intensified as her gaze settled on Mikasa. Her lips were pursed in a thin line, her displeasure evident.

Mikasa could feel the whispers stirring around her, the girls glancing at one another with raised brows and slight smirks. The older women, watching from the sides, exchanged knowing looks. She could almost hear the unspoken thoughts that passed among them: There goes Levi’s sister, the wild one, the one who thinks she doesn’t need to be tamed.

Even the younger girls, each carefully groomed and dutifully poised, held a certain superiority in their eyes as they looked at her. Mikasa was an outlier here, a force that didn’t fit neatly within the lines of what a woman should be. Unlike them, she had grown up fierce and unbridled, not the quiet, deferential figure that Ms. Hannah would want her to be.

But it was more than that. The people in this town respected Levi Ackerman. He was the war hero, the one who’d put his life on the line and returned with scars and stories that earned him their admiration. But when they looked at Mikasa, they saw someone who refused to blend in, someone who didn’t know her place in a world where women were supposed to be submissive, quiet, and poised. She was Levi’s sister, but she was also wild and outspoken, unwilling to bend to their expectations. And for that, they looked at her with wary eyes, with judgment.

Ms. Hannah’s lips thinned further as Mikasa stepped forward. The matchmaker’s voice held an edge as she gestured for Mikasa to come in, her tone clipped. “I hope ,” she said, casting a hard look at Mikasa, “that you’ve prepared yourself to behave in a manner befitting a young woman of this village. Your brother may be a hero, but his reputation won’t excuse any lack of discipline on your part.”

Mikasa felt a surge of frustration rise in her chest, but she swallowed it down. She met Ms. Hannah’s gaze with a steady expression, keeping her chin up. She refused to let the woman’s words wound her, knowing that her brother’s faith in her was all that truly mattered. Levi had sent her here to learn, and she wouldn’t let him down—even if this town and Ms. Hannah couldn’t see past the walls of their own narrow expectations.

With a quiet nod, Mikasa stepped into the house. 

“Well, come in,” Ms. Hannah said curtly, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Mikasa bowed her head slightly and stepped into the matchmaker’s house. The interior was modest yet immaculately arranged, with a delicate scent of incense lingering in the air. Ms. Hannah slid the shoji door shut with a deliberate motion, the soft click echoing louder than it should have in the stillness.

“Stand there,” Ms. Hannah commanded, gesturing to the center of the living room.

Mikasa obeyed, standing tall and straight despite the unease roiling in her stomach. She felt the weight of Ms. Hannah’s scrutinizing gaze as the woman circled her, humming softly while jotting notes onto what looked like a scroll affixed to a wooden clipboard.

“Hm. Your posture could use some refinement,” Ms. Hannah remarked, pausing briefly to tilt her head. “And you’ve got strong shoulders—too strong, almost. Do you lift sacks of rice for fun?”

Mikasa flushed slightly but said nothing, clenching her hands in her lap.

“Sit,” Ms. Hannah barked, motioning to the low chabudai table in the center of the room.

Mikasa lowered herself carefully, sitting on her heels with her back perfectly straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She didn’t miss the way Ms. Hannah’s lips pursed, as if evaluating her every move for flaws.

“First question,” Ms. Hannah said, holding her brush poised over the scroll. “What is the most important virtue for a bride to possess?”

Mikasa hesitated, her mind scrambling for the right words. Her brother’s voice echoed faintly in her head, urging her to get through this for the sake of her future.

“A bride should be...” she stammered, her voice faltering. “Demure and obedient.”

Ms. Hannah squinted at her, the faintest twitch of disappointment flickering across her face. She leaned forward, peering into Mikasa’s expression as though trying to decipher her sincerity.

“Demure and obedient,” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “Do you believe that, or are you simply repeating what you think I want to hear?”

Mikasa blinked, caught off guard. Her heart thudded in her chest, and for a brief moment, she felt like a child being scolded.

“I... I think it’s what’s expected,” she admitted hesitantly.

“Hm.” Ms. Hannah tapped her brush against the scroll, then scribbled something quickly before moving on. “You’d do well to believe it, at least for the purposes of this meeting. Next question.”

Mikasa nodded slightly, her palms growing damp as she braced herself for what was to come.

Ms. Hannah’s expression remained stern, unimpressed. "Demure. How does one demonstrate this?"

Mikasa hesitated. “She… she speaks only when spoken to and always with humility and respect for her husband’s family,” she recited, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she fumbled for the right words. The tension in her chest grew with each answer, and she could feel her cheeks warming under Ms. Hannah’s piercing gaze.

Ms. Hannah placed her scroll and brush to the side, her sharp gaze fixed on Mikasa. “Stand up. Serve the tea,” she instructed curtly, gesturing toward the small teapot and delicate cups on the tray beside the chabudai.

Mikasa hesitated for only a moment before nodding. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the teapot, its weight feeling disproportionate to its size. Carefully, she poured tea into the first cup, but her grip faltered, causing a small splash to spill over the rim.

“Stop!” Ms. Hannah barked, her voice slicing through the air. “Are you a blacksmith, or a lady? Precision, Ackerman! A single spill shows a lack of grace and control.”

Mikasa’s face burned with embarrassment. She straightened her back, inhaled deeply, and steadied her hands. “Yes, ma’am,” she muttered.

With slow, deliberate movements, she corrected her posture and poured the tea more carefully, managing not to spill another drop. Ms. Hannah’s eyes scrutinized her every move, her brush scribbling something onto the scroll.

As Mikasa placed the teapot back on the tray, it clinked against the ceramic cups, and she flinched at the sound. Ms. Hannah inhaled sharply, her exasperation palpable. “Clumsy,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

“Sit,” Ms. Hannah commanded, pointing to Mikasa’s place across the chabudai. Mikasa obeyed, folding her legs neatly beneath her and placing her hands on her lap.

Ms. Hannah picked up her own cup, her movements impossibly smooth as she sipped the tea. “Do you see how I hold this cup? Delicate fingers, a light grip, the rim tilted just so. This is how a proper woman presents herself—graceful, poised, always an extension of her husband’s reputation.”

Mikasa nodded mechanically, her fingers tightening around her own cup.

“What is your opinion on the role of women in marriage?” Ms. Hannah asked, her voice deceptively sweet.

Mikasa hesitated, then replied, “A wife should support her husband and... bring honor to her family.”

Ms. Hannah hummed, her expression unreadable as she scribbled again. “And how do you plan to honor your family if you can barely pour tea without making a mess?”

Mikasa’s stomach churned, but she bit her tongue, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, she bowed her head slightly. “I’ll try harder,” she said softly.

As Ms. Hannah launched into another lecture on decorum and the duties of a wife, Mikasa caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A cricket—small but unmistakable—crawled up Ms. Hannah’s sleeve, making its way toward her shoulder.

Mikasa’s eyes widened in alarm, and she raised a hand to warn her. “Ms. Hannah—”

“Silence!” Ms. Hannah snapped, her voice cutting. “A woman does not interrupt her superiors when they are speaking. You’d do well to remember that.”

Mikasa froze, her mouth snapping shut as the cricket continued its journey. She watched helplessly as it crawled onto Ms. Hannah’s shoulder and, with alarming speed, leaped onto her face.

The matchmaker let out a blood-curdling scream, flailing her arms wildly. Her chair toppled backward as she shot to her feet, swatting at her face in a panic.

“Get it off! GET IT OFF!” she screeched, her voice reaching a pitch that made Mikasa wince.

“Ms. Hannah, please stay still!” Mikasa pleaded, rising to her feet in an attempt to help.

But Ms. Hannah was beyond reason. She knocked over the chabudai, sending cups and the teapot clattering to the floor. Scrolls and ink flew off a nearby shelf as she flailed, and her panicked movements only caused more chaos.

“STOP MOVING!” Mikasa shouted, her voice unusually commanding. She lunged forward to grab Ms. Hannah’s arm, but the older woman spun wildly, stumbling backward.

In her panic, Ms. Hannah backed too close to the small fireplace in the corner of the room. The hem of her elaborate dress caught a spark, and flames began to lick at the fabric.

Mikasa’s heart leaped into her throat. “You’re on fire!” she shouted.

Ms. Hannah froze, her eyes wide with terror, before letting out another ear-piercing scream.

Without thinking, Mikasa grabbed the nearest source of liquid—the teapot—and splashed its contents onto Ms. Hannah. The flames hissed and sputtered before dying out, leaving the matchmaker drenched and gasping for air.

The room fell into stunned silence, save for Ms. Hannah’s heavy breathing and the faint crackle of the fireplace. Mikasa stood there, teapot still in hand, her chest rising and falling as she tried to process what had just happened.

Outside, murmurs and curious whispers could be heard as the small crowd that had gathered wondered what was going on inside.

Ms. Hannah slowly turned to Mikasa, her face a mix of fury and disbelief. Her hair was disheveled, her dress soaked, and her dignity thoroughly obliterated.

“You...” she began, her voice trembling with rage. “You—”

“Saved your life,” Mikasa interjected, her own voice sharper than she intended.

Ms. Hannah sputtered, her voice choked with rage. “This—this is your doing! Your terrible luck! You bring disaster everywhere you go!” Her voice rose with each word, her face flushed red, a livid contrast against her now-drenched, disheveled appearance.

Mikasa opened her mouth to apologize, her voice barely a whisper, “I’m so sorry, Ms. Hannah, I didn’t mean—”

“ Enough !” Ms. Hannah shrieked, grabbing Mikasa roughly by the arm. Her grip was firm and unyielding, and Mikasa winced at the tightness of it as the older woman began dragging her toward the door. Mikasa stumbled as Ms. Hannah dragged her toward the door, the elder woman sliding it open with such force that it rattled on its hinges. The sunlight poured in, momentarily blinding Mikasa as her surroundings came into focus.

A collective gasp erupted from the crowd gathered outside, the sound sharp and cutting. Mikasa instinctively looked down, her eyes locking onto her feet as shame washed over her like an unwelcome tide.

The murmurs started almost immediately, quiet but biting.

“Did you see her face? She must have angered Ms. Hannah terribly.”

“So much for honering the Ackerman family.”

“She’s brought disgrace upon her name...”

Ms. Hannah, dripping and furious, when she haul Mikasa out of the house ignored their gawking, Ms. Hannah turned on Mikasa, her face a mask of contempt as she spat out, “You are a DISGRACE ! You may look like a bride, but you will NEVER bring your family honor!”

With one final, scornful look, Ms. Hannah released Mikasa’s arm and turned back into the house, sliding the door shut behind her. Mikasa stood there, dazed and heartbroken, the weight of Ms. Hannah’s words settling heavily over her. She could feel the eyes of the other young women on her, judgmental and pitying, but all she could focus on was the sting of Ms. Hannah’s voice echoing in her mind.

Mikasa stood there, staring at the closed door of Ms. Hannah’s house, the heavy weight of shame and embarrassment settling like a stone in her chest. She could hear the whispers and murmurs behind her, the soft snickers and pitying glances of the other young women and their parents who’d witnessed her humiliation. Tears stung at her eyes, but she forced them back, swallowing hard and trying to keep her composure.

Just when she thought she might crumble, a familiar, fierce voice broke through the murmurs.

“Oh, you think you can humiliate her like that?!” Sasha’s voice rang out, strong and indignant, and Mikasa turned to see her friend storming up the path. Sasha’s face was red with fury as she pounded her fist on Ms. Hannah’s door.

“Ms. Hannah!” Sasha yelled, loud enough that the whole courtyard quieted. “How dare you treat her like that? She’s worth ten of the meek little mice you try to turn us into! Who do you think you are, humiliating her in front of everyone?”

The other young women gasped, their parents casting scandalized looks in Sasha’s direction, whispering amongst themselves about how unsuitable her outburst was for a “lady.” But Sasha didn’t care in the slightest. She stood tall, shoulders squared, her anger blazing.

“Mikasa is more than you’ll ever see!” Sasha shouted again, her words echoing in the silence that had fallen over the courtyard. “She doesn’t need your approval!”

Mikasa’s heart swelled with both gratitude and disbelief. Here was Sasha, her friend who never once cared about societal expectations, standing up for her without hesitation, without any regard for the consequences. She managed a shaky smile, feeling a warmth in her chest that soothed the sting of Ms. Hannah’s rejection.

Taking a deep breath, Mikasa put a gentle hand on Sasha’s shoulder, her voice soft yet steady. “Sasha, it’s… it’s not worth it. I know you mean well, but—" She glanced at the quiet onlookers, all watching them with a mixture of shock and disapproval. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

Sasha looked back at her, her face softened with concern and compassion. With a last, furious glare at Ms. Hannah’s door, she wrapped an arm around Mikasa’s shoulders, guiding her away from the judgmental stares and whispers. As they walked down the path, Sasha whispered, “You’re too good for her anyway, you know that, right?”

Mikasa smiled faintly, grateful beyond words. “Thank you, Sasha… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Lucky for you,” Sasha said with a playful grin, squeezing Mikasa’s shoulders, “you’ll never have to find out.”

Mikasa guided Titan into his stall, her fingers automatically moving to untie his reins and brush down his sleek black coat. Titan snorted softly, his warm breath puffing against her arm, and he turned his head to nuzzle her shoulder.

Mikasa paused, her hands resting on his neck. “You always know, don’t you, boy?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She ran her fingers through his mane, her touch gentle and slow.

Titan neighed softly in response, his eyes reflecting concern. Mikasa felt a small smile tug at her lips despite the weight in her chest. “Thanks for always listening,” she said, patting his neck one last time.

She set his feed and water before stepping out of the stall, her feet carrying her toward the garden almost instinctively. As she walked, she reached up and began to undo her hair, pulling out the carefully placed pins and combs Sasha had worked so hard to arrange. Strands of ebony fell around her shoulders, wild and untamed, just as they always had been.

Her hands moved to her face next, wiping away the makeup with the sleeves (she’ll wash it later) that had made her look so unlike herself. The cherry-red lips, the powdered cheeks, the perfectly lined eyes—gone. Each swipe of her sleeve felt like peeling away a layer of the person everyone wanted her to be, leaving only Mikasa Ackerman behind.

She sighed as she entered the garden, her bare feet brushing against the soft grass. This garden had been her mother’s sanctuary, a place of life and beauty amidst the chaos of their world. Roses and camellias, lavender and chrysanthemums, all arranged with loving care. Mikasa knelt by a small patch of daisies, her fingers brushing over the petals.

She could still hear her mother’s laughter, her words echoing like a song.

“You don’t need to be like them, Mikasa. You need to be like you. That’s enough .”

Her mother had never forced her into the mold of what a ‘proper lady’ should be. She had wanted her children to be strong, to be themselves. Mikasa remembered the way her father, larger-than-life and always protective, had boasted about her strength and spirit.

“My little girl can outrun, outfight, and outsmart any of those village boys,” he’d say with a hearty laugh, puffing out his chest. “Just like her old man.”

The villagers would laugh along, but only because no one dared challenge Kenny Ackerman when he was alive. His reputation as a fierce soldier and an unwavering protector of his family had silenced any criticism.

But that all changed after he died in battle.

Mikasa traced a finger along the edge of a flower petal, her throat tightening. Her mother had fought so hard to keep their family together after his death, but the illness had come for her just a few years later, leaving Mikasa and Levi alone.

She bit her lip, recalling the way the village’s demeanor had shifted. Their admiration for the Ackermans turned into expectation. They wanted Levi to carry his father’s legacy in the military, and they wanted Mikasa to become a ‘proper woman’ who would bring honor to the family.

The pressure had been suffocating.

While Levi went to war, stepping into their father’s shoes, Mikasa had been left to face the whispers, the judgmental looks, and the harsh lessons of what others believed she should be.

She looked up at the sky, a deep shade of evening blue, streaked with the last hints of the sunset. She felt the sting of unshed tears prickling her eyes, and she swallowed hard, clenching her fists at her sides.

“Don’t cry,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. “You’re an Ackerman, for heaven’s sake. You’re stronger than this.”

But no matter how many times she told herself that, the ache in her chest didn’t fade. The whispers and stares of the townspeople echoed in her mind, their silent judgment a constant reminder that, in their eyes, she would never be enough. She was too wild, too independent, too much of herself for them to ever see her as a proper young woman. She was supposed to be a graceful, quiet doll—someone she could never bring herself to be.

Her feet carried her to a familiar stone bench nestled beneath the low branches of a cherry blossom tree. She sat down heavily, running a hand along the rough stone, her fingers tracing the delicate cracks and crevices.

With a shaky breath, she looked down at her hands. She couldn’t stop the tears that welled up this time; they blurred her vision, making the garden around her hazy. She felt the first hot tear slip down her cheek, and her hands clenched into fists.

It was moments like these when she missed her mother the most. 

Her mother, who had always held her with so much love and gentleness, who had encouraged her spirit even when it didn’t fit neatly into society’s expectations. Her mother would have brushed her tears away, told her she was more than enough just as she was. 

The faintest of smiles crept onto her lips, a bittersweet warmth settling in her chest. She could almost picture her father—if he had been alive and somehow decided, on the rarest of occasions, to send her to Ms. Hannah—how he would have reacted if he’d witnessed today’s events.

The thought came unbidden, but it was so vivid it almost made her laugh.

He’d be livid, of course. No, beyond livid—Kenny Ackerman would be a storm.

In her mind, she could see him stomping down the village streets, his military boots sending clouds of dust flying as he made his way straight to Ms. Hannah’s house. The villagers would part like the Red Sea at the sight of him, murmuring in hushed tones about “the great Ackerman’s temper.”

Reaching Ms. Hannah’s door, he wouldn’t bother knocking. Oh no, her father would pound his fist against the wood, hard enough to rattle the frame. “Open up, you old hag!” he’d roar, his voice carrying halfway across the village square.

And when Ms. Hannah, flustered and indignant, finally slid open the door, she wouldn’t even get a word out before he cut her off.

“How dare you treat my daughter like that?” he’d bellow, leaning forward with the kind of intensity that made grown men tremble. “My little girl is worth a hundred of your perfect little brides, you hear me? She’s smarter, stronger, and better than any of those prissy, powdered-up fools you call ‘ideal.’”

Mikasa could almost hear Ms. Hannah’s stammering attempts at an excuse. But her father wouldn’t let her finish.

“You’re gonna march your stuck-up self out there,” he’d say, or something along those lines, pointing a finger that could pierce armor, “and apologize to her right now. And while you’re at it, give me my money back—every last coin! No one insults an Ackerman and gets away with it!”

By this point, the entire village would have gathered around to watch, whispering about the scene unfolding before them.

“And another thing!” he’d add, his voice rising even further. “You can take your so-called matchmaking and shove it up your ass–because my daughter doesn’t need your approval. She’s perfect just the way she is!”

Mikasa could almost see herself standing awkwardly to the side, her face bright red as her father turned the full force of his wrath on Ms. Hannah.

The image in her mind was so absurd yet so comforting that Mikasa actually let out a small watery chuckle.

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, her breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. “I just wish…” she whispered into the quiet of the garden, her voice cracking. “I wish you were both here.”

The wind rustled through the leaves above her, carrying a gentle, soothing breeze as if answering her quiet plea. She closed her eyes, letting the stillness of the garden wrap around her, comforting her as best it could. Though she was alone, sitting in her family’s garden under the sky, she felt a glimmer of her parents’ warmth in the breeze, and it steadied her, even if only a little.

Levi’s cane clicked against the cobbled path as he guided the wagon into the estate, the reins in his good hand. The town square had been busy, and business had gone smoothly—he’d sold all the produce and goods, which meant they’d have enough coin to get by for another month. But something had unsettled him.

The whispers. The stares.

He had brushed them off at first, scowling at anyone bold enough to linger on him too long. Still, the murmurings and sidelong glances nagged at his mind. Levi had long grown accustomed to the villagers’ disdain—their pity, their gossip—but this felt different. More pointed.

“What the hell was that about?” he muttered under his breath as he unhooked the wagon from his horse.

He rubbed the horse’s neck briefly, murmuring a soft “good job” before leading it to the stall. As he approached, he noticed Titan standing there, already brushed down and settled.

Mikasa was home.

Levi’s lips twitched into a faint smile. So she survived the appointment, he thought, a mix of relief and curiosity filling him.

He patted Titan’s snout as he passed, his steps quickening despite the ache in his leg. His mind raced. He wanted to hear everything—how the appointment went, what Ms. Hannah had said, and most importantly, if there was a match.

Levi was no fool. 

He knew the expectations placed on his sister, and he knew Mikasa often balked against them. But he wanted her to have a chance at happiness, to live a life unburdened by the weight of their family name and his broken body. She deserved more than this small farm and a crippled brother tying her down.

As he stepped into the house, he slipped off his shoes and walked across the wooden floor in his tabi socks. His cane tapped lightly as he moved from room to room, his sharp eye scanning for Mikasa.

She wasn’t in the kitchen. Not in her room. Not anywhere inside.

Levi frowned, his brows knitting together. The excitement that had built in his chest gave way to unease. He tightened his grip on his cane and headed for the backyard.

As soon as he stepped outside, he stopped in his tracks.

There she was, sat on the stone bench beneath the cherry blossom tree, her shoulders slumped, eyes shimmering with fresh tears as she stared down at her hands. The sight made Levi stumble, his usual stern expression softening. He knew the struggles his sister faced, the expectations she fought against. Seeing her like this, vulnerable and heartbroken, was something he could hardly bear.

Her kimono, the one she had taken out of the closet with such hope that morning, was wrinkled and dirt-streaked. Mikasa sat on the bench, her back to him, staring at the flowers as if searching for answers they couldn’t give.

Levi’s stomach sank.

He didn’t need to ask to know something had gone wrong. The way her shoulders slumped, the way her hands rested limply in her lap—it all screamed of defeat.

For a moment, he stood there, frozen. His hand tightened around his cane, anger and worry battling in his chest. He didn’t care what Ms. Hannah had said or done—nobody had the right to make his sister feel like this.

But instead of storming over, he let out a slow breath, softening his expression.

Without a word, Levi walked slowly toward her, his steps careful and deliberate. Mikasa didn’t hear him until he was nearly beside her, and when she finally noticed him, she quickly wiped her cheeks, her hand moving swiftly to hide the evidence of her tears. She turned her body away, her movements tense and defensive, trying to put distance between them.

“Mikasa,” Levi said softly, his voice unusually gentle as he took a seat beside her on the bench, setting his cane to the side. “You don’t have to turn away from me.”

Mikasa kept her gaze averted, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She was silent, trying to gather herself, but Levi could sense the hurt she was holding back. He let out a small sigh, leaning forward, his one good eye focused intently on her.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” he continued quietly, his voice steady and sincere. “I never did.”

Mikasa’s shoulders trembled slightly at his words, and she finally glanced his way, her eyes red and glistening. “I… I just wanted to make you proud, Levi. But I failed—everyone saw it. Ms. Hannah… she said I’d never bring honor to the family.” Her voice broke, and she looked away, the weight of those words pressing down on her.

Levi’s jaw tightened, his knuckles white against the handle of his cane. But his sister didn’t need his anger right now, so he reached over, gently resting his hand on top of hers. His rough, scarred fingers were a comforting weight, solid and reassuring. “Mikasa, you’re already more than I could ever ask for. Those people don’t know you—not like I do.” He paused, his expression softening as he added, “You don’t have to be someone else to bring honor to this family. Just be you.”

Mikasa swallowed hard, the lump in her throat loosening slightly at his words. She met his gaze, and for a moment, she could see the unspoken pride in his gaze. Levi wasn’t one to offer praise freely, but his presence, his gentle words, were enough. She didn’t need the validation of anyone else as long as she had him by her side.

Levi noticed a delicate cherry blossom that had fallen beside him on the bench, its pale pink petals still vibrant and fresh. With a quiet resolve, he picked it up, turning it carefully in his hand. He looked at Mikasa, who was watching him with soft, tired eyes, her earlier sadness fading into something gentler, something peaceful.

Without a word, Levi leaned closer and gently tucked the blossom behind her ear, securing it amidst her dark hair. His hand lingered for a moment as he took in the sight of her, her face framed by the gentle pink of the blossom. She looked up at him, her lips curving into a soft smile, her eyes holding a tenderness that warmed him.

Levi returned her smile. “You don’t need to bring honor to our family,” Levi said quietly, his voice thick with emotion that he rarely allowed anyone to hear. “You’ve already done that. The moment you were born, you gave our family more honor than any tradition or expectation ever could.”

Mikasa’s lips trembled as she processed his words. Her chest tightened and the tears came rushing in. She let them fall freely, unable to hold them in any longer.

Levi’s gaze softened as he looked at her, the cherry blossom in her hair now a symbol of the rare beauty and strength she held. “You’re not a disgrace, Mikasa. You’ve never been one. You’ve carried more strength in your heart than most people could dream of.”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Our parents saw something in you, Mikasa. They saw the same thing I do–the same thing I’ve always seen. You’re a force . A force that will never bend to the world’s expectations. You’re more than enough.”

Mikasa closed her eyes, letting the tears fall even more, no longer fighting them. She couldn’t speak, her throat constricted with a mix of sorrow and relief, but Levi’s words echoed in her mind.

Levi reached over and gently wiped a tear from her cheek, his rough hand surprisingly tender. Levi’s voice then dropped to a soft whisper, his words warm with the memory of their father. “Do you remember what our father used to tell you when you were little?”

Mikasa froze for a moment, remembering the words, and it struck her like a chord deep within her. It was one of their father’s favorite sayings to her, one he would whisper to her when she was small, just after a scraped knee or a minor setback. He had always said that no matter what trials she faced, she would bloom through them, just as the cherry blossoms bloomed each spring despite the harshest winters.

Her father had believed in her, in the way only a father could. And Levi, her protector, her anchor, believed in her just the same.

A sob broke from Mikasa’s chest, but this time, it was followed by a smile. A wide, radiant smile that cracked through the cloud of sorrow hanging over her. Mikasa nodded, her voice trembling as she whispered, “The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.”

Levi smiled faintly, a glint of warmth in his eye. “That’s right.”

She smiles and wipes her tears. "I’m not a flower, Levi," Mikasa said through her tears, her smile brightening despite the sadness. "I’m your sister."

Levi’s lips quirked upward into a small smile, his only eye softening as he looked at her.

"That’s all you need to be, Mikasa," he replied quietly, his heart swelling with pride for the woman she had become, no matter how the world saw her. "That’s all you’ve ever needed to be."

Mikasa’s smile deepened, touched by the words and by the rare warmth on her brother’s face. She knew he wasn’t one for open displays of affection, yet in that moment, she felt his love as clearly as if he’d spoken it aloud. The tension in her shoulders melted, and she let herself bask in the simplicity of the moment—just the two of them, together in their quiet, timeless garden.

Levi gave her a small nod, his smile fading into the familiar calm of his expression, but his eye remained warm, filled with a quiet pride. They sat together in silence, watching the blossoms drift softly from the branches above, the world outside their estate fading away.

“I… thank you, Levi,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with gratitude.

He gave her a small nod, his usual stern expression returning, but his gaze  remained warm. “If anyone ever dares to treat you like that again,” Levi began, his voice steady but laced with an unspoken fury and somewhat humor, “whether it’s a famous matchmaker, an old man, a little kid—hell, even the Emperor himself—if they disrespect my sister in any way, they’ll have to answer to me.”

Mikasa’s eyes widened slightly, not expecting such a declaration. Her brother’s protectiveness was well-known, but she couldn’t help but laugh, despite the seriousness in his tone.

“Oh, Levi,” Mikasa rolled her eyes playfully, trying to lighten the mood as her lips curled into a smile. “You’re such a dramatic old man.”

Levi, despite his stern demeanor, allowed the faintest of smiles to tug at the corner of his lips. He leaned back against the tree, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know I’m serious.”

“I know,” Mikasa said, her smile softening as she reached over and placed a hand on his arm, feeling the comfort of their bond. “But really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Levi met her gaze and shook his head, his expression soft yet determined. “It is to me. It always has been. No one gets to look down on you, Mikasa. Not while I’m still breathing.”

There was a moment of silence as Mikasa looked into her brother’s eye, seeing the unwavering sincerity in them. She’d known Levi her whole life—his strength, his protectiveness, his love for their family—but hearing him say it out loud, with such conviction, made her heart swell.

“Just remember,” Levi added, his tone teasing now, “if anyone tries to mess with you again, I’ll be right there, ready to make them regret it. No one touches my sister. Got it?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes once more but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. “Got it, Levi. I’ll make sure to send them your way next time.”

Levi chuckled softly, relieved to see his sister smiling again.