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.

Chapter Text

On the other side of the Empire, in a grand, brightly lit hall, Captain Eren Yeager stood in a line alongside his fellow Captains, each representing their province with a look of unyielding determination. He was only twenty, but his posture was firm, his gaze steely. He knew the weight of the responsibility he bore; he’d trained for this since he could remember, but the reality of war brought a tension he couldn’t quite shake.

At the front of the room, the Japanese General spoke in a commanding voice, his tone carrying the gravity of the situation. The words reverberated through the hall as he discussed the recent declaration of war, a threat that loomed over the empire with unsettling certainty. 

On his regal throne, Emperor Rod Reiss sat in silence, his face calm yet solemn as he listened intently to the General’s words.

Eren could feel his heart pounding as he took in every word, the gravity of the war becoming more real with each passing moment. He tried to steady himself, willing his mind to focus. This was what he’d trained for, what his superiors expected of him—and what he expected of himself. He wasn’t just here to represent his province; he was here to fight, to defend his country, to protect the people who couldn’t defend themselves.

The General’s voice boomed again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “We face an enemy unlike any other. Each of you, as Captains, holds the honor of leading your men into battle. This is no ordinary duty. It is a calling—a test of both courage and loyalty.”

Eren’s jaw tightened as he absorbed the words, glancing momentarily at the faces of the other Captains. Each of them bore the same look of resolve, the weight of their duty reflected in their expressions. Yet, Eren could feel a different fire burning within him—a fierce determination that refused to be quelled, one that had driven him through countless hours of training, one that kept him awake at night, consumed with the vision of protecting his homeland.

As the General continued, Eren allowed himself a brief thought of home, of everything he was fighting for. For a moment, he wondered if his path would one day cross with those he had yet to meet, those whose lives would forever be shaped by this war. He stood taller, his resolve hardening with each passing second.

As the General finished his report, the Emperor finally spoke, his voice calm yet carrying a quiet, unshakable authority that filled the vast hall.

“It is decided,” he announced. “For the safety and future of our empire, I order a general mobilization. One man from each family under the age of 40 will be conscripted to join the Imperial Army. Let this act show our unwavering resolve and unity in the face of this threat.”

A solemn silence settled over the room as the weight of the Emperor’s words took hold. The gravity of this decree rippled through each of the Captains and the General present, filling them with a renewed sense of urgency and duty.

At once, the General bowed deeply, followed by every Captain, each lowering themselves in a unified show of respect. Eren bowed along with them, his heart steady yet racing with anticipation. This was the beginning of something vast and inescapable—an order that would call upon families throughout the empire, disrupting lives. 

As they straightened from their bows, the General turned sharply on his heel, signaling his officers to follow. They filed out of the hall with swift, purposeful steps, their faces set with determination, understanding the responsibility now placed upon their shoulders.

Eren moved along with the others, his mind already turning to the task ahead. Mobilizing the provinces, preparing the men, and ensuring they were equipped and prepared for the battles they would face. His heart beat with a mix of dread and excitement as he realized the monumental task that lay before him. Each family would be called upon to make a sacrifice, and he, along with the others, would ensure that sacrifice was honored.

As he stepped out into the daylight, Eren felt the full force of his purpose settles within him.

The large command post tent stood proudly in the center of the Paradis Province’s military encampment, its canvas flapping gently in the breeze. Inside, Eren, with his commanding presence, stood hunched over a large wooden table. The surface was scattered with maps, reports, and scribbled strategies. The air inside was tense, the gravity of their situation pressing down on everyone present.

Eren’s sharp green eyes scanned the maps, his jaw tight with concentration. Around him stood his three most trusted friends and First Lieutenants: Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, and Connie Springer. Each of them brought their own expertise to the table, and Eren trusted them with his life.

“The Emperor’s order changes everything,” Eren began, his voice steady but firm. “That means we’re going to have a wave of raw recruits coming in within days—most of them untrained and unprepared. It’s our job to turn them into soldiers.”

Armin, the shortest and leanest of the group, nodded. His blond hair was slightly disheveled, and his blue eyes were filled with thought. “We’ll have to start from the basics. Most of them probably don’t even know how to hold a weapon, let alone use one effectively.”

“Basics are important,” Jean cut in, his deep voice steady. With a confident demeanor, he crossed his arms as he leaned back against a tent pole. “But we can’t afford to waste time. We need to identify the ones with natural skills early on and focus on advanced training for them. We’ll need swordsmen and bowmen too.”

Connie, the most easygoing of the group, let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “And let me guess, I’m stuck teaching them how to survive in the wild, right? Tracking, hunting, all that fun stuff?” He grinned, though the tension in his eyes was hard to miss. “Not that I mind, but do we really think we can turn city folk into hunters in just a few weeks?”

Eren smirked at Connie’s remark but quickly sobered. “We don’t have a choice. The enemy’s declaration of war means we have to act fast. They won’t wait for us to be ready.”

He straightened and turned his attention to Armin. “You’re the best in hand-to-hand combat, so you’ll take charge of that. Start with drills that focus on agility and precision. We’re going to need soldiers who can handle themselves even without a weapon.”

Armin nodded, a determined look crossing his face. “Understood, Captain. I’ll set up a schedule and get the necessary equipment ready.”

Eren’s gaze shifted to Jean. “Jean, you’ve always been our expert with weapons. You’ll train them in swordsmanship and archery. We’ll need a mix of close-range and long-range fighters.”

Jean pushed off the pole and nodded. “Got it. I’ll start setting up practice targets and sparring sessions.”

Finally, Eren turned to Connie. “And yes, Connie, you’ll handle outdoor survival. These recruits need to learn how to navigate terrain, track the enemy, and hunt for food if supplies run low. You’re the best at that.”

Connie chuckled, though his usual lightheartedness was tinged with seriousness. “You got it, Captain. I’ll whip them into shape.”

Eren glanced back down at the maps, his brow furrowing. “This isn’t just about training. It’s about morale. These recruits are going to be scared, confused, and out of their depth. We need to show them that we’re ready, that we’re strong, and that we’ll lead them through this.”

Jean clapped a hand on Eren’s shoulder, his usual sarcastic edge softened. “Don’t worry, Yeager. We’ve got your back. Always have, always will.”

Armin and Connie nodded in agreement, their loyalty unwavering.

Outside the tent, the sounds of soldiers setting up camp filled the air—voices calling out orders, the clatter of equipment, the rhythmic pounding of tent stakes into the ground. The sight of Eren’s troops working tirelessly to establish the encampment was a reminder of what was at stake.

Eren straightened, his resolve clear. “Good. Let’s get to work. Prepare your training grounds. We begin at dawn.”

The four of them exited the tent, their presence immediately drawing the attention of the nearby soldiers. 

As his friends dispersed to their respective tasks, Eren stood for a moment, gazing out at the bustling camp. The weight of leadership pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he welcomed it. This was his chance to make a difference, to protect his country and the people he cared about.

Later that day, after a few conscripts had arrived, Eren retreated to his tent. The sounds of the camp outside faded as he unbuckled his armor, stripping down to just his pants before settling onto the tatami mat. He lay there in the quiet darkness, staring at the ceiling of the tent, his body aching from the day’s preparations. The only sounds now were the soft rustle of the canvas in the evening breeze and the distant murmurs of his men, preparing themselves for what was to come.

His thoughts swirled, restless, and filled with unspoken fears. 

Would this war ever end? 

Would the sacrifices of those conscripted ever bring peace, or was it all just an endless cycle of bloodshed? 

He closed his eyes, trying to quiet his mind, but the images of war and its toll on the people haunted him. He had seen the suffering of those affected by the conflict, and he feared that it was only a matter of time before it came for him as well.

With a deep sigh, Eren reached for the small, weathered picture of his mother he kept tucked in his pack. He ran his fingers over the edges of the worn photo, the image of her gentle face providing a fleeting comfort. He wished he could return to the simplicity of those days—to a time when he could sit by her side, safe from the weight of the world outside their door.

But that was no longer possible. There was no time for longing, no time for memories. The war was coming, and it was Eren’s responsibility to face it head-on.

The freshly promoted Captain lay there in the dim candlelight of his tent, letting the silence wrap around him. His thoughts drifted one last time to the future, to the hope that this war, which had raged for as long as he could remember, would one day come to an end. Until then, all he could do was fight, to honor the men who had been conscripted, and lead them through the darkness toward whatever lay beyond the war’s horizon.

The dawn broke softly, casting a pale golden glow across the quiet landscape. Eren rose before anyone else in the camp, moving silently in the morning stillness. He donned his armor, each piece fitting snugly against him like a second skin. The metal plates felt reassuring, a weight he’d long grown accustomed to—his armor was both his protection and a reminder of his duty.

Without a word, he made his way through the hushed camp and toward the nearby lake, where the water shimmered faintly under the first rays of light. Kneeling by the lake’s edge, he settled himself, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. His mother had taught him to meditate in the mornings, to find peace in stillness before facing the challenges of the day. It was a practice he had held onto, a piece of her that he carried within him.

As he sat there, the sounds of the world fell away. The only thing he felt was his breathing—the slow, steady rhythm that grounded him. He could almost hear his mother’s voice, reminding him to center himself, to find balance even amid chaos. The air was cool against his skin, and he focused on the subtle sounds around him: the soft lapping of the lake, the distant rustling of leaves, and the gentle calls of early birds beginning to wake.

Then, gradually, he became aware of the stirrings in the camp behind him. The muffled sounds of voices, the clinking of armor, and the quiet murmurs of men greeting the dawn. His troops were waking, and he knew they were gathering the newcomers, men from the surrounding villages, conscripted just like the rest.

Eren took a long, steady breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it slowly. He felt the tension and uncertainty melt away, replaced by a calm resolve. His men, especially the newcomers, would look to him for guidance, and he had to be ready. Standing, he cast one last look over the lake, allowing himself a final moment of quiet.

As he turned and made his way back to camp, Eren’s face was set with determination, his footsteps sure and steady. The weight of his armor felt lighter, and his heart was clear. The day ahead would be filled with challenges, but he was ready to meet them—just as his mother had taught him.

As Eren made his way back into camp, his men stood to attention, saluting him respectfully as he passed by. He returned their gestures with a firm nod, a subtle acknowledgment that he was proud of them, that they were in this together. His soldiers respected him, not just as their Captain but as someone who bore the same burdens they did—someone who understood the cost of duty.

Eren soon arrived at the command tent. As he lifted the flap and entered, he found his Lieutenants waiting for him, already seated around a low wooden table with a fresh pot of tea set out, rice bowls on one side, plates of grilled fish, and pickled vegetables neatly in between. They stood as he entered, each greeting him with a mix of respect and familiarity.

"Captain," They all bowed after a respectful nod. 

Eren returned the look with a warmth reserved only for his closest friends. “At ease.”

The three Lieutenants relax and Armin smirks as Eren walks toward them. “I’m guessing you’re not hungry?”

Eren snorts because they both know he is always hungry. He and Armin went back further than anyone in this camp. They had been through so much together, bound by memories of childhood and the dreams they'd once shared of peace and freedom.

Jean handed him a cup of tea, his expression typically stoic but softened with understanding. Jean had always been the practical one, keeping everyone grounded, even Eren, when his resolve threatened to overtake reason.

"Freshly brewed, Captain," Jean said, with just a hint of his usual sarcasm. "Don’t say we don’t treat you well."

Connie grinned, leaning back with casual confidence. "We’ll need it before the day’s over. I bet the new conscripts will look green enough to mistake their armor for cooking pots.”

Eren smirked, settling down onto a cushion beside them and taking a sip of the tea. It was strong, just the way he liked it, and helped clear the fog of the early morning from his mind. His gaze turned serious as he set the cup back down, his expression shifting as he looked around at the three men he trusted most.

“Well,” Eren began, resting his forearms on the table, “we’ve got a lot to go through today. These new recruits have barely held a sword, much less trained for battle, so it’s up to us to get them ready. We’ll divide them into smaller squads for the initial drills.”

Eren’s stern expression softened as he looked around at each of them, feeling immense gratitude that he didn’t have to do this alone. His Lieutenants weren’t just his officers—they were his family here, each one taking on their role with loyalty and resilience.

His sharp green eyes scanned the table, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “You guys didn’t have to go all out,” he referred to the food laid meticulously. 

“Armin did it,” Jean said, nudging him with his elbow.

Armin shrugged modestly. “It’s nothing. I just thought we could use a decent meal before the day starts.”

Eren chuckled, taking his seat at the table. “Well, it looks great. Thanks, Armin.”

The rest thanked him too before the four of them settled in, the camaraderie between them palpable, a brief respite before the chaos of training new recruits began. Steam curled lazily from their teacups, the faint aroma of roasted barley wafting through the air. A simple breakfast of rice, pickled vegetables, and grilled fish lay before them, offering a small comfort amidst the tension of impending war.

Eren leaned back slightly, cradling his teacup as he gazed out of the open tent flap. His friends sat around him, quietly eating, listening to Armin’s ideas. Jean ate methodically, his tall frame hunched over the table, and adding his own ideas to Armin’s while Connie was more focused on making jokes about how “military rations never tasted this good.”

The sound of footsteps on gravel broke the calm. 

Second Lieutenant Floch Forster approached, his bright red hair catching the light as he entered the tent. He stood at attention, holding a scroll tied with a simple string.

“Captain Yeager,” Floch announced as he saluted. Eren swallowed his food while he waved his hand at him, making him relax. “The first list of conscripts has arrived. These are the men from the nearby villages who’ve already reported in.”

Eren nodded, setting his teacup down with a soft clink. “Thank you, Floch.”

“Yes, Sir,” Floch bowed deeply, placed the scroll on the table, and retreated without another word, heading back to his post outside.

Eren untied the string, unfurling the scroll and scanning the names. His eyes moved quickly over the handwritten list, noting the ages and occupations of the new recruits. As expected, it wasn’t a large group—mostly farmhands and laborers from nearby villages. Still, every name on that list represented a life about to be upended.

“Not too many to start,” Eren murmured, passing the scroll to Armin, who accepted it with a nod. “That’s good. It’ll give us a chance to set the tone before the main wave arrives.”

Armin placed the scroll beside his plate, reading it between bites of rice. “Mostly younger men. That’s a relief. It’ll be easier to train them if they’re still fit from fieldwork.”

“Yeah, but they’ll probably be scared out of their minds,” Jean added, reaching for the scroll after Armin was done. He scanned it briefly, his sharp features softening into a thoughtful expression. “No one signs up for this kind of thing willingly.”

“True,” Connie chimed in, leaning over to grab the scroll from Jean. “But it’s not like they had a choice. Still, I hope we get at least a few who know how to hold a sword without slicing their own foot off.”

The table erupted in quiet laughter, a brief moment of levity.

Connie skimmed the list quickly before setting it aside, grabbing another piece of fish. “Well, whether they’re ready or not, they’re ours now. Guess we better make sure they survive long enough to hate us for it.”

Eren smirked, his usual stern demeanor softening. “It’s our job to make sure they don’t just survive, Connie. They’re going to fight, and they’re going to win.”

The group fell into a comfortable rhythm, eating and talking as the morning light grew brighter. The tension of the day ahead lingered, but for now, they allowed themselves this moment of camaraderie.

As the breakfast wound down, Eren’s gaze drifted back to the scroll. These names were more than just ink on paper—they were the lives of men who would soon entrust their futures to him and his lieutenants. He couldn’t afford to fail them.

Draining the last of his tea, Eren placed the empty cup on the table and stood. “All right, let’s get to it. Today’s the first step, and we’re going to make it count.”

The others rose with him, their laughter fading into focused determination. The calm of breakfast was over. Now, it was time to lead. And though Eren knew the path ahead would be grueling, with men he trusted by his side, he believed they could face it all.

A couple of days later, Eren walked through the grounds with a commanding presence, his shoulders squared and his gait steady. His sharp gaze swept across the clusters of men scattered about, listening intently—or not so intently—to his Lieutenants’ instructions.

Armin stood with his group of recruits, his voice calm and steady as he demonstrated stances for hand-to-hand combat. "Keep your weight centered. Balance is everything in a fight. If you overextend, you're done for." He motioned for a lanky teenager to try, gently correcting his posture when he faltered.

Eren paused nearby, observing his best friend’s teaching with a mix of pride and relief. Armin had a natural ability to connect with people, his calm demeanor inspiring trust even among the most uncertain recruits.

Elsewhere, Jean was demonstrating basic sword techniques, his deep voice carrying easily over the din. His precise movements left little doubt about his skill, and the men in his group followed suit with varying degrees of success. Connie, meanwhile, kept things light in his group, demonstrating survival techniques and cracking jokes that had the recruits laughing in between drills.

Eren sighed, glancing upward. The recruits were raw—some barely more than boys, others grizzled older men whose stamina would need serious work. Still, he didn’t lose hope. He’d been in their shoes once, a scrawny kid with more determination than skill. What had molded him was starting young and being tempered by the fires of war.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots pounding against the dirt. He turned to see Floch jogging toward him, his expression urgent. Floch stopped a few paces away, straightened, and gave a sharp salute. “Captain Yaeger, sir!”

Eren nodded. “Report.”

“The watchtower soldiers spotted a flag approaching the camp, sir.” Floch paused, catching his breath before continuing. “It’s the flag of the Army’s General.”

Eren’s eyes widened slightly. “The General?”

“Yes, sir. He’ll be arriving shortly.”

Eren inhaled deeply, steadying himself. He wasn’t expecting a visit from the General—certainly not this soon. His mind raced with possibilities. Was this an inspection? A briefing? Or something more pressing? 

Regardless, it was a moment to make an impression, for better or worse.

“Thank you, Floch,” Eren said with a nod. “Inform the Lieutenants. If they notice my absence, let them know I’ll be at the command tent with the General.”

“Yes, sir!” Floch saluted again before jogging off to deliver the message.

Eren turned on his heel, his boots crunching against the dirt as he made his way toward the command tent. His strides were purposeful, but his heart pounded in anticipation. He straightened his already impeccable uniform, smoothing out any creases.

By the time he reached the command tent, the tension in his chest had subsided, replaced by a calm determination. 

The soft rustle of fabric echoed through the command tent as the flap was pushed aside, allowing a cool breeze to flutter in. Eren’s gaze sharpened as he stood at attention, saluting. 

"General, sir," he greeted, his tone steady but filled with a respectful reverence that he rarely showed anyone else. His heart gave an unexpected jolt as the figure of the General strode into the tent, followed closely by his two First Lieutenants, Keith Shadis and Hannes.

General Grisha Yeager, a man known across the country for his resolute leadership, his presence alone commanded the air to still. His dark hair, graying slightly at the temples, glaring green eyes, and sharp features only added to his commanding aura. His Lieutenants were just as imposing, standing at perfect attention at either side of the entrance to guard it, their stern faces betraying nothing of the conversation that was about to unfold.

Eren stood rooted to the spot, a mixture of pride and anxiety swirling in his chest. His father’s footsteps echoed heavily as Grisha crossed the room. 

“Captain Yaeger,” Grisha’s voice was firm but calm, with an almost fatherly edge to it despite the formality. “At ease.”

Eren let out a quiet breath and dropped his salute, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he lowered his stance. He gestured toward the table, his words respectful but filled with a subtle eagerness. “Would you like some tea, sir?”

Grisha paused, his sharp gaze meeting Eren’s for a moment. Then he nodded as if approving of the gesture.

“Yes, please.”

Eren quickly moved to the low table, pouring the tea with careful precision, making sure to offer it exactly as he had been taught. His hands trembled slightly, the act of serving his father always filling him with an odd sense of both reverence and uncertainty. He placed the cup before Grisha with a soft clink, then took his own seat across from him, offering a small but polite bow of his head.

Grisha took the cup without hesitation, studying his son for a brief moment before taking a measured sip. Eren watched quietly, his mind racing with countless questions. What had brought his father to camp? What was his assessment of the situation? Was he proud of his son’s leadership, or was this an unspoken test?

“You’re doing well–the camp looks well and I like the idea of splitting men into groups, Captain,” Grisha said finally, his tone calm, his gaze unwavering as he looked at his son over the rim of his cup. “But there is much more to be done. The mobilization is only the beginning. Are you ready for what comes next?”

Eren’s throat tightened slightly, but he nodded, resolute. “Yes, sir.”

The two Lieutenants stood quietly by the entrance, unmoving, allowing the conversation to unfold in its own time. Hannes, always the more relaxed of the two, occasionally cast a brief glance at Eren, but said nothing. Keith Shadis, on the other hand, stood like a statue—his expression unreadable.

The quiet tension in the room was thick, but the tea warmed the air as father and son continued their exchange.

Grisha’s expression softened, and, to Eren’s surprise, a warm gleam shone in his eyes. The general placed his cup down and looked at Eren with a gentleness that was seldom seen outside their family home.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Grisha said, his voice low yet filled with quiet pride. “I know I haven’t had the chance to say it properly, with everything going on. But this promotion... it’s well deserved. You’ve earned every bit of it.”

Eren’s composed demeanor wavered for a moment, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes. He hadn’t expected such words from his father, especially not here, amid the rigorous duties of his role. A slight smile pulled at his lips as he nodded in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, sir,” Eren replied, a glimmer of emotion evident in his voice. He knew his father’s pride was not easily given—it was earned through hard work, discipline, and sacrifice. Hearing these words now made the weight of his responsibilities feel a bit lighter.

Grisha held Eren’s gaze for a moment longer, then took another sip of his tea. The tent fell into a comfortable silence, and the Lieutenants, standing nearby, allowed a faint smile to cross his own faces as they observed the scene. This wasn’t just a visit from the general—it was a father acknowledging the path his son was carving for himself, one that he himself had walked years before.

After a moment, Grisha shifted, his tone returning to the matter at hand. “Now,” he said, placing his cup on the table with purpose. “We do have business to attend to, and I’m afraid it’s urgent. This war will demand every ounce of strength from you and your men.”

Eren straightened, all softness leaving his gaze. The brief respite of family warmth faded, but the pride he felt lingered, strengthening his resolve for the duty that lay ahead.

After laying out the training plans for the new recruits and discussing strategies, the meeting concluded. Grisha and Eren rose from their seats, and Eren followed closely behind him as they made their way to the tent’s exit. But just as they reached the tent flaps, Grisha paused and turned back to face Eren.

In an uncharacteristic gesture, Grisha pulled his son into a tight embrace. Eren stiffened at first, caught off guard by the rare display of affection, but he quickly softened, allowing himself to lean into the embrace. As he wrapped his arms around his father, he felt Grisha’s hand gently pat his back.

In a low voice, Grisha whispered, “I love you, son. And I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

Eren’s throat tightened, his usual stoic composure crumbling for a brief moment. He closed his eyes, letting himself savor the warmth of his father’s hug—something he hadn’t felt in years. He whispered back, his voice thick with gratitude, “Thank you, Father.”

The General’s Lieutenants, standing nearby, caught the exchange out of the corner of their eye. A faint smile tugged at the edges of their lips, and with respectful discretion, they looked away, pretending not to notice. For a moment, there was no General, no Captain—just a father and son taking solace in each other’s presence amid the looming shadow of war.

Grisha finally released Eren, placing a firm hand on his shoulder as he met his son’s gaze one last time. “Be careful, Eren,” he murmured, his tone filled with an unspoken plea.

Eren nodded, his voice steady once again. “You too, Father.”

With that, Grisha and his Lieutenants exited the tent, the fabric flaps falling closed behind them. Eren stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed tent entrance, feeling the familiar weight of his duties return. Yet, a renewed strength lingered within him, fueled by his father’s words and their rare embrace.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the day ahead. The path was hard, but knowing his father’s pride was with him made every challenge seem just a bit more bearable.

Days stretched into nights, and still, a handful of conscripts had yet to arrive. Eren wasn’t surprised—he knew that some men had to travel from distant, isolated villages. But even with the current numbers, he felt the pressure mounting. With the war, every soldier needed to be ready, and as he evaluated the recruits day by day, it became evident they had a long way to go.

Determined to make the best of the time they had, Eren and his Lieutenants threw themselves into the training. The drills were relentless, pushing the new soldiers to the edge of their endurance. Each day began before dawn, with Captain Yeager leading by example, sparing no one from the rigorous demands of training, including himself.

Yet, despite their best efforts, progress was frustratingly slow. Late each evening, as the last recruits stumbled off to their tents, Eren and his Lieutenants would gather in the command tent, slumping over maps and scribbled notes. Armin brought new ideas, Jean proposed improvements to endurance drills, and Connie suggested tactical simulations, but each plan seemed to fall short of the intense progress they needed. Fatigue settled heavily on their shoulders as they worked through the night, reworking strategy after strategy in their pursuit of a breakthrough that eluded them.

One particularly long evening, as the flickering lantern light cast shadows over their tired faces, Eren rubbed his temples and sighed deeply. He looked around at his Lieutenants, who sat just as weary but determined, unwilling to yield to the seemingly insurmountable task ahead.

"We need a miracle," Jean muttered, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

Armin nodded, his usual sharp eyes dim with exhaustion. “We’re running out of time.”

Eren, despite his exhaustion, squared his shoulders and nodded. "We’re not giving up," he said, his voice a low, steady reassurance. "If we have to stay up every night, we will. We’ll keep pushing. These men are counting on us, and so is the Empire."

With renewed, if not tired, resolve, they returned to the drawing board. The nights were long and the progress slow, but Eren was unwilling to yield.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the training grounds, illuminating the soldiers as they sparred in pairs, their movements growing more fluid and coordinated with each passing day. Eren walked along the edges of the field, his eyes scanning each group carefully. His pulse quickened with each step, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

The men were nearly at full strength now—just a handful of new recruits still filtering in. Eren could feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, but today there was a sense of relief in him. The visit from his father had cleared much of the doubt that had clouded his mind. Eren’s father had praised his leadership, offered tips, and reassured him that he was on the right path.

It had been days since that meeting, and with every day that passed, Eren’s confidence in his ability to lead had grown. His father's approval had done more than just lift his spirits—it had given him clarity on what kind of leader he needed to be. And as he watched the soldiers train, he knew they were getting stronger, more united. They were ready for what was to come.

Armin’s group was the first Eren approached, the young Lieutenant walking between pairs of men sparring, his hands raised every so often to correct a stance or offer advice. Eren watched for a moment, taking in the sharpness of his friend’s commands. The men were beginning to get it—they were starting to think on their feet, learning the discipline they needed to survive.

Armin turned toward him and gave a small nod, his expression focused as he signaled for two men to break from their sparring. He walked toward Eren, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Captain,” Armin greeted, his voice low but full of determination. “They’re doing better. Still need some work, but we’re getting there.”

Eren smiled, feeling a surge of pride for his best friend. “You’ve been working them hard.”

Armin grinned, his blue eyes glinting with the usual excitement he brought to everything he did. “If I didn’t, they wouldn’t learn fast enough. But, yeah, they’re getting stronger.”

Eren gave him a nod of approval before moving on to Jean’s group, which was on the far side of the field. Jean stood at the front of his men, his hands on his hips as he yelled at a few of the recruits, “The enemy’s not going to wait for you to figure out how to swing a sword! Focus, or you’ll be left behind!”

Jean’s voice rang out as sharp as ever, his imposing stature adding authority to his words. Eren knew Jean had a way with people, especially when it came to getting them to understand the gravity of the situation. Jean wasn’t afraid to be harsh, and it was exactly what the recruits needed.

Eren took a moment to assess Jean’s group—most of them were fully engaged, sparring with each other in pairs. They still had some rough edges, but Eren could see they were beginning to form the foundation they needed. It wouldn’t be long before they’d be ready for their next phase of training.

He had intended to check on Connie’s group next, but he knew they were out in the woods today. Connie had always preferred a more hands-on approach to training. The outdoors was his domain, and Eren trusted him completely to teach the men how to survive in the wilderness.

As Eren turned back toward Armin’s group, he decided it was time to pitch in and help his friend out. He walked toward Armin, who was now stopping one of the recruits to demonstrate a correct stance. But before Eren could reach him, Floch jogged up beside him, carrying a scroll in his hand.

“Captain,” Floch said, bowing slightly, “the morning report is in.”

Eren took the scroll and gave it a quick glance, scanning the contents as he walked alongside Floch. “What’s the news?”

“More of the recruits have arrived—just a few left to come in, we estimate by tonight they’ll arrive. The watchtower spotted a few more men approaching the camp as we speak,” Floch reported, his voice steady and efficient. “Also, the scouts returned from the west and confirmed that the enemy is still mobilizing, but it looks like they’re focusing more on their own preparations than moving toward the Capital for now.”

Eren nodded, his mind quickly processing the information. "Good to know. Let’s make sure we’re prepared for when they do decide to move. They won’t wait forever."

Floch nodded in agreement, and they continued walking toward Armin, who was now working with a couple of the men to adjust their posture in a sparring match.

Eren felt a surge of determination as he looked out over the men. They were ready. Slowly, but surely, they were becoming the soldiers they needed to be. And in that moment, Eren knew that he wouldn’t let them down—he couldn’t. Not while they had come this far.

The next morning, Eren rose before dawn, following his familiar routine: a brief meditation by the lake, where he gathered his thoughts and prepared for the day ahead. By now, the camp was a second home, and each morning felt like the start of a small battle. He hoped today would bring a turning point.

As he headed toward camp, he saw Armin jogging over, his expression bright with relief.

“Eren,” Armin called out, holding a scroll in his hand. “The last of our recruits arrived last night.”

Eren straightened up and exhaled a relieved breath, the tension in his shoulders easing. “That’s a relief,” he muttered. Two hundred men, plus the Captain and three Lieutenants—full strength. They were finally where they needed to be.

Armin smiled slightly, though his usual enthusiasm seemed subdued. “I’m glad, too. It’s been a long road, but we’re ready.”

Eren nodded, giving Armin a brief, appreciative glance before starting to walk back down the hill. The camp wasn’t far, and they had a lot to do today. The new troops would need to be drilled hard to ensure they were ready for the inevitable conflict ahead. As they approached the camp, however, something unusual caught Eren’s attention—a loud commotion coming from the direction of the kitchen.

The two men exchanged a quick, concerned look before quickening their pace. As they drew closer, the sound of shouting and grunting grew louder. Eren’s eyes narrowed, his temper flaring up instantly. He recognized the sounds—this wasn’t just a minor disagreement. 

It was a full-on brawl.

“Armin, what the hell is going on?” Eren muttered under his breath, already seething.

Armin’s brow furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He had a sinking feeling about what was happening. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet it’s my group. They’re supposed to be eating breakfast.” 

As they rounded the corner near the kitchen, the sight that greeted them only made Eren’s blood boil further. Armin’s group was grappling with each other, throwing punches and shoving each other into the dirt. A few men were standing by, egging the fight on, while others tried to break it up but were too slow to act. The kitchen staff had wisely retreated, watching from a distance.

“Dammit,” Eren growled, his fists clenched in frustration. His patience was running thin, and his men weren’t making it any easier.

Armin’s eyes widened, and he muttered, “What the hell…”

Without a second thought, Eren marched forward, his heavy footsteps growing louder as he neared the chaos. His jaw was set, his mind already calculating the best way to restore order. Armin quickly followed behind, his brow furrowed with worry, but also prepared to intervene.

Before they could reach the edge of the fight, Eren raised his hand, signaling Armin to stop. Armin instinctively looked at his friend, knowing Eren’s temper all too well. The Captain was livid—and when Eren was angry, there was no predicting how he would handle things.

Eren didn’t hesitate. 

He raised his thumb and forefinger to his lips, pulled in a deep breath, and blew a sharp, piercing whistle.

The sound was like a crack of thunder, cutting through the air with a force that made even Armin flinch and instinctively cover one ear. The men froze, their eyes wide as they heard the sound. The fight came to an abrupt halt as they all turned to face the Captain, who stood tall and glaring with intense fury.

“ENOUGH!” Eren shouted, his voice booming across the camp. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

The men, still stunned by the whistle and the force behind Eren’s voice, scrambled to get back to their feet and stand at attention for their Captain. The tension in the air was palpable. The once-chaotic scene suddenly turned into an awkward silence.

Armin stood beside Eren, his expression unreadable, but the exhaustion from his own frustration with his men was clear. Eren didn’t wait for anyone to speak. 

“You’re soldiers, not animals!” Eren continued, his voice steady but harsh. “There’s no place for this nonsense here. This isn’t a damn playground, and I won’t tolerate behavior like this in my camp. Do I make myself clear?!”

The men stood even straighter, the weight of Eren’s words sinking in. The Captain was known for his discipline, and even the toughest recruits knew better than to cross him.

Eren’s sharp eyes scanned the assembled group of men, his icy glare cutting through the tension. The recruits shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, their breaths shallow, their shoulders stiff. They knew better than to speak, but the weight of Eren’s fury made it impossible to stay entirely still.

“Who started this?” Eren demanded, his voice low but filled with authority.

Silence. 

The men glanced at one another nervously, some trying to avoid eye contact altogether. 

Finally, one recruit summoned what courage he had and raised a trembling hand to point at someone. “It was him,” he said, his voice unsteady as he gestured toward a scrawny young man sprawled on the ground, dirt and blood smeared across his face.

Eren’s glare snapped to the snitch, and the man immediately regretted his decision. “So, you thought it would be smart to throw your comrade under the carriage, did you?” Eren barked, stepping closer. “Let me make something perfectly clear to all of you—You’re one troop now. If one of you messes up, it reflects on all of you. It reflects on me—There is no room for finger-pointing in my camp.”

The man’s face paled, and he shrank back into the group without another word, realizing that the Captain tested him. The rest of the men shifted uneasily, the gravity of Eren’s words sinking in. Eren’s gaze swept over them once more, ensuring the message had been received before turning his attention to the young man still on the ground.

The group parted like a wave, stepping away from the accused. 

The young man, clearly shaken, wiped his bloody nose with the back of his hand and squinted up at the towering figure of the Captain.

Eren’s boots crunched against the dirt as he marched closer, his presence oppressive. “Stand up,” he ordered.

The young man scrambled to his feet, though he wobbled unsteadily. He barely reached Eren’s shoulder, his thin frame emphasizing just how out of place he looked among the rest of the recruits. Eren’s icy glare didn’t waver as he stood inches away from the trembling figure. “Name,” Eren barked.

“M-Miko, sir,” the young man stammered, his voice oddly deep. He gulped and straightened as best he could, clearly trying to muster some semblance of composure under the Captain’s piercing gaze.

Eren frowned, his instincts immediately picking up suspicion. “Last name and place of origin.”

“Ackerman, from Shiganshina, sir,” ‘Miko’ replied, his voice squeaking slightly as he spoke.

Eren’s frown deepened.

Ackerman? 

The name immediately caught his attention. 

As far as he knew, there were only two Ackerman men in Shiganshina—and how does he know? Because he won’t admit it but he was excited to see the last name Ackerman in his list.

He knew about the famous family members, Kenny and Levi. 

He was more excited when he got assigned to the Paradis Province, where those Ackermans live—well, one of them lives. 

Kenny, who had long since passed, and Levi, who had retired from active duty due to his injuries. So the idea of a third Ackerman was suspicious, to say the least. (Well, at least what the census data says.)

“Ackerman?” Eren frowned, staring down at this man. “Kenny Ackerman only had one son, and that son is named Levi–I’ve only seen him from afar, and while you do hold a resemblance—I was under the impression that he is a little bit older than you look,” Eren said, his tone cold and scrutinizing. “Explain.”

Miko’s eyes darted nervously, his thin veneer of confidence cracking. “Kenny, my father, had an illegitimate son,” he said hastily. “He never talked about me—but I exist, as you can see. And since Levi... well, since Levi wouldn’t have been much help given his injuries, I decided to take his place. Someone had to.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing while Armin, standing behind him, crossed his arms and regarded ‘Miko’ with the same skepticism. The story was flimsy at best, and Miko’s nervous demeanor wasn’t helping his case. Still, Eren couldn’t help but give the man a sliver of credit—standing upright under his infamous icy glare took guts, no matter how foolish the man might be.

Eren leaned closer, his voice a low growl. “You’ve got nerve coming here, claiming to be an Ackerman. I’ll be watching you, Miko. Every move you make. If you so much as step out of line again, you’ll bring shame to the highly regarded Ackerman name when I send you back home.”

Miko swallowed hard, visibly, but managed a shaky nod. “Y-yes, Captain.”

Eren straightened, his eyes sweeping back over the rest of the group. “As for the rest of you,” he said, his voice rising, “you’re not off the hook. You’re all responsible for this mess too. Your punishment will be immediate and fitting. You’ll do your morning routine twice. Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before letting things get out of hand.”

Turning to Armin, Eren gave a curt nod. “Start their punishment now.”

Armin didn’t hesitate, stepping forward with his usual calm authority. “Everyone, into formation!” he barked. “You’ll be running laps until I’m satisfied you’ve learned your lesson. Move!”

The men groaned collectively but scrambled to obey, knowing better than to protest. As they began their laps, Eren watched Miko be left standing in the middle of the group, the weight of every glare from his comrades bearing down on him. The scrawny man’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he held his ground, knowing there was no escaping the consequences of his actions.

Eren stood back, watching the men begin their grueling punishment. His expression was unreadable, but Armin could tell his friend was still seething beneath the surface. As the last of the recruits jogged off (Miko), Eren turned on his heel and walked away without another word, leaving Armin to oversee the punishment. For now, his focus was on ensuring this kind of chaos never happened again.

He knows stature or build didn’t matter—you could still have skills regardless. 

But something about this ‘Miko’ made him scratch his head.

Chapter Text

Days ago…

The sun hung high in the sky, bathing the small farm in golden light. Mikasa worked with a lightness in her step, humming softly as she watered the rows of vibrant green crops. Her worries from weeks ago had faded into the background like shadows chased away by dawn. The incident with Ms. Hannah was all but forgotten, and she found solace in the steady rhythm of farm life. Her brother had finally relented to her decision to let fate guide her future, even if he had done so with a dramatic roll of his eye.

She chuckled at the memory and moved to the next row, gathering water in the ladle and pouring water onto the crops, to let the water flow evenly over the thirsty soil. The peaceful moment was interrupted by a distant but unmistakable sound—a trumpet blaring, sharp and commanding. It was quickly followed by the thunder of hooves pounding against the earth.

Mikasa frowned as she turned toward the source of the commotion, obviously coming from outside the estate. Then, clear as day, came the booming voice of a man, amplified to reach every ear.

“By decree of the Emperor, all citizens are to gather in the town square immediately for an important announcement!” The man shouted, seemed to be being followed, or following, a small group as they galloped to town.

Mikasa’s brow furrowed, her curiosity instantly piqued. She set the vase of water down carefully and brushed the dampness from her hands. 

What could this be about? 

She glanced toward the stable, already moving before she made the conscious decision.

The urgency in the soldier’s voice left no room for hesitation. She reached the stable quickly, her heart pounding in rhythm with the fading hoofbeats. Titan neighed softly at her approach, his large, expressive eyes seeming to question her haste.

“Easy, Titan,” she murmured, reaching up to stroke his neck. “We need to head to town. Something’s happening.”

She worked quickly, retrieving his saddle and reins. Her hands were steady, but her mind raced with possibilities. It wasn’t often that the Emperor’s soldiers rode into their quiet village with such fanfare. 

Whatever this was, it had to be significant.

Once Titan was ready, Mikasa led him out of the stable and from the estate, swung herself into the saddle with practiced ease once closing the gate. She guided him into the path, her thoughts a whirlwind as they trotted toward the town. 

As she approached the outskirts of the town, she saw others making their way toward the square. Farmers, shopkeepers, and children trailed behind carts and wagons, all drawn by the same irresistible summons. Mikasa urged Titan into a brisk canter, weaving through the gathering crowd until she reached the square.

The space was already filling with townsfolk, their murmurs blending into a low, anxious buzz. At the center of it all stood a raised platform, where a group of soldiers in pristine uniforms stood at attention, and two still on horses in front of the platform, on guard. One of them, standing on the platform, held a scroll, its edges glinting with golden trim.

Mikasa dismounted and tied Titan to a post, patting his neck reassuringly. Her feet carried her closer to the edge of the crowd as the soldier with the scroll stepped forward, his voice ringing out with the authority of someone used to being heard.

“By order of His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor,” he began, his tone solemn and commanding, “all provinces under the crown are to prepare for general mobilization. A state of war has been declared.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd like a stone dropped into still water. Mikasa felt her breath catch as the weight of his words sank in. 

War?

The soldier continued, his voice unwavering, despite the obvious fear of the declaration of war from the townspeople. “Every family must provide one man under the age of forty to serve in the Imperial Army. The names will be registered and verified by your local officials within the week. This measure is vital to ensure the unity and strength of our great nation in the face of this threat.”

The crowd erupted into murmurs and whispers, faces turning toward one another in disbelief and apprehension as Mikasa’s mind raced. She knew of the wars from stories told by her father, Levi, and the older villagers, but she had never imagined it would reach their quiet corner of the world.

As the announcement concluded, the soldiers began to answer questions from the crowd, who were rightfully concerned. Mikasa felt a pang of worry since her first thought was of Levi. Would he be called upon? Would they dare conscript him in his condition? She bit her lip, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

But she quickly remembered what Levi had once told her: ‘We Ackermans are fighters. It’s in our blood.’ 

Making a shiver ran through her. 

Then, the soldier in the center of the platform stepped forward again, this time holding another scroll. The crowd’s murmur died down, replaced by an almost tangible tension that hung in the air like a storm about to break. Mikasa stood rooted near the edge of the throng, her heart pounding, hoping her last name wouldn’t get yelled. 

Something in her gut told her she needed to hear this.  

The soldier cleared his throat, his voice sharp and loud. “By decree of His Imperial Majesty, we will now announce the names of the families to fulfill the conscription order. Again, each family will send one male under the age of forty–If more than one eligible male resides in the household, the family may decide among themselves who will serve. Failure to report will result in penalty and shame on the family.”

The crowd gasped and Mikasa’s stomach twisted as she clutched her skirt tightly, her knuckles white.

’Surely, they wouldn’t summon Levi. They know about his injuries, right? He couldn’t possibly be of use in battle, not in his cane, missing body parts, and his damaged leg.’ 

But as quickly as the thought came, doubt followed. 

The soldier continued, unrolling the scroll with deliberate precision. His voice rang out across the square, cold and emotionless. “As I call your family name, one representative must step forward to confirm their attendance and receive the details from the designated officer within the scroll.”

Mikasa’s heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear the first few names. She looked around, desperate to find Levi among the sea of faces. Her brother had been selling their crops in the square earlier—he couldn’t be far. But despite craning her neck and shifting to her tiptoes, she couldn’t see him.  

Her panic rose, clawing at her chest. ’Where is he?’ she thought to herself as she keeps looking around. 

The men summoned, pridely stepped from the crowd to receive their scroll from the soldiers on the horses. The murmurs and whispers grew louder as families began to exchange worried glances–parents, wives, and children worried for the beloved men in their lives. 

Then the soldier’s voice rang out with a name that made the air in Mikasa’s lungs vanish.  

“ Ackerman Family .”  

The sound of it struck her like a hammer as her legs felt like they might give out, her vision narrowed while feeling like the world around her was crumbling. She was frozen, unable to move or even breathe.  

The crowd stirred, whispers rippling through the square.  

“Levi Ackerman?”  

“Levi? But he’s injured. What could he possibly—”  

“I thought he couldn’t even walk properly anymore.”  

“No, that man could still kill a dozen soldiers with his bare hands if he had to. But still... why him?”  

The murmurs of pity stung like nettles against her skin. Mikasa barely registered them as her mind raced. ‘No. No, this can’t be happening. Not Levi.’  

Her fists clenched at her sides as fury began to mix with her panic. Did they want him dead ? Was that it? Did they care so little about his life, about what he’d already given, that they’d summon him anyway?  

She needed to find him. 

She needed to stop him. 

Mikasa shoved through the crowd, her vision blurring with panic as she scanned the mass of people. ‘Where are you, Levi? Where are you?’

But she didn’t find him. 

Instead, as if in slow motion, she saw movement from the edge of the crowd.  

Levi.  

Her brother stepped forward, his head held high, shoulders squared with quiet resolve. His usual cane was nowhere in sight, though Mikasa could see the small limp in his gait—a limp so subtle that most would have missed it. 

But Mikasa saw everything as her heart twisted painfully–Levi was her only family, the only person she had left.  

The murmurs around her grew louder as Levi made his way through the crowd, cutting through the sea of faces like a knife while people whispered his name with awe and pity.  

“He’s going? But look at him...”  

“Levi Ackerman? The Army should know better.”  

“That’s an Ackerman. Injuries or not, they’re probably counting on him to take down half an army.”  

Mikasa clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She couldn’t let this happen. The Army couldn’t have her brother, not after everything he’d already endured.  

As Levi reached the front of the square, the soldier on horseback held out the scroll to him. The sun glinted off the polished armor, his expression impassive as he announced, “Ackerman, you will report to Captain—”  

“ I’LL GO INSTEAD OF MY BROTHER! ”  

The words tore from Mikasa’s throat, loud and raw, silencing the square. Heads turned toward her, shock rippling through the crowd as whispers rose like waves.  

“What is she doing?!”  

“She’s a woman! She can’t just speak out of place!”  

“There she goes again. A nuisance for the Ackerman Family.”  

But Mikasa didn’t care. 

She shoved through the onlookers, ignoring the dirty looks and startled protests as she forced her way to the front. Her dark eyes were blazing with desperation and determination.  

“ I’ll go!” she yelled again, planting herself between–a stunned–Levi and the soldier. “I’ll take his place!”  

The soldier on horseback narrowed his eyes, his expression twisting into disdain. He yanked the reins, causing his horse to rear slightly, and then moved it forward to stand towering over Mikasa to try and scare her.

Yet she didn’t flinch.  

“Step back!” the soldier barked, his voice harsh. “You have no place here. You are a woman. This is not your war to fight!”  

Mikasa refused to back down, even as the horse’s hooves thudded dangerously close to her. “Please, listen to me! My brother—he’s injured! He can’t fight this war, but I can!”  

The soldier growled, leaning forward in the saddle. “You’re out of line. Return to your place before you’re dragged out of here.”  

“ No !” she cried, her voice cracking. “You don’t understand. He’s all I have! If he goes—if you send him—you’re sending him to his death!”  

The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, a mix of pity, anger, and curiosity. But before Mikasa could plead further, a sharp voice cut through the noise like a whip.  

“Mikasa. Enough .”  

The crowd fell silent. 

Levi’s tone was low, cold, and final, carrying a weight that made even the soldier hesitate.  

Mikasa turned to look at her brother, who was now glaring at her with a fury that could freeze fire. His sharp, blue eye pinned her in place, his jaw tight with barely restrained anger.  

“Go home,” Levi said, his voice icy.  

Mikasa stood her ground, her chest heaving. “No, Levi! You can’t do this! How can you—”  

“ Go . Home .”  

The finality in his tone made the air around them feel heavier that even the soldier on horseback shifted uncomfortably, clearly recognizing the infamous Ackerman glare.  

Mikasa stared at her brother, having a deadly glare of her own, yet her heart was breaking. She wanted to argue, to scream, to beg him to listen. But Levi’s expression was like stone, immovable and unyielding. She knew that look—once he made a decision, there was no changing his mind.  

Her hands trembled at her sides as tears pricked her eyes. She took a shaky step back, her voice barely above a whisper. “Levi, please—”  

“ Now , Mikasa.”  

Her fists clenched as she glared at him one last time, her own stubbornness clashing with his. But she knew she had lost. 

With a frustrated growl, she spun on her heel and stormed off, shoving past the crowd once more.  

She didn’t stop until she reached where Titan was waiting, throwing herself onto the saddle with shaking hands, and urged him into a gallop. The wind whipped at her face, but it couldn’t chase away the image of Levi standing there, resolute and unbending.  

As she rode toward home, Mikasa’s mind raced. She couldn’t let this happen. One way or another, she would find a way to protect her brother. 

Even if it meant defying the entire Imperial Army.

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the soft rustle of the wind outside. Levi trudged through the door, his movements slow and deliberate. He’d just finished putting the wagon away and seeing to the horse, but the weight of the day clung to him like a heavy cloak.  

The dim light of the lantern in the main room cast long shadows on the walls as he set his coat aside and glanced toward Mikasa’s door. 

It was shut tightly, the room lacked its usual warm light coming from it.

A clear message. 

She was furious with him.  

Levi sighed and closed his eyelids briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t blame her for being upset, not after the scene in the square, but he couldn’t let her take his place, it was foolish . 

And it’s not like he could just not go, he had to go–he was ordered to–she needed to understand this.   

Still, it gnawed at him, the thought of leaving things like this. He stepped closer to her door, hesitating for a moment before speaking in a calm, even tone.  

“I’m going to make dinner,” he said. “You’re welcome to join me.”  

He lingered, waiting for some kind of response, but none came. The silence pressed down on him, heavy and oppressive. With another sigh, he turned and made his way to the kitchen with his cane tapping softly on the wood. 

Levi moved through the familiar routine of preparing dinner with practiced ease, though his thoughts were far from the task at hand. He couldn’t shake the feeling that these might be his last moments at home, the last time he’d share a meal with his sister.  

A few moments later, when the food was ready, he served himself and made a plate for his sister. Then, the sound of soft footsteps made him pause, his hand stilling over the plates he was setting out. He turned slightly, just in time to see Mikasa step into the kitchen, her expression unreadable.  

A wave of relief washed over him, and he let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She was here. He didn’t want to leave in the morning without spending at least a little time with her, without saying goodbye properly.  

Mikasa stopped near the doorway, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. “Do you need help?” she asked flatly, her tone lacking the warmth he was used to.  

Levi shook his head. “No. Just sit,” he replied.  

For a moment, she looked like she might argue, but instead, she nodded and took a seat at the table. She didn’t look at him as he finished plating the food, her gaze fixed somewhere distant.  

Levi joined her, setting the plates down before taking his seat across from her. The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating, as they began to eat. The clinking of utensils against plates was the only sound in the room.  

Mikasa finally broke the silence, her voice quiet but sharp. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”  

Levi’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his tone even. “I did.”  

“You’re being reckless,” she said, her voice gaining a hint of emotion. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You’ve done enough.”  

Levi set his sticks down and met her gaze, his expression calm but firm. “This isn’t about proving anything. It’s about doing what needs to be done.”  

Mikasa’s hands clenched into fists on the table. “And what about me ? What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?”  

“You’ll keep going,” Levi said simply. His voice softened slightly as he added, “You’re stronger than you think, Mikasa.”  

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she quickly looked away, refusing to let them fall. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”  

Levi sighed. He didn’t know how to make her understand. “Mikasa,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I know this isn’t easy. But I was ordered to–the Emperor declared the order, Mikasa.”  

She didn’t respond, her expression hardening as she stared down at her plate.  

The atmosphere in the small dining room was thick with tension, neither of them spoke. Mikasa’s eyes were still fixed on her bowl, the tears she had fought to hold back earlier threatening to spill again. Levi, though outwardly calm, couldn't shake the knot in his stomach. He could feel Mikasa’s anger radiating off her, and it made him restless.

He sighed, finally breaking the silence. “Mika…” he started, his voice low but firm. He met her gaze, though she refused to meet his. “I’m going. There’s nothing I can do about it. I have to go, you like it or not–stop acting like a spoiled brat.”

That was the trigger. 

Mikasa’s hands trembled as she slammed her fists on the table, the sudden loud noise startling Levi. Her eyes were wide, burning with fresh tears, but her voice was filled with rage.

“ A spoiled brat ?!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “ YOU are the one acting like one–You’re being stubborn—reckless! You’re an idiot! You’re not even capable of walking, Levi! How the hell are you going to fight?!”

Levi didn’t respond, his expression unreadable as she lashed out.

Mikasa’s voice rose, her anger breaking through the fragile calm. “You don’t have to go! The army had no right to summon you in the first place, knowing about your injuries. And you—” She jabbed a finger at his chest, her tone sharp. “You’re just letting them take you like it’s nothing! Like your life means nothing!”

Then, without warning, she stood abruptly, the cushion sliding against the floor. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she glared down at him.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions. Levi stayed silent as she kept her gaze on him. “They don’t deserve you,” Mikasa continued, her voice cracking. “You’ve done enough for this town, for me, for everyone! And now you’re going to throw it all away—for what? To fight a war? To get yourself killed? — how much do I need to repeat myself?”

Her breathing grew ragged, her chest heaving as the words tumbled out in a torrent of frustration and despair. She stood there, fists clenched, glaring at him through the haze of her tears.

Levi remained calm, his gaze steady as he waited for her to finish. When her words finally ran out and she stood panting, he asked evenly, raised a hand, silencing her with a calm but firm look. “Sit down , Mikasa,” he said.

She opened her mouth to argue, but something in his tone stopped her. Reluctantly, she sat back down, her jaw clenched tightly.

Levi settled into his seat across from her, his posture relaxed but his expression serious. “Listen to me,” he began.

Mikasa crossed her arms, glaring at him as though daring him to justify himself.

“I’m going because it’s my duty,” Levi said, his voice low but resolute. “If I refuse, there will be consequences—not just for me, but for you, too. They’ll penalize me, and our family will be shamed for it.”

Levi took a deep breath, his gaze softening. “And I know you don’t care about shame. But I care. I care about what happens to you if I’m gone, and I care about what happens to our town, our country.”

Mikasa’s glare faltered for a moment, but her lips pressed into a thin line.

Levi leaned forward slightly, his tone gentle but unwavering. “This isn’t just about me. If we lose this war, the enemy will come here, and they won’t show mercy. They’ll oppress everyone—our people, our home. I can’t stand by and let that happen.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Mikasa’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time she didn’t look away.

“This isn’t a choice I want to make,” Levi admitted quietly. “But it’s one I have to make. For you. For the chance that you might have a future where you can live peacefully, without fear.”

Mikasa’s shoulders slumped, her anger giving way to a deep, aching sadness. “You’re all I have left,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Levi reached out, his calloused hand covering hers. “And you’re all I have,” he said softly. “That’s why I’m doing this. To protect you, even if it means leaving.”

Mikasa stared at Levi for a long moment, her face a mask of anger and pain. “You’re so stubborn,” her voice breaking. “Why can’t you just admit that you’re not fit to go? That you can’t fight like you used to? That—” Her voice cracked again, and her hands trembled. “That you’re not invincible, Levi.”

He sighed deeply, closing his eyelids for a brief moment as if trying to summon the patience to deal with her continued outburst.

“Are you even listening to me? I keep repeating the same damn words,” she tightens her hand on Levi’s hold while tears streaming down her face. “Do you even care what this will do to me? If you go and don’t come back—”

Her voice faltered, but she pushed through, her anger carrying her words. “If you die out there, I’ll have nothing! Nothing , do you hear me? Why can’t you see how selfish you’re being?”

Levi’s head snapped up at that, his eyelids narrowing slightly. But he didn’t respond, letting her vent her frustration.

Mikasa’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her voice raw with emotion. “Why can’t you just fight for yourself, for once? Why does it always have to be about duty and responsibility? Do you even want to go? Or are you just doing this because you’re too proud to say no?”

Her words cut deep, and though Levi’s face remained stoic, there was a flicker of something—pain, perhaps—behind his eye.

“Mika,” he said quietly, his tone sharp enough to break through her tirade.

But she wasn’t finished. “No! Don’t Mika me! You don’t get to just sit there and act like this is some noble sacrifice or for honor!” she shouted, her voice rising again. “You’re throwing your life away, and for what? For people who don’t even care about you? Who sees you as nothing more than a weapon?”

Levi let out another sigh, leaning back slightly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you done yet?” he asked, his voice calm but tinged with weariness.

The question only seemed to fuel her anger further. “No, I’m not done!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “You’re my brother, Levi! You’re all I have left! How can you expect me to just sit here and watch you march to your death?”

The room fell silent after her outburst, save for the sound of her heavy breathing. Tears streamed freely down her face now, her anger giving way to despair.

Levi looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he stood slowly, his movements deliberate and measured. His calm demeanor only seemed to heighten Mikasa’s frustration.

“I know you’re angry,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “And I know you’re scared. But I’m not changing my mind.”

Mikasa let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling at her sides. “Why?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Levi replied simply.

His words hung heavy in the air, and Mikasa turned away, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. She didn’t say anything else, her shoulders tense and her breaths shallow.

Levi watched her for a moment, his expression softening just slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Mikasa didn’t respond. She just stood, her silence speaking volumes.

After a long silence, Mikasa finally nodded, though her expression remained pained. “I still don’t agree with you,” she murmured.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Levi replied.

As she moved past him, Levi reached out and gently caught her wrist. She froze, her back to him, before slowly turning to face him. Her dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and the sight made Levi’s chest tighten painfully.

“But I’ll be careful, Mikasa. I promise— and I’ll say goodbye in the morning before I leave.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she pulled her hand away. 

“Don’t bother. Just go since you are so eager to die.”

Levi felt a low blow, almost making him hunch down at how much her words hurt, but he told himself that she was hurt and angry, she didn’t mean those words. 

Without another word, she turned and left the kitchen, retreating to her room once more as Levi watched her go, the weight in his chest growing heavier. 

He could only hope that she would understand. 

Mikasa stormed out of the kitchen, her vision blurred by tears as she marched down the hallway. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a painful reminder of her helplessness. She reached her room and slid the door shut with more force than she intended, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet house.

Her back pressed against the closed door, she slid down slowly, burying her face in her knees. For a moment, she sat there, trembling with anger and frustration, before pushing herself up and stumbling to her bed.

She threw herself onto the mattress, clutching her pillow tightly as the tears came in full force. The sobs wracked her body, muffled by the fabric of her pillow. She felt as though the weight of the world was pressing down on her chest, the pain of losing her parents, and now the fear of losing her brother, overwhelming her all at once.

Outside, a soft patter began as a light rain fell, the droplets tapping against the roof and windows in a somber rhythm. It was as if the sky itself had decided to mourn with her, its gentle tears mixing with her own.

Mikasa curled up on her side, hugging her pillow as tightly as she could. The sound of the rain was soothing in its own way, but it couldn’t wash away the storm raging inside her.

“Why does it have to be like this?” she whispered into the pillow, her voice hoarse and broken.

She thought of Levi’s calm, unyielding face, his quiet resolve that only fueled her frustration. How could he be so calm when everything was falling apart? How could he expect her to accept this without a fight?

The rain grew heavier, the steady tapping turning into a soft drumming. Mikasa closed her eyes, letting the sound envelop her. She let herself cry, pouring all her anger, pain, and helplessness into the quiet storm.

She rolled over, staring at the ceiling through tear-filled eyes, a hollow ache settling in her chest. Levi had sacrificed enough. He’d already fought for their country, had already been through unimaginable hardship. Didn’t they know? Couldn’t they see how he limped, how he used a cane just to keep steady? How could they ignore that and demand he go once more, with so little of himself left to give?

A fresh wave of anger welled up in her, and she clenched her fists, pounding them against her bed in frustration. The injustice of it all gnawed at her, and she bit her lip, choking back a cry of rage. Tears slid down her cheeks, fierce and unrestrained.

"Please, spirits," she whispered through clenched teeth, her voice a trembling plea. "Please, gods… protect him. Don’t take him from me. Let him come home safe."

Her voice grew softer, barely audible as the words turned into a mantra. Her heart ached with a desperation that felt almost foreign, consuming her every thought. She was terrified that this time, if he left, he wouldn’t return.

She lay there for what felt like hours, pleading in whispers and sobs to whatever power might listen, hoping, praying that somehow, her brother would be spared.

Mikasa cried until she felt empty, drained of every last tear. She wasn’t sure how long she had been there, curled up and trembling on her bed, but when she finally opened her eyes, she noticed a change in the atmosphere. The room was dim, shadows stretching long, and outside, the sound of steady rain pattered against the roof, adding a hauntingly calm backdrop to the turmoil she felt within.

With a shaky breath, she sat up, wiping the last traces of tears from her face. She needed to clear her mind, even if just for a moment. She made her way down the hall, aiming to go to the bathroom to splash water on her face, when a faint glow caught her eye from the room nearby.

It was the Kamidana room—the shrine room that held their family’s relics. They rarely went in there at night; the room was usually reserved for morning prayers or special occasions.

The door was slightly open, and through the gap, she could see Levi standing there, silhouetted against the flickering light of the oil lamp. He held their father’s sword in his hand, its weight familiar in his grip. She watched as he moved fluidly, testing its balance, each stroke precise, each motion controlled. The blade glinted softly in the light as he moved, his form as disciplined and unyielding as it had been in his younger days, though perhaps just a touch slower, a touch more careful.

He hadn’t noticed her standing there. She could tell by the quiet focus in his eye that he was fully immersed, practicing old routines, reigniting his connection to a duty he felt bound to by birthright. Levi was resolute, determined to bring honor to their family once again. She realized he wasn’t doing this only for himself—he was doing it for her, to secure their family name and strengthen her own place in their world. Maybe he thought if he brought enough honor back with him, there would be no question that she would have worthy suitors, that no one would dare think she lacked anything. It was his final act of protection for her.

Mikasa felt a pang in her chest as she watched him, his expression as stoic as ever, yet she could sense the determination within him. For a brief moment, she saw not only her brother but the hardened soldier he had once been, the man who was willing to put everything on the line for their country, their town, and, most of all, for her .

Tears pricked her eyes once again, but this time, she didn’t let them fall. Instead, she took a deep breath, letting the steady rhythm of the rain calm her.

Mikasa stayed hidden in the doorway, her eyes fixed on Levi as he continued his practice. She marveled at his tenacity, the fierce pride and duty he seemed to carry like armor, even though she could see the toll it was taking on him. Just then, his movements faltered, his bad leg giving way beneath him. With a harsh grunt, Levi fell to his knees, the sword slipping from his grip and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Mikasa instinctively brought her hand to her mouth, stifling the gasp that nearly escaped her lips. She dug her toes into the floor to keep herself from rushing to his side, forcing herself to watch him instead, willing him silently to just stop, to finally recognize his limits. But Levi’s frustration was visible in the way his hands clenched the tatami , his breaths sharp and ragged. She watched him mutter a low curse, his fingers trembling as he reached out, slowly taking hold of the sword once more. His face twisted in pain, but he gritted his teeth, pulling himself back to his feet with sheer will, forcing himself to stand tall again, the weight of the blade trembling in his hand.

The pain was etched into his features, and it tore at Mikasa’s heart. She wanted nothing more than to run to him, to plead for him to stop this madness. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t bear to disrupt his struggle as he tried to wrestle control back over his own failing body. Instead, she watched, fighting back her own tears, feeling the deep ache of helplessness settle inside her.

Mikasa watched as Levi swung the sword, each strike weaker than the last. She could see the anguish tightening his expression as he pushed himself, until his leg buckled once more, sending him crashing to the ground. This time, he didn’t catch himself. Instead, he stayed down on his stomach, his breathing harsh and labored. Mikasa’s chest tightened as silent tears slipped down her cheeks, helpless against the sight of her strong, unyielding brother brought so low.

Levi let out a strangled growl, curling in on himself, his body sinking as if in a reluctant bow to some invisible weight pressing him down. After a moment, he slowly dragged himself to his knees and crawled toward the family shrine, his every movement aching with fatigue. Reaching the shrine, he bowed deeply, his head lowering in reverence as he murmured a prayer. She saw his lips moving, though his words were faint, but she could make out his pleas for strength, for courage, and above all, for protection over her.

Mikasa’s heart shattered as she heard his voice tremble , a crack in the armor she had always seen him wear so effortlessly. Levi’s voice softened to a whisper as he begged for her safety, his words a desperate appeal to any deity that would listen. In that moment, he wasn’t the warrior or the proud Ackerman heir—he was simply her brother, terrified of leaving her alone.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Mikasa turned and fled, stumbling through the darkened halls until she stepped outside, despite still wearing her socks and sleep clothes. The chill rainy night seeped through the thin fabric almost immediately, but she didn’t care.

The rain poured harder as she ran down the small path leading to the pond behind their home. Her breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, her tears mixing freely with the rain that drenched her face. She reached the pond and fell to her knees in the mud, uncaring of the wetness seeping through her clothes. The rain continued to pour, mingling with her tears as she sat alone under the sky, her heart aching for the brother she might soon lose.

Mikasa’s sobs were loud and broken, each breath a ragged cry to the heavens. The rain poured down in torrents, blurring her tears as they mingled with the cold, unforgiving water that splashed against the earth. Her eyes, bloodshot and desperate, pleaded with the sky—begging anyone who might be listening to spare her brother. The thought of losing him, of him leaving her to face the world alone, was too much to bear.

"I can’t lose you, Levi. Not now, not ever," she whispered through her tears, her voice breaking under the weight of her words. "Please, stay with me..."

She lowered her gaze to the water, watching the rain distort the surface, ripples forming and breaking the reflection of her face. Her hair, damp and heavy from the rain, stuck to her face and neck, making her appear different. She noticed the reflection of herself, her features softened in the water’s distortion, but something else caught her eye.

The rain had caused her hair to fall unevenly, making it look shorter. In that brief, fleeting moment, the image of herself in the water was unmistakably similar to Levi—the way his dark bangs often framed his face, the sharpness of his eye, the determined set of his jaw.

But as she stared at her reflection, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the pond. For a brief moment, the rippling water made her hair appear short, cropped like a boy’s.

Mikasa’s heart skipped a beat.

An idea, bold and reckless, blossomed in her mind. 

She froze, considering it for a moment, her face hardening with determination. She couldn't change her brother’s mind—she knew that much. He was too proud, too stubborn. 

But maybe… just maybe, there was another way.

She wiped her face hastily, the rain continuing to pour as she stared at the pond, her reflection shifting with each droplet. She was strong, capable, and determined. She had been training alongside Levi since she could hold a blade. She knew how to fight, how to endure.

But she would have to disguise herself as a man.

The thought made her heart race, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through her veins. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as her resolve hardened

She stood up as she turned to see the house. It was quiet. The lights were out, the house dark, as if the entire world had fallen silent. 

Perfect .

With newfound purpose, Mikasa walked back toward the house, her soaked clothes clinging to her frame and her mind racing with plans. She had no time to waste. 

Mikasa knew what she had to do. 

This was the only way to protect her brother.

Mikasa moved as quietly as possible, her footsteps barely audible against the wooden floor of the house. She shivered, not just from the cold, but from the weight of what she was about to do. She had one chance to make this work, and she wasn’t going to waste it. The house was eerily still, save for the soft sound of rain pattering against the roof, and the faint hum of wind brushing against the trees outside.

Levi’s room was just ahead. She could already feel the tension in her body, but she didn’t dare rush. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a moment, she thought she might hear it pounding in the quiet house. But she kept moving, each step deliberate, each movement purposeful. When she reached his door, she paused, holding her breath.

The light was off, a clear sign that he was already asleep. Mikasa let out a quiet exhale, relief washing over her. But the weight of the decision she was about to make still loomed over her, and she couldn’t afford to hesitate.

She slid the door open, just enough to slip inside, and closed it silently behind her. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and there, in the shadows of his room, was Levi—peacefully sleeping. His breathing was steady and calm as if he had no care in the world. Mikasa almost couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing what she was about to do, knowing the enormity of the choice she was making.

She tiptoed to the bedside table, her wet socks muffling her steps as her heart pounded so loudly it felt like it would wake him, but she forced herself to stay calm. 

There it was—the conscription scroll. 

She reached for her pendant, a simple silver "A" that gleamed faintly in the moonlight. It was a tradition for every Ackerman child to receive one at birth, and they had never taken it off. The thought of doing so now made her throat tighten, but she needed Levi to understand.

Clutching the pendant tightly, Mikasa took a deep, shaky breath. She carefully unfastened it, the chain cool against her damp skin. Her fingers lingered on the silver charm for a moment as she reached for the scroll with trembling hands, her resolve hardening as her fingers closed around it. Placing the neckalce right where the scroll had been.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she glanced at her brother one last time. He had done so much for her—now it was her turn to protect him.

She stood for a moment, staring at the necklace on the table, and then slowly, she turned to leave. 

But something—an unexplainable urge—stopped her, to say her farewell, probably forever to her brother. 

She glanced back at Levi, watching him as he lay there, asleep in the moonlight. 

“I’m sorry, Levi,” she whispered so softly that her voice was barely audible. “Thank you for everything. I promise I’ll make you proud–goodbye, brother.”

Mikasa’s eyes softened, tears threatening to spill, but she fought them back. She couldn’t cry. Not now. Not when she was doing this for him. She took one last, long look at him. He deserved a life, a future, everything. He deserved to find peace, love, and a life of his own. He was a hero, after all. The world would remember him. And she would always be proud of him.

As for Mikasa… she would always be the one left behind, the one who would never be able to fulfill the same legacy. 

With a final, shaky breath, Mikasa turned away. She slid the door behind her softly, one last glance lingering on her brother, and stepped into the night, her heart heavy with the knowledge of the sacrifice she had just made. The weight of the scroll in her hand felt heavier with each step, but her resolve only grew stronger. She wasn’t just doing this for Levi; she was doing it for everyone who needed him.

Mikasa knew her brother’s value to the people. If something happened to him, it would send ripples through their town. Levi was more than just a protector—he was a symbol of resilience. People looked up to him, depended on him. If he didn’t come back, there would be an empty space in the hearts of everyone who knew him.

But her? 

Mikasa let out a small bitter laugh. She was the outcast, the wild one. The girl who spoke her mind too much, who acted more like a soldier than a young woman. Few would miss her. Fewer would mourn her loss. She had made her peace with that long ago.

Mikasa stepped into the Kamidana room with a quiet hesitation. The door squeaked slightly as she slid it open, and the familiar scent of incense and aged wood filled her senses. She had been in this room countless times before, a place of reverence, of memories, and of history. But tonight, it felt foreign, like she didn’t belong here. The weight of her decision bore down on her as she stepped further inside, her movements slow, deliberate.

This time, it was different. This time, she wasn’t here just to pray, clean, or just to seek the strength her family had always given her. 

Tonight, she needed something more. 

Her gaze fell on the family shrine, the wooden plaque adorned with symbols and offerings, a place where generations of Ackermans had knelt and prayed. Mikasa dropped to her knees in front of it, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them together. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a long moment, she simply knelt there, staring at the offerings.

She had always come here with a sense of peace, of duty, but now, she felt nothing but uncertainty. Why was she doing this? Why had things come to this point?

She bowed her head low, the weight of her decision pressing heavily on her chest.

“Please,” Mikasa whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “Please protect him. Let him live. Keep him safe, no matter what. I can’t lose him. I won’t be able to survive if I do. But please, understand… understand why I have to do this. Why I have to take his place. Let him fulfill his duty, let him live the life he deserves.”

Her eyes welled with tears, but she forced them back, trying to focus. "Give me the strength to make this sacrifice. Please... protect him from harm, and forgive me."

For a long moment, Mikasa stayed there, kneeling, her body bowed in quiet prayer. The soft flicker of the candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, but there was no warmth in the light tonight. Only coldness. A deep, aching uncertainty.

She finally rose, her legs stiff from the prolonged kneeling. Her eyes wandered to the far wall of the room, where the old armor stood on display. It was a relic of the past, her father’s military armor—now Levi’s—still gleaming under the soft light. The sword, its hilt worn with use, was resting beside the armor in a proud, silent display of strength and legacy. The very sword that had once been wielded by her father, and now belonged to Levi, a symbol of their lineage.

Mikasa walked slowly toward it, the sound of her footsteps muted against the stone floor. She stopped in front of the display, gazing at the armor and the sword. It was as though the very weight of her family’s legacy was pressing down on her, suffocating her, urging her to make a decision she didn’t want to make.

She wasn’t sure how it was all going to play out, but she knew this much: she had to do it. She had to make sure Levi lived to see another day, to carry on the Ackerman name, to fulfill the duty she knew he couldn’t, not in his condition.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the sword, her heart heavy with the knowledge of the future. She touched the edge of the armor lightly, feeling the cold, metallic surface beneath her fingers. 

She wasn’t just making a sacrifice for Levi—she was stepping into a role that would change everything, for both of them.

With the sword in her hands, its cold steel reflected the dim light from the candles. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, pounding faster with each passing second. 

She took a deep, steadying breath, gathering her courage. She had always admired her brother for his strength, his resilience. And now, she was going to have to become him . 

Not just for her own life, but for his too.

But she immediately shook that idea away, she can’t be Levi—people know him, so she will be screwed if they catch that she’s an imposter.

So she has to look at least like a man.

She paused, staring at the sword for a moment. The intricate detailing on the hilt, worn smooth from years of use, seemed to hum with the echoes of battles fought long before her time.

Her reflection stared back at her in the polished steel of the blade. Her hair hung damp and heavy around her shoulders, framing her face in a way that now felt out of place. She swallowed hard, and glanced down at the strands of her hair, tugging one between her fingers. “It will grow back,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the steady rhythm of the rain outside.

With a sharp exhale, Mikasa lifted the sword and, holding it with one hand, she positioned it near her hair. The blade felt solid, grounded—its weight both comforting and daunting. Holding it like this, she could almost feel her father’s presence, as if he were standing beside her, guiding her.

For a brief moment, she hesitated, her mind flashing with memories of the times Levi had combed through her hair, of the times her mother had braided it.

The soft strands of her dark locks had always been a part of her, a symbol of her femininity, of the life she had lived so far. But now, she was willing to cut it away.

Without another thought, she gripped the hair firmly, pulling it tight with one hand as she placed the blade to her neck. There was no hesitation. She could hear the faint sound of the blade slicing through her hair, and in one swift motion, it fell. The weight of her long hair, which had always been a part of her identity, was now on the floor.

The ends of her hair dropped to the floor, scattering around her. She stared at the strands for a moment, her breath shallow. The change was immediate, and she felt an overwhelming sense of disbelief. 

She then sets the sword down and lifts her hands to touch her hair, her fingers run through her jagged, uneven hair, barely brushing her chin.

‘Wow,’ Mikasa thought to herself. She let out an incredulous laugh, a mix of amusement and disbelief at what she had just done.

She was really taking Levi’s place. She couldn’t deny it anymore. She had crossed a line, a threshold that she could not go back from.

Mikasa stepped back and straightened, her mind made up. She took the sword in her hands again, now testing its weight. Her movements were stiff at first, unrefined—Levi’s swordplay was fluid and precise, and she was no match for that. But she swung it, mimicking his motions, pushing her body through each movement with determination. It wasn’t perfect, but she felt something stir within her.

She wasn’t bad at this. She could feel the rhythm, the swing of the blade, the power that came from it. She practiced for what felt like hours, her arms growing tired, muscles screaming with every swing. Sweat slicked her skin, dripping down her face, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop.

As the hours passed, Mikasa felt her body start to give way to exhaustion. Her arms trembled with the effort, but she pushed through, fighting the fatigue. She could hear the pounding of her heart, the way her breath came out ragged, but there was no turning back. Not now.

Finally, when she could no longer hold the sword up without shaking, she lowered it to the ground, panting heavily. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she wiped the sweat from her brow. She glanced at the door, hearing the faintest sounds of birds chirping. 

She didn’t have much time left.

She quickly stripped off the worn clothes she had been in, she rummaged through the storage chest in the corner, pulling out a roll of bandages. She started wrapping the bandages tightly around her chest, flattening her breasts as much as she could. Each pull of the fabric felt like another layer of her identity slipping away, but Mikasa didn’t waver. The pressure making her breathe a little harder, but she pushed through the discomfort. She needed to flatten her chest, to make herself look more like a man, as much as she could. 

Now it was the armor. 

Piece by piece, she began to don it, the leather straps digging into her shoulders as she adjusted the weight of the steel. The familiar smell of oil and leather filled her nose, grounding her as she tightened the buckles and secured the plates.

Finally, she lifted the sword again, sliding it into its sheath with a satisfying click. She stood, her knees shaking slightly under the unfamiliar weight of the armor.

Her eyes drifted to the polished stone of her father’s shrine, and she caught her reflection once more. The person staring back at her was no longer the girl who had walked into the room. This was someone new, someone forged by duty and determination.

Her breath hitched as she stared at her new image. She barely recognized herself, and yet, she felt a strange sense of clarity.

She looked different, obviously. 

The armor, the bandages, the short hair—it was all a stark contrast to the girl she had been just hours ago. She was no longer Mikasa, the sister who had watched over her brother. She was something else now. Someone else.

She let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of her decision settle in her bones. This is it. There’s no going back now.

Mikasa checked herself one last time, adjusting the armor and making sure it all fit securely. She felt a sense of resolve wash over her, but it was mixed with a deep sense of fear. She didn’t know what would happen next, but she knew this was the only way.

She had to make sure Levi survived. 

And to do that, she had to become a man.

Mikasa grabbed a small bag of food—just enough to last her for a few days, enough to get her to the camp where she would meet her new squad. She didn’t know what to expect once she arrived, but she couldn’t afford to dwell on it. She needed to focus. 

For Levi. 

Mikasa took a deep breath, steadying herself. 

This is it. 

She walked towards the stables, her footsteps echoing in the quiet, rain-soaked night.

As she entered the stable, her trusty stallion lifted his head from his hay and whinnied loudly. Mikasa froze for a moment, a surge of panic rushing through her. The horse's high-pitched neigh sounded almost like a question, as if Titan was trying to figure out who had entered. He clearly didn’t recognize her in this form, with the armor and the short hair. Her heart beat a little faster as she quickly approached him, murmuring his name softly to calm him.

“It’s me, Titan. It’s Mikasa,” she whispered, holding out her hand to him. Titan’s nostrils flared, his ears twitching as he caught the scent of his rider. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped forward, his wariness melting away as he realized who she was.

Mikasa sighed in relief as she ran her hand over the stallion’s mane. His warm, familiar presence was a comfort, though it couldn’t soothe the tightness in her chest. She worked quickly, preparing Titan’s saddle and bridle, her movements more efficient than usual, trying to ignore the storm brewing in her mind. Titan nickered softly, his dark coat gleaming faintly under the soft glow of the lantern she’d brought. She ran a hand down his strong neck, steadying herself as her resolve threatened to waver.

“Just you and me now,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she slid the bridle over his head and tightened the straps. Titan pawed the ground as if sensing the weight of what was about to happen.

She secured her father’s sword at her side and double-checked the scroll tucked safely inside one of Titan’s side pouches. Her heart hammered in her chest as she led Titan out of the stable, the sound of his hooves muffled by the rain-soaked earth.

Mikasa opened the gates, paused once she swung them open, the place she had called home for as long as she could remember. The familiar shapes of the house and the fields were shrouded in the dark, the rain softening their edges, but every detail was etched in her mind. She knew the sound of each creaking floorboard, the way the fields smelled after a storm, and the warmth of the kitchen where Levi would silently sip his tea.

Her chest tightened painfully, and she clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. She had to leave, but this place—this life—was everything she had ever known.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Mikasa turned to look at the house one last time. 

This is the last time she’ll see it for a long time—if ever .

The faint glow of the kamidana room’s lamp flickered through the rain, a beacon of the life she was leaving behind. Her throat tightened as her mind flooded with memories: Levi’s quiet laughter, the rare moments of peace they had shared, and the warmth of knowing she was never truly alone.

“I’ll protect this,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the rain. “I’ll protect him. No matter what.”

With that, she swung herself up onto Titan’s back, gripping the reins tightly. The weight of her decision pressed down on her, but she refused to let it show. She guided Titan away from the house, the estate fading into the dark behind her.

At the edge of the path, she hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to look back. But she couldn’t. If she looked back, she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to leave.

“Go, Titan,” she urged softly, her voice breaking.

Titan snorted and broke into a gallop, the rain whipping against Mikasa’s face as they surged forward. She leaned into the motion, her heart pounding in rhythm with the steady beat of Titan’s hooves.

The wind tugged at her short hair, the cool air biting against her damp skin. Tears mixed with the rain streaming down her cheeks, but she didn’t wipe them away. She focused on the road ahead, her hands steady on the reins as she forced herself not to look back.

The estate, her brother, and her past faded further into the distance with each stride. The weight of what she was leaving behind pressed heavily on her, but Mikasa’s jaw tightened as she straightened her back.

This was her choice. Her sacrifice.

The loud, persistent pattering of rain against the roof woke Levi with a start. His heart raced, his eyelids snapping open as he sat up quickly, his body tensing. The storm outside was fierce, the wind howling as if in agony itself. 

For a moment, his chest felt heavy, as though something unseen was pressing him down.

He frowned and rubbed his tired eye, then brought a hand to his chest and rubbed it absently, trying to shake off the inexplicable weight. The faint patter of rain against the windows filled the room, soothing yet strangely unsettling. His good eye shifted to the small window, where the storm clouds still hung heavy in the early hours of the morning.

“Way too damn early,” he muttered under his breath, sighing as he leaned back into his bed. He closed his eyelids, willing himself to drift off again.

But sleep wouldn’t come.

The nerves about the impending journey to war lingered in his mind. He had been to a couple of battles before, years ago, but this time felt different—like a noose slowly tightening around his neck. His muscles remained tense, and his mind refused to settle.

Frustrated, Levi decided to give up on sleep altogether. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet touching the cool wooden floor as he prepared to start his day. Maybe some early training would help shake off the restless energy before breakfast.

The reality of what awaited him—the battle, the death, the sacrifice—felt like a suffocating cloud. He had known this moment was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

Speaking of war.

His eye drifted to the bedside table, the scroll he had been given, the one that signaled his fate—

Or rather, where the scroll should have been.

Levi’s stomach dropped like a stone.

The scroll wasn’t there.

But instead of the scroll, his gaze landed on something else that caused his breath to catch in his throat. 

The Ackerman necklace .

His hand flew instinctively to his neck, fingers searching for the familiar weight of the silver " A " necklace, the one he never took off. It was a symbol of their family, of his connection to his bloodline. 

But it’s there.

His heart stuttered in his chest as he frantically reached for the necklace on the table. The cold silver gleamed in his shaking hands, and panic surged through him, confirming what he already suspected, Levi reached out and picked it up.

‘No. No, no, no…’

His eye widened in disbelief, tears threatening to spill as the realization set in.

Mikasa ...

Levi’s breath hitched, and he shook his head violently, hoping the nightmare would disappear. 

‘Please, no. Not her. Please don't let her have done this.’

He gripped the necklace, clutching it like a lifeline, his vision blurring with tears. He didn’t even care about his cane or the pain in his body as he abruptly stood up, stumbling toward the door, desperate to find her, snatched up the oil lamp from his bedside, his bare feet hitting the wooden floor with frantic urgency.

“Mikasa!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the quiet, empty halls of their home.

The storm outside roared on, thunder rumbling faintly in the distance as the rain continued its steady rhythm against the roof. But the house remained still, unnervingly silent.

Levi’s heart pounded in his chest, panic rising with every passing second. He moved through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering light of the lamp casting long, wavering shadows on the walls.

“Mikasa!” he called again, louder this time, the desperation in his voice more evident.

Room by room, he searched. First the kitchen, then the living room, then the small study where she sometimes retreated to sulk or read when they argued. He slid open the door to her bedroom, only to be met with an empty bed and rumpled sheets.

She wasn’t there.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the oil lamp’s handle.

He moved to the storage room next, hoping—praying—that this was some cruel prank, that she was hiding somewhere to spite him for the argument earlier. But as each room turned up empty, that fragile hope began to crumble.

“Mikasa!” he shouted, his voice ragged with fear and helplessness. His legs gave way slightly as he limped through the house, tears threatening to fall. He screamed her name again, each syllable raw with panic, but there was no response. 

No sign of her anywhere.

His heart pounded in his chest as he searched each room, calling her name, praying against the truth that was already clawing at him. He finally reached the family shrine, the last place he could think of, and when he entered, the sight before him confirmed what he had feared.

The armor. 

Gone . 

The sword. 

Gone . 

And the hair— strands scattered on the floor like the remnants of a dream. His body went cold as he stumbled back, unable to stop the sobs that wracked his chest. 

‘She took my place. She’s gone ... she’s gone to war.’

A guttural cry ripped from his throat as his hands trembled violently as he cradled the necklace against his chest. He felt as if the world was crashing down around him, the weight of his guilt and grief pressing on him from all sides.

“Mikasa!” he screamed again, his voice cracking with the anguish he couldn’t contain, just like the tears. 

Levi then stumbled into the stables, his breath ragged and his heart hammering so violently in his chest that it felt as though it might burst. The oil lamp in his hand flickered with each desperate step, casting shaky shadows across the wooden walls.

“T-Titan,” he rasped, barely able to form the words. “Please, still be here.”

But as his eye darted to the stall where Titan was usually tethered, his heart sank into an abyss. It was empty. The worn leather halter and reins were gone, the hay scattered on the ground disturbed.

“No…” Levi whispered, his voice breaking. “No, no, no …”

His knees nearly buckled, but he grabbed onto the side of the stall, holding himself upright. The weight of reality pressed down on him like a thousand stones. 

She had taken Titan. 

She had truly left.

The lamp nearly slipped from his trembling hand as he staggered out of the stables and into the courtyard, the rain pouring down relentlessly. The storm had turned the dirt path into mud, and he almost slid as he tried to move forward, desperate to see something—anything—that might tell him this wasn’t real.

But there was nothing. No sign of her. No Titan. No Mikasa.

The final shred of hope Levi had been clinging to snapped like a brittle twig, and his leg, already screaming in pain, gave out beneath him. He collapsed to his knees in the middle of the courtyard, the cold mud soaking into his clothes as the oil lamp fell from his grasp, extinguished by the rain.

“Damn it!” he roared, his voice echoing into the storm.

The rain mixed with the tears that streamed down his face, and Levi, for the first time in years, allowed himself to cry—deep, gut-wrenching sobs that he couldn’t contain.

“Damn you, Mikasa!” he cried, his fists pounding weakly against the ground. “Damn your stubbornness! Damn this cursed war! Damn it all !”

Memories of her flooded his mind, unbidden and unstoppable.

He saw her as a child, toddling after him in their family’s courtyard, her tiny hands reaching for him with a bright smile. He saw her as a teenager, training with wooden swords, her determination unyielding even when she fell and scraped her knees. He saw her sitting with him under the cherry blossom tree, laughing softly as she teased him for his gruff demeanor.

And he saw her tonight, standing in the kamidana room, cutting her hair and wrapping herself in armor far too heavy for her slender frame. Her face was resolute, her eyes unyielding—just like his.

“ Mikasa… ” Levi whispered, his voice trembling. “Why? Why did you do this?”

But deep down, he already knew. 

She had done it for him. 

And it tore him apart.

Levi buried his face in his hands, his body trembling with the force of his sobs. The rain continued to fall, soaking him to the bone, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t move.

Images of her fate played through his mind like a cruel nightmare.

Would she come back, frightened by the reality of war? Levi doubted it. Mikasa wasn’t the type to turn back once she’d made up her mind.

Would she come back victorious, having survived the hell of battle? The thought seemed just as unlikely.

Or would she be killed—from the enemy? Or for treason, for tricking the army, for defying the rules of a society that deemed women unfit for war? 

The thought made Levi’s chest tighten, the air in his lungs feeling too thin to sustain him.

“Mikasa,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible over the rain. “You’re all I have left. Don’t you understand that?”

But she was gone. And all Levi could do was sit there in the storm, the mud cold beneath him, the rain falling relentlessly, and hope against hope that he would see her again.

The storm raged on, as if the heavens themselves were mourning with him, clenching to her necklace for dear life.

Chapter Text

The sun was barely beginning to rise, casting a soft golden hue over the dense forest as Titan throttled steadily along a worn dirt path. 

Mikasa adjusted her grip on the reins, her other hand holding the scroll. She’d spent the last two days traveling, resting only when absolutely necessary.

The scroll had remained unopened until now. 

Her fear of its contents had kept her from reading it, but the time had come. Balancing it carefully as Titan trotted along, she unfolded the parchment.

Her eyes scanned the neatly written script, she read out loud. 

"Report to Captain Eren Jaeger at the southern training camp, stationed near the border of Paradis Province to Rose Province. Training will commence immediately upon arrival. Recruits are to be prepared for rigorous physical and tactical drills."

Mikasa raised an eyebrow. 

Captain Eren Jaeger?  

The last name sounded vaguely familiar, but it was the next section of the scroll that caught her attention.

"Captain Jaeger, at twenty years of age, is the youngest to achieve this rank in the Imperial Army. Known for his unconventional strategies and relentless drive, he has led several successful skirmishes against insurgent forces.”

She couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration. To be so young and yet so accomplished—it was impressive. Yet, it also made her nervous. What kind of man was he? Would he notice her disguise? Would he see through her act of pretending to be a man?

Mikasa shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the rest of the scroll.

"The current enemy declared his intention to invade the capital with his elite forces. His strategy is to overthrow the Emperor, dismantle the monarchy, and establish a communist regime under his command. His army is reportedly well-trained, utilizing advanced tactics and weapons—this is all according to scouts. The Empire, lacking sufficient soldiers, has called for civilians to be trained and strengthen the army and defend the homeland."

Her hands trembled slightly as she read the next line.

"The loss of the capital will result in the fall of the Empire. The consequences will be catastrophic: oppression, poverty, and the loss of freedom. Every recruit must understand the gravity of this situation and prepare to give their lives if necessary."

Mikasa’s heart sank. 

The enemy wasn’t just fighting for land or resources—they were fighting to annihilate everything she’d ever known.

The realization hit her hard. 

This is the world Levi was willing to face—the men in her country were too. This is what they were willing to die for.

Her grip on the scroll tightened as a wave of fear washed over her. 

What if they lost? 

What if she wasn’t strong enough? 

The thought of failure was like a sharp blade, cutting through her resolve.

Titan snorted beneath her, sensing her unease. She patted his neck absently, trying to steady her racing thoughts.

“No,” she muttered under her breath, her voice firm despite the trembling in her chest. “We won’t lose. I won’t let us lose. For my country, for Levi… I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She folded the scroll carefully and tucked it back into the side pouch of Titan. The path ahead was long, and the stakes had never been higher, but Mikasa refused to let fear rule her.

As Titan carried her through the forest, the steady rhythm of his hooves was like a heartbeat, grounding her. She straightened her back, her resolve hardening with each passing mile.

She would fight. 

She would win. 

Not only for her brother but for her country, for every innocent life that would be destroyed if the Empire fell.

Mikasa took a deep breath, her hand brushing the hilt of her father’s sword.

The journey was long, but the beauty of the land was not lost on Mikasa. 

She has never been out of her small village, so this scenery was another world to her.

The raven haired marveled at the rolling hills painted with wildflowers in hues of gold and violet, the serene lakes that mirrored the sky’s endless expanse, and the gentle rivers that wound their way through the heart of the country. Every step of the journey reminded her why she loved her homeland so fiercely. 

The people, the farms, the small villages.

Her heart ached with every mile, but her resolve never wavered. 

Titan trotted steadily beneath her, his strong, youthful energy carrying them across the countryside. She patted his neck affectionately whenever they passed something particularly breathtaking—a lush field of ripe crops, children playing by the riverbanks, or farmers tending to their lands. This was the life her brother fought to protect. 

Now, it was her turn.

As the evening sky painted in shades of orange and pink, the sun dipped below the horizon. Mikasa wiped her brow, exhaling deeply as she secured the final stake of her tent. The day had been grueling, her muscles aching from riding Titan for hours and navigating the uneven terrain. The makeshift camp she’d set up for the night was modest but sufficient—a small fire, her tent, and Titan grazing nearby.

She crouched down, unrolling her bedroll inside the tent, her pouch slung over her shoulder. Sliding inside, Mikasa rummaged through her belongings, pulling out a piece of bread and dried meat. As she chewed thoughtfully, her mind wandered to something she’d been avoiding since she left home.

A fake name. 

She would need a man’s name, something close enough to her own that it would feel natural when others called it out and wouldn’t bring trouble when she didn’t respond to whoever was calling her. The idea of answering to something completely foreign seemed exhausting.

Mikasa leaned back against the canvas of her tent, staring at the flickering firelight visible through the opening. “Mamoru? No. Minato? Nah–Miko?” She hummed, rolling the name on her tongue. “ Miko … It’s close to Mika , easy!”

She chuckled since it was pretty lame, but it’ll work. 

A soft neigh interrupted her thoughts. 

She looked up to see Titan’s large head poking through the tent flap, his ears flicking forward as he sniffed in her direction. Mikasa chuckled, her lips curving into a small smile. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re hungry again,” she teased. Titan let out a low whinny, stomping his hoof on the ground as if to emphasize his point.

“Alright, alright,” she relented, slipping out of the tent. “You’re worse than a child sometimes,” she muttered affectionately, reaching into the pouch hanging from his saddle to retrieve a small bundle of feed. 

But the sight of the dwindling supply made her pause.

“We’re running low, Titan,” she said, stroking his muzzle. “You’ll have to graze after this. We’ve got about three more days until we reach camp.” She pulled out three apples she’d saved and placed them on the ground in front of him. “Here, enjoy these. Grazing is going to be your main course for the rest of the trip until we find a village, hopefully soon.”

Titan eagerly chomped down on the apples, his ears flicking happily as he chewed. Mikasa smiled at the sight, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “Titan, what do you think about the name Miko?” She crouched beside him, watching as he stomped a hoof and nodded his head up and down. “You like the name, huh?” she asked with a soft laugh. “Even you agree it’s a good choice.”

She stood and dusted her hands off, her smile fading as her thoughts grew heavier. “Miko it is, then,” she said quietly, gazing at Titan. “But I hope no one notices I’m not who I’m claiming to be. They’ll kill me if they find out.”

Titan nudged her gently as if sensing her unease. She stroked his neck in return, drawing strength from his calm presence. “Alright, finish up and graze,” she told him. “I need to eat, too.”

Mikasa returned to her tent, the firelight casting her shadow long against the ground. As she sat down to finish her meager meal, she repeated the name in her head like a mantra.

Miko .

She would become him for as long as it took—for the lives she wanted to protect.

The following day, as they approached a quaint little town nestled at the base of a hill, Titan’s pace slowed, his head dipping slightly. Mikasa felt his weariness and realized she shared it. Her body ached from hours of riding since dawn, and her stomach grumbled in protest. Titan deserved rest and food, and so did she.

She guided him toward the center of the town, where a small market bustled with activity. Wooden stalls displayed everything from fresh produce to baked goods. Vendors called out their wares, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the earthy aroma of herbs. 

Mikasa dismounted, her legs nearly giving out beneath her, but she steadied herself with Titan’s reins.

Leading him to a trough filled with water, she tied him to a post before making her way to the stalls. She adjusted her voice, trying to make it lower and gruffer as she practiced her "male" persona. She approached a fruit vendor first, clearing her throat before speaking.

“Uh, how much for the apples?” she asked, her voice awkwardly deep and uneven. The vendor paused, giving her a peculiar look before answering.

“Five coins for a bundle,” he replied, eyeing her curiously.

Mikasa handed over the coins, feeling the vendor’s gaze linger. She mentally kicked herself for her poor attempt and moved on to the next stall. She repeated the process, buying some bread, cheese, and oats for Titan while practicing her voice, spending the last of her coins. The reactions she earned ranged from amused to puzzled whenever she would practice her male voice. One vendor even chuckled, muttering something about “strange travelers.”

Frustrated, Mikasa sighed as she collected her goods. 

‘If I can’t even fool a few townsfolk, how am I supposed to fool the military ?’ she thought, biting her lip. 

She resolved to practice more—alone this time.

With her purchases secured, she led Titan to the outskirts of the town, away from prying eyes. She found a secluded spot beneath a large oak tree, its branches spreading wide to offer shade. Titan nickered softly as she removed herself from the saddle to set out the oats for him. He began to eat eagerly, his ears flicking in contentment.

Mikasa let out a heavy sigh as she flopped down at the base of the tree. Her body was sore, her mind weary, but she felt a small sense of accomplishment for making it this far. She unwrapped a loaf of bread and a piece of cheese, eating in silence as she watched Titan enjoy his meal.

The land stretched out before her, a patchwork of fields and meadows bordered by distant forests. She leaned back against the tree trunk, gazing at the horizon. This journey was grueling, but it was a small price to pay. Her love for Levi and her determination to protect him gave her strength.

After finishing her meal, decided it would be good if she practiced some more of her male voice and how to act like a man. So she stood up and saluted, pretending that she was in front of her superiors. After she had walked awkwardly, she practiced her ‘male’ voice again. 

“I’m here to serve the empire, sir!” she said to nobody. 

The words felt foreign, but she repeated them over and over, trying to iron out the awkwardness. She grimaced when her voice cracked and clenched her fists in frustration.

Titan let out a low snort as if amused by her struggle. 

Mikasa looked at him and managed a small smile. “Don’t laugh at me,” she said in her natural voice, scratching behind his ear. “This is harder than it looks.”

The young stallion nuzzled her hand, and she sighed, practicing once more.

Days later…

The moon loomed high, casting a pale glow over the landscape as Mikasa finally caught sight of the camp she had spent grueling days traveling toward. The flickering lamps outlining its perimeter and the orderly rows of tents stretched out beyond gave it the appearance of a fortress in the night. Despite her exhaustion, a knot of tension settled in her stomach as she approached, tightening with every step Titan took.

The camp was alive, even at this hour. 

Watchtowers rose like sentinels in the dark, their occupants barely visible but unmistakably alert, weapons glinting faintly under the torchlight. Titan shifted nervously beneath her, his ears flicking back and forth. Mikasa gave his neck a gentle pat, her fingers trembling despite her effort to steady them. “It’s okay, boy,” she whispered, her voice low and calm, though her racing heart betrayed her own unease. “We’ve made it. Almost there.”

As she neared the edge of the camp, the sound of hooves broke the quiet. Mikasa froze as a figure on horseback emerged from the shadows, riding directly toward her. Her mouth went dry as the soldier came into view, his uniform pristine and his demeanor sharp. The horse stopped a few paces in front of her, and the soldier glared down with a hard expression, his hand on his sword’s hilt. 

“What’s your business?” he demanded, his tone curt and guarded.

Mikasa swallowed hard, forcing herself to sit straighter in the saddle. She cleared her throat, summoning her practiced voice—the deeper tone she’d adopted for her disguise. “I’ve been summoned—and report to Captain Eren Jaeger,” she replied, her voice steady despite her nerves. “I have the scroll.”

Her fingers fumbled briefly as she retrieved the document from the pouch, holding it up for him to see. The soldier didn’t even bother to look at it closely, waving her off with a dismissive gesture. “Save it. Follow me to the entrance.”

He yanked on his horse’s reins, turning it sharply without another word. Mikasa hesitated for a moment, then nudged Titan forward. Her heart pounded as they moved toward the camp, the weight of the scroll in her hand feeling heavier than it had at any point in her journey.

The camp grew larger as they approached, and Mikasa couldn’t help but feel the weight of countless eyes on her. Soldiers patrolled the perimeter, some walking with weapons in their hands, others stationed in watchtowers with bows and spears at the ready. Their gazes were piercing, assessing her with suspicion and scrutiny. She fought the urge to shrink under their stares, instead keeping her head high and her grip firm on Titan’s reins.

At the entrance, the soldier dismounted and disappeared into a small tent beside a watchtower. Mikasa remained awkwardly seated atop Titan, the silence pressing in on her like a physical weight. She glanced around, catching glimpses of soldiers murmuring among themselves, their gazes lingering on her. Her cheeks flushed under their scrutiny, and she muttered under her breath, “It’s fine. They don’t know anything. Just stay calm.”

After what felt like an eternity, the soldier re-emerged, this time accompanied by another man. He was older, with a weathered face and a no-nonsense air about him. His uniform bore the insignia of a higher rank, and his sharp eyes seemed to take in everything about her in a single glance.

“Get down and show me the scroll,” the man barked, his voice gruff and commanding.

Mikasa slid off Titan as quickly as she could, but the weight of her armor made her descent clumsy. She stumbled slightly as her feet hit the ground, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Steadying herself, she straightened up and handed the scroll to the man with both hands, bowing her head respectfully.

The Sergeant took the scroll without a word, his eyes narrowing as he examined the seal. He turned it over in his hands, his fingers running along the wax. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “It’s authentic.”

Mikasa exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, even though she knew it was a legit scroll. 

“Since you’re one of the last men to arrive,” the Sergeant said bluntly, his tone leaving no room for excuses. “All the good spots are taken. You’ll set up camp on the far east side of the grounds–you’ll be under First Lieutenant Arlert's group, then once he sees you ready to move forward, he will send you to the next group. ”

Mikasa bowed again, her voice firm despite the nervous flutter in her chest. “Understood. Thank you, sir.”

The Sergeant took the scroll with him and turned to the soldier who had escorted her. “Corporal, take him to his area and make sure he’s settled.”

The Corporal saluted smartly. “Yes, sir.”

The Sergeant gave Mikasa one last glance, his sharp eyes lingering as though trying to see through her. Then, without another word, he turned and strode back into the tent.

The Corporal motioned for her to follow, already heading toward the far side of the camp. “This way,” he called over his shoulder, his tone clipped but not unkind.

Mikasa nodded, gripping Titan’s reins tightly as she led him after the Corporal. Her heart was racing, but she forced herself to focus. She had made it this far—there was no turning back now.

As they walked, the camp came alive around her, soldiers moved between tents, some carrying weapons, others supplies, or getting ready to sleep. Fires burned in makeshift pits, casting flickering shadows on the ground. She caught snippets of conversation and laughter, but it all felt distant, as though she were walking in a daze.

Finally, they reached the far eastern edge of the camp, where the tents were sparser and the ground uneven. The Corporal stopped and gestured to an empty patch of land. “Set up your tent and report to the main grounds by dawn.”

Mikasa bowed once more. “Thank you.”

The Corporal gave a brief nod before turning on his heel and marching away, leaving her alone in the dimly lit space, illuminated by the moon and the glow coming from the camp. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. 

For the first time in days, she allowed herself a small smile. 

She had arrived. 

And now, the real challenge would begin.

The night was still, save for the distant hum of activity within the camp, Mikasa stood in her proudly as she stared at her little camp–her tent and a small ground fire pit. 

This will be her safe place for the next whatever days.

She glanced around the area, noticing how much quieter it was compared to the bustling center of the camp. She let out a small breath of relief—this distance might just be a blessing. Here, she’d have privacy. If her secret ever came close to slipping, she wouldn’t have as many eyes on her.

Mikasa turned to Titan, who was shifting his weight impatiently beside her. She tied his reins securely to the sturdy tree she decided to camp next to, and gave him an affectionate pat on the neck. “You’ll be fine here for now,” she said softly. “I’ll bring you some hay soon, I promise.” Titan perked up at the mention of food, his ears flicking forward, and he let out a low whinny. Mikasa chuckled, scratching behind his ear. “You’re always thinking about your next meal, aren’t you?”

She adjusted her armor and began walking toward the camp’s center. The closer she got, the louder the hum of voices and the clatter of activity became. Soldiers still moving between tents or engaged in quiet conversations by the fire. 

What caught her attention most was the stark contrast between the men.

A cluster of men, clearly more seasoned soldiers, were sitting around a small fire, sharing animated stories and laughing heartily. Their camaraderie was palpable, their voices carrying over the noise of the camp. But around them, the atmosphere was markedly different. Most of the others—new recruits and civilians, Mikasa assumed—moved sluggishly, their faces weary and downcast. Some stumbled toward their tents with heavy steps, their exhaustion radiating from every movement. Mikasa felt a pang of sympathy and nervous since she is most likely to look like that by tomorrow too. 

Her stomach grumbled audibly, pulling her thoughts back to her immediate concern. She scanned the area and spotted what looked like the kitchen tent—men were cleaning up, stacking dishes and putting away supplies. Mikasa hesitated, the tightness in her chest returning. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice steady but quiet. A few of the men turned to look at her, their expressions ranging from neutral to mildly annoyed.

“What do you want?” one of them asked gruffly, not bothering to hide his irritation.

Mikasa hesitated. “I… I was wondering if you had any leftovers–”

A few of them snorted, shaking their heads as they resumed their work. “Wait for breakfast,” one of them said dismissively.

Mikasa’s face flushed with embarrassment, she opened her mouth to apologize, turn around and leave, when another voice cut in. “Wait.”

A blond soldier stepped away from his task, sighing as he reached for a shelf. He grabbed a small container and a loaf of bread, walking over to her with an easy, tired smile. “Here,” he said, handing the items to her. “It’s not much, but it’ll get you through the night.”

Mikasa’s lips parted in surprise. “Thank you,” she managed, her voice trembling slightly. She felt an overwhelming urge to cry—whether from hunger, exhaustion, or gratitude, she wasn’t sure. She had run out of coins, and both she and Titan had gone without food.

The blond soldier shook his head. “Don’t mention it. I can tell you just got here. You must be starving.”

Mikasa bowed her head deeply, clutching the food to her chest. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’ll need your energy,” he said with a small laugh, waving off her thanks.

She hesitated, then asked, “Do you know where the stables are? My horse hasn’t eaten either.”

He pointed toward the west side of the camp. “Head that way. You’ll find the hay and water troughs near the main stable tent.”

Mikasa nodded, offering him another grateful smile. “Thank you again. Good night.”

The soldier gave her a brief nod before returning to his tasks, and Mikasa turned away, cradling the food as she made her way toward the stables.

Mikasa jolted awake, her heart hammering in her chest as the sharp blare of a trumpet echoed across the camp. For a split second, she was disoriented, staring at the canvas roof of her tent as her pulse raced. 

Then reality hit—she was in the military camp, and the trumpet must have been the signal to gather up.

“Damn it,” she muttered, scurrying to get ready. She fumbled with the bandages, her hands trembling as she wrapped them tightly around her chest. Her fingers slipped several times, and she cursed under her breath, forcing herself to stay calm. With the bandages finally secured, she hurriedly threw on her armor.

Her jika-tabi boots were next, she jammed her feet into them, hastily tying the laces before grabbing her tiny pouch and tying her hair into a ponytail, whatever her short hair could be in it anyway. Another trumpet blast rang out, louder this time, and she panicked. “ Shit ,” she whispered to herself, heart racing.

She stumbled out of her tent, nearly tripping herself over as she rushed to untie Titan. The horse whinnied softly, tilting his head as if amused by her panic. “Good morning,” she gasped, barely glancing at him. “Just graze for now, okay? I’ll bring you something later.” She loosened his reins enough to give him freedom to graze, then took off at a sprint toward the camp.

Men were bustling about, some still dressing and others casually moving toward the assembly area. Mikasa slowed her pace slightly, her face flushing as she noticed the amused glances thrown her way. A few men snickered, and she bit her lip, trying to look as composed as possible despite the awkwardness of her rushed entrance.

“Whoa, slow down, newbie,” a man called out, grinning as he adjusted his belt. Mikasa turned toward him, her face still warm with embarrassment.

“I— I thought I was late,” she stammered, struggling to catch her breath.

The man chuckled, his tone more good-natured than mocking. “Relax. There are three trumpet calls. First one’s to wake up, second is to start getting ready, and the third’s the last call—when you actually need to be in line with your group.”

Mikasa’s stomach twisted with mortification. “I… didn’t know that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man laughed harder and clapped her on the shoulder, the weight of his hand making her stumble slightly. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Happens to everyone their first day. You’re ahead of the game anyway, so you might as well go line up.”

She nodded, still feeling the heat of embarrassment crawling up her neck. “Thank you,” she muttered, keeping her eyes low.

He waved her off, a friendly grin still plastered on his face. “No problem. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Mikasa took a steadying breath and walked toward the sole line of soldiers, by sole line, it was just her and two other eager soldiers. Her stomach churned with nerves as she joined them, who barely glanced at her. She squared her shoulders and forced her head high, doing her best to blend in.

The third trumpet blared, and the chatter in the camp died down almost instantly. Soldiers already stood at attention, their movements sharp and disciplined. Mikasa’s heart thudded as she tried to mimic their posture, her hands clenching at her sides.

Mikasa shifted awkwardly as she found (men forcibly placed themselves where she was every time, causing her to scoot back and further back) her place in the second-to-last row of her assigned group. Soldiers continued to stumble into line, many of them yawning or muttering curses about the early hour. Her stomach churned with nerves as she tried to stay still, though her eyes darted around the growing crowd. She hadn’t seen the First Lieutenant yet, and she wondered what he would be like. She adjusted the straps of her armor and ran a hand down the front of her chest binding, checking that everything was in place.

Suddenly, a force hit her from behind.

“Oof!” Mikasa huffed as she stumbled forward, losing her balance and careening into the man in front of her.

“Watch where you’re going!” the man snarled, spinning around to glare at her. He was tall, blond, and broad-shouldered, his unshaven face twisted into a scowl.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stuttered, quickly stepping back to give him space.

But her retreat only caused another problem. 

She stepped on the first man, the one responsible for making her stumble to the guy in front of her. 

He growled. “What the hell, you little twig!” he barked, shoving her shoulder roughly.

Mikasa tried to steady herself, raising her hands defensively. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shut it!” he yelled, cutting her off. Without warning, he shoved her forward, directly into the man in front of her again .

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” the tall man roared, his patience snapping. 

Before Mikasa could react, he grabbed her by the collar and yanked her forward, throwing her to the ground. She landed hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her lungs.

And instinct took over as she saw the blond tall man kneeling and raising his fist. 

Mikasa widened her eyes as raised her arms to shield herself, blocking his fists with her forearms. She twisted her body, hooking her leg around his and using his momentum to flip him off balance. He fell to his back hard, cursing loudly, but before Mikasa could get to her feet, another hand grabbed her from behind.

“You little punk!” It was the second man, and his face was red with fury. He curled his hand onto the front of her chest plate, shaking her like a rag doll. “I’m not done with you!”

“Let me go!” Mikasa shouted, her voice wavering as she struggled.

“He’s mine!” the tall blond man yelled angrily as he pushed the other man from Mikasa, causing the other man to get mad at him. 

The commotion drew the attention of nearby soldiers, most of whom looked either annoyed or amused. Some stood frozen, watching the chaos unfold, while others took it as an invitation to jump in.

“What’s going on over there?” one of them asked, craning his neck to see.

“It’s a fight!” another soldier said with a grin. “Finally, some drama around here!”

“Fight? Count me in!” one of the larger soldiers bellowed, pushing his way into the fray. Another soldier threw a punch, and soon it was an all-out brawl.

Meanwhile, Mikasa twisted free and ducked, narrowly avoiding an elbow aimed at her head from the tall blond man. The teachings of her father and Levi came rushing back to her. She sidestepped another blow, her movements sharp and calculated, and raised her arms to block a punch aimed at her ribs.

The noise was deafening—grunts, shouts, and the clang of armor filled the air. Mikasa ducked again, backing into a clearing to try to clear her mind, but chaos surrounded her. She caught movement from the corner of her eyes coming at her, so she quickly caught a random man’s wrist mid-punch and twisted it sharply to deflect his momentum.

He grabbed Mikasa by the collar, yanking her up roughly. Her instincts kicked in again, and she twisted out of his grip, using his momentum to shove him to the side. Another man came at her and Mikasa ducked his fists. She blocked another punch aimed at her side and retaliated with a shove, sending her attacker stumbling back. Her breath came in sharp gasps as she tried to keep her footing amidst the chaos. All around her, soldiers were shouting, grappling, and throwing punches.

Suddenly the tall blond man came back, he had a few forming bruises on his face and blood smeared on his cheek. 

Mikasa gulps and nervously watches him, because he was pissed . 

He starts throwing punches at her, but she swiftly blocks them, even though this guy’s a tank. He was basically an armor himself. The punches on her forearms started to hurt, making her defense falter, causing the guy to land a few punches on her face.

Mikasa winced every time, this guy hit hard too, no surprise too. 

He then throws one hitting her square on the nose and sending a sharp, stinging pain radiating through her skull. Blood trickled down her lips as she struggled to block his furious blows, her vision swimming. It caused her to stumble and the man quickly took the chance to tackle her to the ground. 

Mikasa quickly raises her arms in defense as she sees his fist lift. 

As she was expecting the blow, a loud and sharp whistle was heard, freezing everyone in place. 

Soldiers stopped mid-swing, their heads whipping toward the source of the command. Mikasa turned as well, her breath ragged, vision a little blurry.

“ ENOUGH !” someone shouted, the voice booming across the camp, making the ground feel like it was trembling beneath their feet. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” 

The impact of his words caused a near-instant silence. The men, stunned by the whistle and the force behind the man’s voice, scrambled to get back on their feet and stand at attention, their movements quick and nervous. The tension in the air was palpable. What had been a chaotic scene moments ago was now an uncomfortable silence, each recruit clearly unsure of their next move. 

The chaos, the scuffling, the shouting, the punches, all ceased under the weight of the man’s presence. His sharp, icy gaze cut through the stillness like a knife.

Mikasa, still on the ground, could feel every second of it.

She wiped at her bloody nose with the back of her hand, the sting of the fresh cut. The tall blond man that was on top of her quickly stood up straight, she sat down slowly, body aching. 

A blond man stood beside the angry man, his expression unreadable, but Mikasa could see the faint tension in the blond’s shoulders, the frustration simmering beneath his composed facade. He looked as though he were exhausted not just from the situation but from the constant cycle of trying to keep things in order. 

The angry man didn’t wait for anyone to speak. His patience had long since run out.

“You’re soldiers, not animals!” he continued, his voice steady, though thick with fury. “There’s no place for this nonsense here. This isn’t a damn playground, and I won’t tolerate behavior like this in my camp. Do I make myself clear?!”

Mikasa’s eyes widen. 

The angry man is the Captain. 

The soldiers stood even straighter, some holding their breath, others unable to meet his eyes. Mikasa, still sitting on the ground, felt the weight of the Captain's words press on her chest like a heavy stone. The Captain wasn’t just angry; he was deeply disappointed. And that cut through her more than anything else.

His gaze scanned the group of recruits, his eyes sharp and calculating, cutting through the uneasy silence. The tension was thick, suffocating even. Mikasa could hear the shallow breaths of the men around her, the nervous shifting of boots on dirt, but no one dared speak.

"Who started this?" the Captain demanded, his voice low but filled with enough authority to stop anyone in their tracks.

There was a long moment of silence. 

The men exchanged glances, some of them looking anywhere but at Eren. Others avoided Mikasa's eyes, as though by doing so, they could wash their hands of the chaos that had erupted. Finally, one recruit, a man with dark hair, raised a trembling hand and pointed toward Mikasa.

“It was him,” the man stammered, his voice barely a whisper as he gestured toward her, still sprawled on the dirt with dirt and blood smeared across her face.

Mikasa’s heart leaped into her throat, her stomach dropping as her worst fear became reality. Her eyes widened, ready to be booted out of the camp. She could feel all of them—their eyes, the judgment, the weight of their silent accusations—bearing down on her.

But instead of glaring at her, the Captain’s glare snapped to the man who had pointed at her, and the recruit immediately regretted his decision. The Captain’s expression twisted into something dark, something frightening.

“So, you thought it would be smart to throw your comrade under the carriage, did you?” he barked, stepping closer to the man, his voice lowering with every word until it was laced with venom. “Let me make something perfectly clear to all of you—You’re one troop now. If one of you messes up, it reflects on all of you. It reflects on me —there is no room for finger-pointing in my camp.”

The man paled, his face drained of color as he took a step back, shrinking into the group, his head bowed. He dared not speak again.

The rest of the men stood frozen, their bodies tense, their nerves brimming. Captain Jaeger’s glare swept over them once more, ensuring the lesson had been learned. The weight of his words had settled in, and the recruits, no matter how tough, knew better than to test his limits.

Finally, his attention turned back to Mikasa, still sitting on the ground, shaking with the aftermath of the chaos. He walked menacingly toward her as the group parted like a wave, creating a path for him to walk through. Mikasa squinted up at him, the sun burning her eyes, making the Captain’s towering figure feel even more imposing. His boots crunched against the dirt as he approached her, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent camp.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

Mikasa scrambled to her feet, her legs shaky and unsteady, her heart pounding in her chest. She barely reached his shoulder, her frame so small compared to the bulk of the men around her. Her armor seemed too big, too heavy for her. As she straightened, trying her best to appear as confident as she could, the weight of the Captain’s cold gaze felt like it was crushing her.

“Name,” Eren barked, his voice demanding.

“M-Miko, sir,” she stammered, her voice deep but shaky as she tried to maintain composure under the Captain’s piercing eyes. She gulped, but somehow managed to straighten her posture, to force herself to look him in the eye. Her heart raced faster, but she refused to let him see just how much she trembled.

His frown deepened, his suspicion immediately rising. He had seen enough to know there was something off about this recruit, and it wasn’t just her clumsy behavior. There was something about her, something familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Last name and place of origin,” he pressed, his voice cold and scrutinizing.

“Ackerman, from Shiganshina, sir,” Mikasa replied quickly, her voice a little too loud, too fast, and her throat caught as she spoke her last name.

The word hung in the air like a bomb about to go off. His expression faltered for a moment, his gaze sharp and penetrating as he searched her face for any sign of deception.

“ Ackerman ?” he repeated, his tone growing more serious. “Kenny Ackerman only had one son, and that son is named Levi –I’ve only seen him from afar, and while you do hold a resemblance—I was under the impression that he is a little bit older than you look,” Eren narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping lower as his scrutiny intensified. “Explain.”

Mikasa’s breath hitched, her stomach flipping over in anxiety. She had to think quickly, to make this lie believable. “Kenny... my father , he had an illegitimate son,” she stammered, her voice faltering as she spoke the lie she’d carried for years. “He never talked about me–but I exist, as you can see. And since Levi... well, since Levi wouldn’t have been much help given his injuries, I decided to take his place. Someone had to.”

The Captain’s eyes narrowed, clearly not convinced. The blond man, standing behind him (she thinks it’s the First Lieutenant), crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, studying Mikasa with the same skepticism. The story sounded too convenient, too fragile for his liking. Mikasa’s nervous demeanor wasn’t helping her case. Yet, there was a certain strength to her—standing up to Eren, despite how out of place she seemed.

He leaned in closer, his voice a low growl, the threat in it clear. “You’ve got nerve coming here, claiming to be an Ackerman. I’ll be watching you, Miko . Every move you make. If you so much as step out of line again, you’ll bring shame to the highly regarded Ackerman name when I send you back home.”

Mikasa swallowed hard, her throat tight as she nodded shakily. “Y-yes, Captain.”

He straightened and turned his attention back to the group of men, his gaze sweeping across them like a hawk searching for weakness. “As for the rest of you,” he said, his voice rising once again. “You’re not off the hook. You’re all responsible for this mess too. Your punishment will be immediate and fitting. You’ll do your morning routine twice . Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before letting things get out of hand.”

He looked at the blond man and gave a curt nod. “Start their punishment now.”

The man didn’t hesitate. “Everyone, into formation!” he called out, his calm authority cutting through the group. “You’ll be running extra laps before breakfast until I’m satisfied you’ve learned your lesson. Move!”

The recruits groaned collectively but scrambled to obey, knowing better than to protest. Mikasa stood in the middle of the group, the weight of every glare on her back. Her shoulders slumped, but she held her ground, knowing there was no escaping the consequences of her actions, so she jogged toward the group. 

Chapter Text

Mikasa’s legs burned as she completed the last lap, the sweat pouring down her face, mixing with the dust and dirt that clung to her clothes. She was one of the last to finish, struggling to keep pace with the others as her body screamed for rest. Her chest heaved with each breath, but her legs were determined to carry her through to the end. Her eyes were focused on the finish line, but the weight of the previous laps and the punishment had taken its toll.

As she slowed to a stop once she finished, her knees nearly buckled beneath her. She wavered for a moment, her hands resting on her knees as she tried to steady herself. She hadn’t realized how much she’d pushed her body, but now that the laps were done, the exhaustion hit her all at once.

From the side, First Lieutenant Arlert stood with his assistant, a Second Lieutenant, watched over the recruits with a stern expression. Mikasa tried to catch her breath, but she could hear the Lieutenant’s voice boom over the quiet aftermath of the morning run.

“Get up and go eat your breakfast before drills start!” Arlert barked, his tone sharp. “And also, tomorrow take that armor off during training—we’re not training with them yet.”

Mikasa straightened, offering a quick salute, though her legs still felt shaky beneath her. “Yes, sir!” she replied with as much conviction as she could muster, forcing her legs to move as she jogged toward the kitchen tent.

The moment she approached, the warm smell of food hit her, making her stomach growl despite the exhaustion. As she lined up, she could feel her group’s eyes on her—intense, angry stares full of scorn. They were clearly upset, probably not just because of the extra laps but because of the earlier chaos she had inadvertently sparked. 

Mikasa swallowed hard, but she steeled herself.

At least she had survived the morning, right?

She sighed and patiently waited for her turn at the counter. As she moved forward, she was greeted by a blond man from yesterday.

“Good morning!” he said, his voice bright and friendly. “You must be hungry, huh?”

Mikasa’s nerves calmed slightly at his kindness. "Yeah, you could say that," she muttered under her breath, forcing a small smile as she accepted the plate he handed her. The food looked comforting enough, but her mind was still rattling from the morning’s events.

“What’s your name?” he asked casually as he handed her a drink.

For a split second, Mikasa almost told him her real name, but she caught herself just in time.  

“Uh, Miko ,” she answered quickly, trying to keep her voice steady and ‘deep’. “My name’s Miko.”

The man nodded, unfazed by her hesitation. “Nice to meet you, Miko. I’m Niccolo. I’m one of the main chefs here.”

Mikasa gave him a slight nod in return and she was just about to ask a question, maybe start a normal conversation, when the man behind her growled, clearly irritated.

“Quit holding up the line, rookie,” he grunted, pushing her forward.

Niccolo chuckled softly at the exchange, giving Mikasa a kind, understanding look. “Good luck, Miko,” he said with a grin. “I hope the day goes a little easier for you.”

Mikasa smiled back at him, offering a soft thanks before she quickly moved away from the counter, still feeling the stares of her comrades burning into her. She made her way through the small area next to the kitchen, a makeshift dining area. Her eyes scanned for a place to sit and eat, hoping to find a moment of peace before the next round of drills began.

But just as she was about to take a seat, finding an empty seat among occupied ones, she felt something catch her foot. Before she could even react, her legs gave way, and she was sent tumbling forward. Half of her food flew from the tray, splattering onto the ground in a mess. Mikasa hit her knees hard, the sting of the impact causing her to wince, but it was the laughter of the men around her that really got under her skin—one of them had stuck out their foot to make her trip.

The sound of their mocking laughter echoed in her ears, and Mikasa clenched her fists at her sides. The urge to lash out, to start another brawl, was nearly overwhelming. Her jaw tightened, and her body tensed as she glared down at the ruined food.

But she held back.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. The last thing she needed was to make things worse and bring more attention to herself. 

With a final, furious glance at the men, Mikasa stood up, brushing the dirt off her knees, her cheeks flushed with both anger and embarrassment. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she stomped away with less food and drink, the laughter still echoing in her ears.

The entire camp felt like it was closing in on her, but Mikasa steadied her breath, pushing the frustration down. 

She wasn’t going to let them get to her.

The days began to blur together for Mikasa, each one an exhausting repetition of physical strain, mental focus, and emotional resilience. She had quickly learned to wake up earlier than everyone else, rising before the sun, she’d quietly adjusted her bandages, ensuring her identity remained concealed. She studied her outfit with a stern determination, pulling the fabric of her tunic tighter and making sure no details would give her away. 

As the camp stirred to life, Mikasa was already in line, standing tall despite the ache in her muscles. First Lieutenant Arlert paced in front of the recruits, his sharp eyes scanning the group as if he could pierce through their thoughts. His assistant barked out the day's orders, but it was Arlert who had everyone's attention, his presence commanding and unyielding.  

“Laps, now!” Arlert shouted, his voice slicing through the morning air. Without hesitation, Mikasa sprinted off with the others, her legs carrying her in long strides. Her breath came in steady huffs, her body pushing forward even though it begged her to stop. She learned that the morning laps were a grueling start that seemed designed to weed out the weak. 

But Mikasa refused to falter, no matter how much her legs burned or how much sweat stung her eyes. 

So far they had sent home a handful of men from their group. 

And she was not to be the one to be sent home. 

After finishing, barely able to stand but determined to keep moving, she’d head to breakfast. Though the area was filled with chatter and clanging utensils, Mikasa ate quietly far from the clusters of men eating their food. She always felt the weight of the other soldiers' glares, the unspoken resentment hanging heavy in the air ever since she arrived, bullying her. The group she’d been assigned to start seemed to take pleasure in making her feel like an outsider. 

If it wasn’t the glares, it was the whispered insults, the subtle shoves in the food line, or worse, deliberate mischief meant to humiliate her. One day, someone had slipped grass into her cup of water one time she was looking away, someone had passed by to do such a childish thing. Another time, during the morning run, one of them smoothly stuck their foot out, causing her to fall and Lieutenant Arlert scolded her, making her run another lap. 

Each small cruelty was a test, a challenge to her willpower. 

Still, Mikasa didn’t complain, she simply took a deep breath and moved forward. 

Because she is an Ackerman, and Ackermans don’t break.

After breakfast came hand-to-hand combat training, often under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Arlert himself. If the morning laps were brutal, this was even more so. Lieutenant Arlert didn’t go easy on anyone, but Mikasa couldn’t help but notice how often she was singled out. Every time she was paired with an opponent, it felt like the stakes were higher. Lieutenant Arlert’s sharp commands would ring in her ears as he pushed her to her limits.

“ Again ! Faster ! Harder !” he’d shout, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

Mikasa struggled at first, her body unfamiliar with the harsh regimens. She wasn’t used to the sheer intensity of it all—the relentless grappling, the bruises forming on her arms, the sting of failure when she was thrown to the ground. 

But she gritted her teeth and got back up every time.  

It didn’t help that Captain Jaeger often came by to supervise the groups, Lieutenant Arlert’s in particular. 

Whenever his piercing gaze landed on Mikasa, it felt as though he saw straight through her. Unlike Lieutenant Arlert’s practical harshness, Captain Jaeger’s was personal. Like he was expecting excellence from her, so he taunted her harder.  

Though his remarks were cutting, his instructions were deliberately tougher, as though he wanted to prove a point.  

“You call that effort?” Captain Jaeger would scoff, his voice laced with disdain. “If this is all you’ve got, you don’t belong here,” he would say as he walks away to bark at another soldier. 

Though his words stung, Mikasa would stand straighter, her muscles screaming for rest, her mind telling her to keep going. She’d nod stiffly, respond with a crisp “Yes, sir,” and do whatever he commanded, no matter how unreasonable it seemed.  

Lunch was a quiet reprieve, though not by choice. She always found a spot away from the others, usually next to Titan. Sitting beside her animal friend, she’d share a few scraps of bread and water, finding comfort in its steady presence. It was the only time of day she felt remotely at ease. Titan didn’t judge, didn’t mock. It just stood there, solid and reliable.  

But the rest of the day offered no such comfort. 

Training only intensified after lunch, with drills designed to test every ounce of strength and resolve. One day, Mikasa had pushed herself so hard that she ended up doubled over, retching into the dirt. But she wiped her mouth, straightened her back, and got back in line, ignoring the jeers and laughter from the others.  

“ Disgusting ,” one soldier muttered as she passed by, loud enough for her to hear.  

“ Maybe he should just quit ,” another added with a sneer.  

“ That is an Ackerman? ”

Mikasa bit her tongue, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She wanted to fight back, to shout at them, but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. 

She will show them she can do it. She will be worthy of carrying the name Ackerman .

Every day was a test, every moment was a challenge, but Mikasa reminded herself why she was here, why she couldn’t give up. 

Each night, as the camp quieted and the soldiers settled into their bunks, Mikasa would lie awake, her body aching, her mind racing. She thought about the glares, the insults, the punishing routines. 

But more than that, she thought about the fire in her chest, the unyielding strength that kept her moving forward.  

Even as the days went by fast, each one blending into the next, a whirlwind of exhaustion and perseverance, Mikasa knew she would endure. 

She had to.

The evening air was cool against Mikasa’s damp skin as she collapsed onto her bedroll, her muscles screaming in exhaustion. Training had become a blur of pain and frustration, a never-ending cycle of rigorous drills, harsh critiques, and the stares of soldiers who seemed to find pleasure in her discomfort.

Her breath was shallow, and her body ached from the constant exertion. She had tried to hide it all, but the bullies in the camp didn’t miss a thing. It seemed as though every time she managed to stand tall, a group of them was ready to knock her back down. They taunted her for the way she moved, for the way she fought, for everything that made her different from the men who surrounded her.

(Well, she was different –she is a woman after all.)

Each day had become a battle not only against the soldiers but against her own body, which screamed in protest every time she pushed it further than it had ever gone before. Lieutenant Arlert’s harsh lessons were a constant reminder that her bloodline was both a blessing and a curse. She had to prove herself worthy of that name—the Ackerman name—but with every passing hour, she felt the weight of it press harder and harder on her shoulders.

She wanted to scream, to give up and let the fatigue take over, but she couldn’t. 

Not when she had a purpose. 

Not when it was all for Levi. 

She had to do this for him—for the brother who had fought for their country time and time again, for the brother who had suffered so much, and for the brother who never gets a chance to rest.

"You're an Ackerman, Mikasa," she whispered to herself, the words barely audible in the stillness of the night. "You’ll prove it."

And then there was Captain Jaeger.

His piercing green eyes never seemed to leave her. 

Every mistake she made was met with a sharp reprimand and every success, no matter how small, was met with only the slightest nod of acknowledgment. He seemed determined to break her, to see if she had the same grit her brother did. 

If she could fight like Levi. 

If she could withstand the pain, the exhaustion, the doubt.

Mikasa clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. But even as her body begged for rest, her mind was racing. She could hear the echoes of the day’s training in her head, Lieutenant Arlert’s harsh voice barking commands, her fellow soldiers bullying and snarky remarks, and Captain’s sharp eyes watching her every move. 

Her eyes fluttered open again, the darkness of the night surrounding her, the camp was quieter now, the soldiers finally turning in for the night. She could hear the snoring of the men that were staying ‘closer’ to her tent, even though her tent was pretty much apart from the main grounds. The gentle rustling of the wind through the trees made her feel a moment of peace amidst the chaos of the past days, but even in the stillness, Mikasa’s heart raced.

She thought of Levi—how he had fought so hard, giving everything for their country, their family. He didn’t deserve the fate that awaited him, and Mikasa would carry his burden for him if it meant proving that she was worthy of the Ackerman name and even her own life. 

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax, knowing that tomorrow would be another grueling day. And she would face it, just like she had every other day. 

As Mikasa lay there, trying to fight off the exhaustion from another long day, she let her mind wander. The tent's canvas flapped softly in the night breeze, a faint rustling that filled the otherwise quiet night. 

She turned onto her side, staring at the dim outline of the tent’s ceiling. Her thoughts kept racing, each one sharper and heavier than the last, a knot twisted in her stomach as her mind drifted to her brother again. 

‘He’s definitely furious with me,’ she thought, wincing as if she could already hear his sharp voice in her head. 

The image of his expression—his jaw set, his blue eye dark with anger—made her chest tighten. He had always been so protective of her, so quick to shield her from anything he deemed too dangerous. And now, she had done the one thing that would surely send him into a rage: she’d taken his place in a war.

Mikasa smiled nervously and sad. ‘He’ll understand— eventually …’

Her thoughts then traveled to Sasha, and it made her stomach churn even more. Her best friend, always the first to notice when something was wrong, was probably scared and worried. Mikasa could almost picture her now, pacing back and forth in her room, her usual carefree demeanor replaced with anxious energy.

‘She’s probably already been to my house,’ Mikasa thought. ‘Maybe she’s talked to Levi…’ That thought made her wince again. If Levi had told Sasha what she’d done—if he had let slip that Mikasa had taken his place—then Sasha was probably in full-blown panic mode.

‘I should’ve told her,’ Mikasa admitted to herself, guilt creeping in. Sasha would’ve tried to stop her, of course. She would’ve argued and pleaded, her big brown eyes full of concern. But at least she wouldn’t have been left in the dark, wondering where Mikasa was or what had happened to her.

She sighed, pressing her palms against her eyes as if to block out the images of her worried friend and her furious brother. 

But it didn’t work. 

Their faces lingered in her mind, heavy with unspoken emotions.

‘Levi’s going to call me a fool. Sasha’s going to scold me for not saying anything. But they’ll be fine,’ she told herself firmly, though her voice in her head lacked conviction. ‘They have to be fine. I just have to hold on long enough and… win the war?’

Her chest tightened as another wave of doubt crept in. What if she couldn’t do this? What if she wasn’t strong enough, fast enough, smart enough? The harsh glares from the other soldiers, the sharp commands from Lieutenant Arlert, the cold, cutting scorn in Captain Jaeger’s voice—all of it weighed on her like a mountain.

But no. 

Mikasa shook her head, forcing the doubts to the back of her mind. She couldn’t afford to think like that. 

Not now. 

Not when she’d come this far.

She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling of her tent. 

“I’ll make it back,” she whispered to the stars, her voice barely audible. “I’ll make it back, and I’ll prove to them that this wasn’t a mistake.”

Mikasa shifted on her bedroll, trying to find a more comfortable position, and tucked her arms behind her head. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing thoughts. But the moment the air filled her lungs, she recoiled in disgust, her nose wrinkling as a foul stench assaulted her senses—a whiff, that’s all it took. 

The foul smell hit her nose like a punch to the face.

Eyes wide with horror, Mikasa bolted upright and sniffed herself cautiously, making her face twist in revulsion, she gagged.

It was her .

How long has it been since she’d actually bathed? 

The truth hit her like a bucket of cold water—it was since she’d left home. 

And that had been weeks . 

Sure, she’d splashed water on her face every morning and brushed her teeth with the small fusayoji stick she carried, but a proper bath? 

Not once .

Her stomach churned at the thought, but what really made her cringe was the image of her brother’s face if he could see—or worse, smell —her right now. 

She could almost hear his exasperated voice.

"What the hell are you doing to yourself, Mikasa?! You’re fucking disgusting! You could catch something!"

She chuckled under her breath despite herself, shaking her head. Levi’s germaphobia wasn’t just a quirk—it was practically a religion. Everything had to be spotless, sanitary, and in its proper place. He’d scrub the house down to the baseboards every week, muttering about how “ filth attracts disaster .” 

If he could see her now, covered in dirt, sweat, and grime, he’d probably faint.

Standing abruptly, she poked her head out of the tent and looked around, squinting into the dim light. The camp was completely silent, save for the soft chirping of crickets. Everyone seemed to be asleep, the grounds dark and still.

Mikasa bit her lip. 

She’d heard some soldiers mention a small lake not far from the camp, just beyond the tree line. It wasn’t an official bathing area, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

And this was beyond desperate.

She turned back into the tent and grabbed her towel and a small pouch of essentials—soap, a rag, and a clean baggy shirt. Her heart raced as she stepped out into the cool night air, her boots crunching softly against the ground. 

She scanned the area once more, ensuring no guards were patrolling. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she tightened her grip on her things and set off toward the lake.

She could feel the excitement bubbling in her chest. 

A bath— finally . 

The thought alone was enough to keep her pushing forward despite how tired she felt.

Her boots crunched softly on the ground as she walked, keeping an ear out for any sounds of movement. The last thing she needed was to walk right into another soldier who’d be up late too and catch her sneaking off. But the camp remained silent as if everyone else was still lost in their dreams, and exhaustion.

She scanned the area one more time, just to be sure—she only hoped no one else had the same idea. 

As the trees thinned, the faint shimmer of water came into view. Mikasa exhaled in relief, the lake was small and serene, its surface reflecting the moonlight like glass. She scanned the area quickly and saw no signs of anyone else. 

Perfect .

She hurriedly set her things down on a flat rock near the shore, she stripped off her filthy tunic, wincing at how stiff and smelly it had become. 

Naked, she walked toward the water, dipped a toe into the water, and hissed at the chill, but it was refreshing in a way that made her heart lift.

Without wasting any more time, Mikasa waded in, the cold water swallowing her with a sharp gasp. She quickly submerged herself, letting the water soak her hair and wash away the grime that clung to her skin. She returned to the shore to grab her soap and rag, her body getting used to the water’s temperature—scrubbed at her arms, legs, and face, her fingers working furiously as she thought about how good it would feel to finally be clean.

It wasn’t a perfect bath—there was no hot water, no luxury of a proper bathhouse like back home—but at that moment, it didn’t matter. She scrubbed away the sweat, the grime, the aches.

Then she rinsed her body, feeling lighter with each rinse. The water felt like it was washing away the weight of the world, of her stress and her doubts. She breathed deeply, her body relaxing for the first time in what felt like weeks.

For a moment, she let herself forget about the camp, about Lieutenant Arlert’s grueling training, bullying, and the ever-present weight of Captain Jaeger’s glares. 

She let herself simply be . 

The night was peaceful, and for the first time since arriving at the camp, she felt a sense of calm.

Washing her short hair, loving how quick it was to take care of compared to when she had her long hair, she rinsed it, closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself relax again. 

Mikasa swam towards the shore and she stood up, feeling the refreshing chill air against her skin. The moonlight bathed her in a soft, silver glow as she stepped out of the water.

However—it wasn’t ideal—but she didn’t want to head back to camp just yet. She bit her lip, glancing back at the water and then at the faraway camp—silent, still, and distant.

She was alone, completely alone. 

A rare opportunity. 

She could spare a little more time, couldn't she?

Mikasa hesitated for a moment longer, then made up her mind. She washed her clothes quickly and laid them on the flat rock for them to dry, somewhat at least. And with one last glance to make sure no one was around, she waded back into the water. The lake was now warm with her body had gotten used to its temperature, and the thought of swimming in its calm, peaceful waters was too inviting to resist.

Her body sank into the cool depths, and she let herself swim lazily, pushing through the water in gentle strokes. She moved further out, the world of the camp growing more distant with each movement. 

She knew she was pushing her luck by staying longer than necessary—if someone discovered her, it would be catastrophic. 

But the water felt so good, and for just a little while, she wanted to forget the stress, the grueling training, and the crushing weight of her disguise.

Mikasa floated on her back, letting the water support her weight. She tilted her head back, her short black hair floating like seaweed in the water. She stared up at the moon, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. The moon was so bright, and the soft, cool night air was refreshing on her skin. Her smile lingered as she floated aimlessly, letting the water carry her. 

She hummed softly to herself, a melody floating out of her lips effortlessly, a tune she hadn’t sung in years. As her voice echoed softly through the water, she began to sing, the words of ‘Sukiyaki’ rising and falling in beautiful harmony.

The song was soft and melancholic, full of longing and sorrow. 

A song her mother used to sing or sometimes hum.

Mikasa’s voice rang out clear and pure, like a mermaid in the ocean, lost in the serene beauty of the night. The sound of her voice, so familiar yet so distant now, blended with the natural noises of the world around her—the soft rustling of leaves, the chirping of distant insects, and the gentle sound of the water lapping against her body.

Her voice filled the night, the soft vibrations of the melody making her feel light, almost like she was floating through time. She felt the weight of everything that had happened, all her responsibilities and the burdens of being an Ackerman, slip away for just a few moments. There was nothing now but the calm of the lake and her voice, harmonizing with the night.

Mikasa closed her eyes as she continued to sing, her heart swelling with emotion. The quiet solitude of the moment felt like a precious gift. 

The familiar, comforting tune wrapped around her like a soft blanket, and she hummed the rest of the song, feeling the peace and freedom it gave her filled her chest. 

But her peaceful moment was shattered when she heard the distinct sound of something dropping on the ground, followed by a low string of curses.

Mikasa’s entire body froze, her heart leaping into her throat, eyes widening. She quickly flipped upright in the water, her arms instinctively wrapping around her naked chest. Her eyes darted to the shore, her stomach twisting into knots as she caught sight of the intruder.

Her blood ran cold. 

Captain Jaeger .

THE Captain Jaeger. 

Her heart lurched in panic.

The moonlight illuminated his tall frame as he crouched down, fumbling to pick up what appeared to be his bath essentials—a towel, soap, and a small bundle of clothes. His brow was furrowed in annoyance, and he muttered under his breath as he tried to gather his belongings. 

Mikasa quickly turned around, her breath caught in her throat, facing the opposite direction.

‘No, no, no, this can't be happening.’ Her mind raced, panic setting in. 

If the Captain realized who she really was—that she was not ‘Miko’ and definitely not a man—her entire cover would be blown. And she didn’t even want to think about what would happen after that. 

Her disguise, everything —it would all come crashing down.

Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat loud enough to drown out the sound of the water. Every muscle in her body tensed, her stomach twisting with anxiety as she forced herself to remain still. She knew the consequences of being discovered. 

A forged identity—her real name, her gender—it was all lies, and if the Captain discovered even the slightest truth, she would be punished. 

She would be killed .

Mikasa could feel her throat tighten, the panic rising even more in her chest. 

The Captain’s voice, soft and hesitant, broke the silence, sending another wave of dread crashing over her.

“I-I’m... sorry!” Captain Jaeger said, his tone somewhat awkward, uncharacteristically so. “I didn’t mean to intrude…”

Mikasa remained turned, whole body shaking. She was screwed—because how is she going to explain herself, a woman, bathing near a military camp?!

“I—I wasn’t ogling or anything,” he stammered, his tone a mix of embarrassment and irritation, as though he was angry with himself for the situation. “I was just... I was coming here to take a bath, I-I heard someone singing—and I didn’t expect... uh... anyone else to be here. Especially not a woman.”

Mikasa's pulse was racing. 

She couldn't speak—scared that if he saw Miko’s face with a woman’s body, it could give everything away. 

She felt the weight of every second she stayed still, hoping he wouldn’t make out her face.

The Captain’s gaze lingered on her shaking shoulders for a moment longer, and his chest tightened. ‘She’s scared,’ he realized, guilt settling over him like a heavyweight.

Quickly, he turned his back to her, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “I—I’m sorry,” he muttered again, frustration lacing his voice—though it wasn’t clear if it was directed at her or himself. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed heavily. “I’m not looking, okay? You don’t have to worry. I swear I won’t turn around.”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably, still facing the other direction. His green eyes darted across the dark treeline as if searching for some invisible solution to this mess. “But...” he began cautiously, his tone slightly firmer, “I need to know what you’re doing here. This is military ground. No civilians should be around here at all—it’s dangerous.” He paused, and his voice lowered into something more serious. “You could be mistaken for an enemy, you know that, right?”

Mikasa’s mind raced as she processed his words. 

Civilian? 

Of course, he thought she was a random woman who had wandered onto the grounds. But how could she explain herself without exposing her identity? She couldn’t afford to blow her cover—not now, not ever.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to breathe and think. 

Her normal voice.  

‘Just speak in your normal voice. He already thinks you’re someone else.’ 

What was one more lie, anyway? She had already built this entire façade on lies.

“I...” She hesitated, buying herself a few seconds to scramble for something convincing. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, her tone cautious but steady. She closes her eyes as she hugs herself tightly, her back still at him, “I didn’t mean to trespass.”

He felt his heart race slightly at the sound of her voice, breath coming out a little bit faster. He adjusted his footing, keeping his back turned, neck red.

“I—uh...” Mikasa swallowed hard, grasping for an excuse. “I live nearby. I... I heard about the military camp and was curious. I didn’t think it would be a big deal to come look around.” She bit her lip, praying that sounded plausible enough.

“ Curious ?” He repeated, his tone edged with skepticism. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand since the other one was still holding his bath essentials. “Look, I get it, but you can’t just wander near a camp like this, and bathe , especially not at night. It’s not safe.” He glanced down at the ground, his expression tightening.

Mikasa nodded, though he claimed he couldn’t see her. “I understand. I’ll leave,” she said quickly, hoping to defuse the situation.

The Captain let out another heavy sigh, his frustration giving way to an awkward, lingering silence. He shifted on his feet but didn’t turn around. “Just... be more careful, alright?”

“I will,” Mikasa replied, her voice steady but quiet, wide eyes staring at the water in front of her.

He nodded to himself, “Good,” he said, his tone softer now. “And... I really didn’t mean to startle you.” He paused, as though unsure if he should say more.

The Captain stood with his back to her, his mind a tangled mess of emotions he couldn’t quite understand. The silence between them stretched out awkwardly, filled only by the faint rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze. His fists clenched at his belongings as he resisted the strange, inexplicable urge to turn around. 

What is this feeling? 

He had never experienced this kind of... yearning before, this pull toward someone he didn’t even know.

Mikasa’s breathing was shallow as she panicked internally, her mind raced with every possible way this situation could go wrong. She gulped, steadying herself enough to slowly turn her head just a fraction to confirm he still wasn’t looking, and then book it—

“Uh.. so..where are you from?” he asked suddenly, awkwardly, his voice laced with curiosity.

Startled, she quickly turned her head back around, her body stiffening. 

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she grimaced. 

What should she say? 

Lying came naturally at this point, but every word felt heavier under his scrutiny. She forced herself to reply in a calm, even tone. “A-a village nearby,” she said quickly, the lie rolling off her tongue. She could only pray he wouldn’t press her for details.

He nodded slowly, the information settling in his mind. Something about her voice made his heart beat faster, his chest tightening in a way he couldn’t explain. 

‘Who is she?’ he wondered. 

Her presence tugged at something deep inside him, like a thread he wanted to pull and unravel completely. His lips parted as if to say more, to ask her something—anything—to keep her here longer.

But before he could speak, she cut him off. 

“I-I should go,” she said hurriedly, her voice soft with an awkward laugh. “It’s getting dark.”

His chest tightened at her words, a strange wave of disappointment washing over him. 

He didn’t want her to leave. 

“Right. Of course,” he muttered, his tone betraying his reluctance. He straightened up, forcing himself to focus. “I’ll stay turned around. I promise I won’t look until you’re gone.”

Mikasa hesitated, but something in his tone told her he was being truthful, but she wasn’t about to take any risks. She exhaled sharply and slowly turned to glance at him again, verifying that he kept his word. 

He stood motionless, his posture rigid, facing away from her.

Satisfied, she moved quickly but carefully, swimming hurriedly to the shore. Once there, she snatched her towel and wrapped it tightly around her body. She then grabbed her damp clothes and extra ones she had brought to put on after her bath, but she didn’t have time to do so now, not when he could discover her. 

She lastly grabbed her shoes and essentials in a haste, all while keeping a wary eye on him. Her heart raced and without another word, Mikasa sprinted toward the trees, her mind still racing, her body tense and alert. She didn’t dare look back to see if the Captain was still there. She wasn’t sure if he believed her, or if he’d even noticed anything strange. 

But she didn’t care. 

She couldn’t risk it any longer. 

The fake identity was too fragile, and her secret too precious.

He listened to her retreating barefooted footsteps, his chest tightening with every step she took away from him. He didn’t know why, but he felt strangely hollow as the sound of her movements faded into the distance. 

‘Who are you?’ he thought, as he looks up and to the direction where he heard her leaving.

Moments ago…

Eren slumped onto the ground inside his tent, exhausted after hours of reviewing strategies and letters from the various camps scattered across the country. His mind was a blur of tactical formations, reports, and military movements. His role as captain weighed heavily on his shoulders, and the constant pressure was starting to wear him thin. 

He sighed deeply, letting his head fall back to rest against the cold canvas of the tent.

"This isn’t exactly how I imagined leading," he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples in frustration. His position was demanding, but the constant strain on his body and mind was beginning to take its toll. His muscles ached, his mind was foggy, and all he could think about was the overwhelming exhaustion he felt. He needed a break. He needed to clear his head.

A bath . 

That would help.

Eren stood up from the ground, casting one last glance at the scattered papers on his table before shrugging off his armor and grabbing his towel and essentials. The night air would be refreshing. He needed the time alone to breathe, to escape the confines of his duty, even if just for a little while.

As he made his way toward the lake, Eren's thoughts wandered again—back to the strategies, the upcoming battles, and the men in his command. His focus was entirely consumed by the weight of his responsibilities. The soft crunch of the dirt under his boots was the only sound accompanying his walk, and his mind drifted further into the world of military formations and what-ifs.

But then, the soft, melodic sound of a voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. Eren paused, his head snapping in the direction of the sound. 

It was a woman singing. 

It wasn’t just any voice—there was something hauntingly beautiful about it, a resonance that seemed to tug at his very core. The soft lilt of the song beckoned him, the words carrying an almost mystical quality.

Eren’s breath caught in his chest as he strained to listen, his feet taking him to the darkened lake, he didn’t realize how deeply he had become absorbed by the voice.

The voice continued, each word drawing him in more deeply.

"And tonight I'm all alone; happiness lies beyond the clouds, happiness lies beyond the sky, I look up as I walk so that the tears won’t fall, but the tears well up as I walk; for tonight, I am all alone…”

Her voice echoed in the stillness of the night, a soft and haunting melody that seemed to drift on the breeze. Eren found himself holding his breath, his gaze fixed on the lake. The moonlight danced off the surface of the water, casting a silver glow over everything, but it was the voice that held him captive. 

His heart thudded louder in his chest, and a light blush crept over his cheeks as he realized that the woman was clearly naked, her silhouette visible against the water.

Without thinking, Eren edged closer to the lake—coming close to the treeline, his mind too captivated by the song to realize he was slowly stepping into unfamiliar territory. The beautiful voice–and woman–continued to draw him in, as if he were a fisherman lost in the depths of the ocean, helplessly caught by the allure of the siren’s call.

He stepped out of the treeline of the lake and stopped, his body frozen as he listened to her melodious voice. He was so in a daze that his grip on the towel and bath essentials loosened, causing everything to slip from his arms and fall to the ground with a soft thud.

Shit .

The sound broke the stillness, and Eren’s eyes widened in horror as the woman gasped, clearly startled by the noise. His stomach twisted, and his face flushed bright red as he hurriedly bent down to pick up the items. 

He couldn’t look at her, he was clearly embarrassed and now she’s going to think he’s a creep. His mind was racing for an apology as he muttered curses to himself.

“I-I’m... sorry!” Eren stammered, his voice filled with embarrassment as he kept his gaze lowered to the ground, fumbling to pick his stuff from the ground. “I didn’t mean to intrude…”

He couldn’t seem to finish his sentence. 

His mind was in chaos. 

His heart was hammering in his chest, and he kept his head down, not daring to look at her—his face was burning in mortification.

After a quick chat between them, she fled. 

And Eren stood frozen in place, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat that burned within him. His heart was pounding, a relentless rhythm that refused to settle even as the silence of the night returned. 

He hadn’t even seen her face. 

He didn’t know her name . 

Yet, the mere sound of her voice—the soft, almost hesitant lilt—felt like a siren’s song pulling him into unknown waters.

His eyes drifted toward the direction where he had heard her retreat, scanning the shadows of the trees as if she might materialize again. But there was nothing, just the stillness of the forest, the faint rustle of leaves, and the distant call of a night bird. 

He exhaled, the sound shaky, and ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly.

“What the hell just happened?” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.

The encounter had been so fleeting, so surreal, that part of him wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing. His mind was in shambles, replaying every second of their brief exchange, dissecting it, trying to make sense of why he felt so... captivated . 

He had met countless women in his years as a soldier, yet no one had ever left him feeling this way.

His free hand absently rubs his heart. 

‘A woman on military grounds?’ he thought, the logical part of his brain kicking in. ‘No civilian should even be here. How did she get past the guards? Who is she? ’ 

But those questions, as important as they were, didn’t seem to matter in the moment. 

All he could think about was her voice, the way it had stirred something deep inside him—something he hadn’t even known was there.

His chest tightened as a new thought struck him. ‘What if she wasn’t real?’ The idea unsettled him more than he cared to admit. 

Was he losing his grip? 

Had his exhaustion or the stress of command conjured her out of thin air? 

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the notion, but the vivid memory of her soft-spoken words refused to fade.

Eren stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring into the darkness where she had disappeared. The night felt heavier now, as if it had absorbed the weight of her presence and left him alone with its emptiness. 

“I’ll find out who you are,” he murmured, his voice low and resolute. 

He didn’t know why it mattered so much, but it did. 

He felt enchanted, as if she had cast some sort of spell over him, and the mere thought of never seeing her again left a dull ache in his chest.

Eren turned to the water with his bath essentials, but his movements were mechanical, his mind far away. As he walked to the edge of the water, he paused one last time, his gaze lingering on the treeline.

Whoever she was, she had left him utterly dumbfounded, his thoughts tangled in a way he hadn’t experienced before. 

The mighty Captain Eren Jaeger, reduced to a man questioning reality itself. 

And for the first time, he felt something other than duty or war coursing through his veins. 

He felt his heart race for someone.

Chapter Text

The first rays of dawn peeked through the fabric of Mikasa’s tent, waking her gently from her slumber. She stretched, a small smile tugging at her lips as she remembered the peaceful bath the night before. 

Despite the near heart-stopping moment when Captain Jaeger had almost caught her, the refreshing water and solitude had been worth the risk. 

She felt more rejuvenated than she had in days.

Sitting up, Mikasa brushed the sleep from her eyes and exhaled deeply. It was a new day, another chance to prove herself, no matter how grueling the training might be. She reached for the roll of bandages, expertly wrapping them tightly around her chest to conceal her breasts. The pressure was something she had gotten used to by now. Once she was satisfied with the fit, she began to dress in her training tunic and pants. 

Outside, the camp was still quiet, the tranquility broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. She worked swiftly and efficiently, her body already moving in rhythm with the routine she had established over the past few days. By the time the first trumpet blast pierced the stillness, Mikasa tied whatever her short hair could into a tiny ponytail with a string of red ribbon she has, and was fastening the last of her boots when the sound signaled the start of the day, urging the rest of the camp to rise, but she was already halfway through her preparations.

She exited her tent and inhaled the crisp morning air, rolling her shoulders to loosen the tension there. Titan, tied to the nearby tree, let out a soft snort as if to greet her. Mikasa patted his neck affectionately before untying him and giving him his breakfast. 

The second blast of the trumpet sounded, signaling the need for urgency. Down the small hill, the camp began to stir as soldiers groggily emerged from their tents. Mikasa paid no attention to the slow-moving figures as she was already ahead of schedule.

By the time the third trumpet rang through the air—a final, commanding call to assemble—Mikasa was already lined up. She was one of the firsts to line up in her group, standing tall and steady. Her eyes remained forward, her expression calm and determined. The morning light cast long shadows across the grounds as soldiers trudged into position behind her, some yawning and others muttering complaints about the early hour.

Mikasa ignored the murmurs. 

Her focus was singular.

She would survive the day, endure the challenges, and show them all that the name Ackerman wasn’t one to take lightly. 

As the lines behind her filled, she clenched her fists at her sides and took a deep breath, the resolve in her chest solidifying. 

Whatever trials awaited her, she would face them head-on.

The morning sun rose higher into afternoon sun, casting golden light across the bustling camp, but Captain Jaeger’s mind was elsewhere. 

Eren paced on the far side of the grounds with his hands clasped behind his back, his sharp green eyes scanning Jean’s group as they practiced their strikes or forms with the weapons they were provided. 

He was supposed to be assessing them and shouting corrections, but his focus was hazy, his thoughts tangled in the events of the previous night.

The mysterious woman at the lake…

Eren growled softly to himself, shaking his head as if the gesture would banish her image from his mind. The way she moved through the water with such grace, the way her voice carried over the lake, enchanting and haunting all at once—it had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. 

And her body… 

‘Damn it, Eren!’ He clenched his jaw, annoyed at himself for letting his thoughts spiral into such dangerous territory. 

This was war, not a time to be distracted by a stranger, no matter how ethereal she seemed.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to focus on the present. Around him, the sounds of training were sharp and raw—grunts of exertion, the strike of metal meeting metal, the barked commands of Jean. 

He should have been immersed in it, his sharp gaze dissecting every movement and every failure, but the woman’s song played faintly in the recesses of his mind, refusing to be drowned out by the chaos of the camp.

Eren’s pace slowed as he allowed his thoughts to wander once more. 

He didn’t even know her name. 

He hadn’t seen her face—only a glimpse of her silhouette under the moonlight. And yet, she lingered in his mind as if she had carved a piece of herself there. 

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t found women beautiful before, he was a man attracted to women after all. 

But this… this was different. 

There was something about her, something magnetic, something that defied logic. He could still hear the softness of her voice as she sang, feeling the inexplicable pull toward her even now.

He stopped abruptly, his boots kicking up dust as he planted them firmly on the ground. He rubbed his temple in frustration. "Get it together," he muttered under his breath. He wasn’t the kind of man to lose focus, especially not over something so fleeting, so irrational. 

They were at war, for heaven’s sake. 

His duty was to the men under his command, to the defense of their country, not to some nameless figure who had no place in his life.

But even as he thought it, he couldn’t quite make himself believe it. 

He straightened his posture, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. His sharp gaze flicked to Jean’s squad, finally seeing them again as they struggled to perfect their techniques. He took a breath and started toward them, his voice rising to deliver a scathing critique of their sloppy stances. 

Yet even as he barked orders, the ghost of a song lingered in his mind, and he knew it would haunt him long after the sunset.

And probably forever .

The tension in Armin’s group was palpable as Captain Jaeger approached. His piercing green eyes scanned the soldiers with a sharp, calculating gaze, and every man in the group straightened their posture instinctively, determined not to invite his wrath. Among them was Mikasa, her heart hammering in her chest as she adjusted her stance. Her fingers curled tightly into fists as she prepared to face her sparring partner, a burly blond man with heavy fists.

The air was thick with the sound of fists meeting flesh, grunts of exertion, and the occasional barked command from Second Lieutenant Arlert. 

Armin, standing a few paces away, was busy berating two recruits for their sloppy punches, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a rare intensity. Mikasa tried to focus on her sparring partner, her eyes locked on his movements, but the sheer presence of Captain Jaeger prowling behind them made her nerves fray.

The man in front of her launched a powerful punch, his knuckles aiming straight for her face. Mikasa narrowly dodged, feeling the rush of air as the blow grazed past her cheek. She retaliated instinctively, her fist snapping forward in a precise jab that landed square on her partner’s jaw. The impact made him stumble back a step, and for a fleeting moment, a sense of pride swelled in her chest. 

She had done it—a clean hit.

But the moment shattered as Captain Jaeger’s voice cut through the air, sharp and unimpressed.

“That’s it?” he sneered from behind the edge of the clusters of men. His tone was icy, laced with disdain. “That weak, pathetic excuse for a punch is all you’ve got? Might as well pack up and go home if that’s what you’re bringing to the battlefield.”

Mikasa stiffened, the sting of his words slicing through her pride. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from retorting, her fists clenching at her sides. Slowly, she turned to face him, her head bowed slightly in understanding. Captain Jaeger began to walk up to her like a predator, his boots crunching against the dirt as his sharp eyes assessed her with a mixture of disappointment and scrutiny. All while her partner remained still, nervously looking at the Captain as well.

“Do you think those punches are going to stop an enemy soldier?” he continued, his voice growing louder with each step. “Do you think they’ll even slow them down? Because let me tell you, they won’t. Not even close.”

Mikasa’s jaw tightened, her pride warring with her desire to remain unnoticed. She knew he was testing her, challenging her to see if she could withstand his relentless criticism. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she snapped her heels together and saluted sharply.

“Yes, sir!” she yelled with her ‘Miko’ voice, though she feared it still wavered slightly under his scrutiny.

Captain Jaeger’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a faint smirk that was more derisive than amused. “If you’re serious about being here, then prove it,” he growled. “Show me you’re worth my time. Otherwise, you’re nothing but a waste of resources.”

Mikasa’s heart burned with frustration, but she refused to let it show. “Yes, sir!” she repeated, louder this time, her voice deeper, steady, and resolute.

He stared her down for a long moment, his gaze unrelenting, before finally turning on his heel and walking away to inspect another pair of soldiers. Mikasa released a shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. She glanced at her sparring partner, who was still rubbing his jaw from her earlier punch, and squared her shoulders.

“Sheesh, I’m glad my last name isn’t Ackerman , otherwise the Captain is going to have a personal vendetta against me.”

Mikasa chuckled and nodded, getting into a fight stance, as well her partner.

Days later…

Mikasa’s chest tightened as she lay sprawled on the dirt, sweat dripping from her temple, her entire body screaming for rest. Her muscles ached, her lungs burned, but she refused to let exhaustion win—not when she still had something to prove.

First Lieutenant Arlert and his assistant stood to the side, scanning the scroll where their evaluations had been recorded. Mikasa forced herself to slow her breathing, eyes glued to them as they whispered amongst themselves. 

This is it.

She was told that at the end of each week, the Lieutenants will decide who will get passed along. 

Mikasa swallowed hard, Lieutenant Arlert and his assistant were deciding who would train under Lieutenant Kirstein, and those who weren’t named, they had three days to prove themselves again to them or be sent home. 

The thought made her stomach churn. 

That wasn’t an option for her.

“Stand up,” Arlert’s sharp voice cut through the murmurs of the resting soldiers.

Mikasa pushed herself up on shaky legs, ignoring the way her knees trembled. The entire squad straightened, some still catching their breath, others standing tall with a sense of confidence. Mikasa kept her face neutral, but her heart pounded against her ribs.

First Lieutenant Arlert held up the scroll and cleared his throat. “I will now call the names of those who have been selected to train under Lieutenant Kirstein. If you are named, you will start training tomorrow and have the rest of the day off.” A small ripple of excitement went through the soldiers. “If you are not named,” he continued, his voice turning cold, “you have three days to prove yourself—or else you’ll be dismissed.”

There was silence throughout the group and Mikasa clenched her fists, sweat rolling down her back. 

‘I did enough, right?’ She had given it everything she had, and while she wasn’t the strongest, she had pushed herself through every grueling task.

Arlert began listing names, starting with the top performers. The first few were obvious choices—those who were fast, precise, or had shown natural skill. 

Some of them raised their fists to their chests before lowering them in that swift motion of silent victory. 

Others merely sighed in relief, walking toward their tents with pride.

The names kept coming.

Mikasa’s stomach twisted as she wasn’t named yet.

She shifted her weight, her heartbeat quickening with each passing second as the group of soldiers was thinning. Those left standing carried the same expression—stiff shoulders, sharp breaths, silent desperation. 

Mikasa felt like she was suffocating.

Another name. 

Then another and still not her.

Her breathing grew faster while the panic started clawing up her throat. 

No, no, no—

“Miko Ackerman.”

Mikasa barely heard it over the rushing in her ears, her breath hitched, and she almost staggered from the sheer relief that crashed over her. 

She made it.

It took everything in her to keep her expression calm, but her fingers twitched as she exhaled.

“That will be all,” Arlert concluded, lowering the scroll after naming two other men.

Mikasa barely processed the rest. 

A few remaining soldiers had been left unnamed, their faces pale with dread. A handful of them would get a second chance, but if they couldn’t prove themselves within three days, they were out.

As Mikasa forced herself to walk toward her tent, though in a daze, she smiled at herself.

She had made it.

The next morning, Mikasa stood stiffly in a straight line alongside the other recruits, the weight of First Lieutenant Kirstein’s gaze pressing down on them like a physical force. It was their first day training under him—at least, for those new to his group. 

And it was immediately obvious that he was nothing like Lieutenant Arlert.

Not that Arlert had been soft. 

Far from it. 

But Kirstein carried a different kind of authority, one that burned with a harsher intensity. His sharp eyes swept over them, calculating, appraising, as if he was already deciding who would be a waste of his time. 

Mikasa squared her shoulders and kept her face neutral, but she felt the tension radiating from the others beside her. 

No one wanted to be singled out. 

“Listen up,” Kirstein began, his voice cutting through the early morning air. “You’re here because you weren’t completely useless in basic training.” His words were blunt, carrying none of the careful patience Arlert sometimes held. “But that doesn’t mean you’re worth keeping. You’re here to prove that we didn’t make a mistake selecting you.” 

A few recruits swallowed audibly, but no one dared speak.

“Weapons training is different from what you’ve done so far. Strength and endurance mean nothing if you can’t wield a weapon properly,” Kirstein continued, pacing before them like a wolf sizing up its prey. “You’ll be training with every weapon available to you—spear, bow, and swords. You’ll learn them all. But we don’t have time for dead weight. If you show talent in one, you’ll focus on that.” 

Mikasa listened carefully, absorbing every word. She had never used a weapon in combat before. Would she have a natural affinity for one? Or would she struggle? 

Kirstein’s sharp eyes landed on her briefly before moving on. 

“Training starts now. We’ll see what you’re capable of soon enough.”

Days blurred together as Mikasa pushed herself to the limit. Every night, after the exhaustion of the day settled deep into her bones, she would grab her sword and practice in the dim fireplace outside her tent, swinging it through the air until her arms trembled and felt like limp noodles. 

The effort was relentless, but she refused to settle for being average. 

She wanted to excel.  

During training with Lieutenant Kirstein, she quickly discovered where her true strength lay—swords. 

Dual swords , in particular. 

The weight, the balance, the precision of each strike felt natural in her hands. It was a strange feeling, as though they were an extension of her body, something instinctual and deeply ingrained.  

She wasn’t the only one.  

Reiner Braun, a tall, broad-shouldered soldier with a serious expression, was keeping pace with her. Ever since First Lieutenant Arlert’s training, they had been on par with each other, pushing through the ranks together, neither willing to fall behind. Like her, Reiner showed an affinity for dual swords, and that led to them being paired together during sparring sessions.  

Their rivalry was unspoken but fierce. 

Every strike, every block, every counter was met with equal intensity. They weren’t the best yet, but they were climbing, their progress steady and undeniable.  

Lieutenant Kirstein had taken notice since Braun was buff and tall while ‘Miko’ was smaller build and overall less than Reiner, but skills and talent were in the ‘small man’s’ favor. (Not that Braun doesn’t have any of the ladder.)

Mikasa would catch Kirstein watching, murmuring something to his assistant before moving on to correct the stances and swings of other soldiers. There was no open praise, but his attention alone was enough to tell her that she was making an impression.  

And then there was Captain Jaeger, again .

Unlike Kirstein, his gaze wasn’t one of interest—it was scrutinizing, sharp, and filled with judgment. His eyes followed her movements, searching for the smallest flaw, the tiniest mistake. If she so much as wavered, he would be the first to bark at her, his harsh words ringing in her ears.  

But Mikasa never faltered.  

Every order, every criticism, every piercing look from Captain Jaeger only made her stand straighter, grip her swords tighter, and swing harder. She had something to prove—not just to him, not just to the Lieutenants, but to herself.  

She was an Ackerman.  

And Ackermans didn’t break.

A couple of days passed and Mikasa lay on her back on the floor of her tent, knees bent, arms crossed over her chest as she continued to do sit-ups in the dimming light of the evening. Sweat clung to her brow, her breathing steady despite the ache in her abdomen. The sounds of laughter and splashing drifted from the lake nearby, where the men were enjoying their well-earned bath after passing Lieutenant Kirstein’s grueling training.  

And she had passed!

A small, rare smile tugged at her lips as she exhaled and lifted herself up once more, her core burning but her spirit soaring. This time, she hadn’t been one of the last names called. She had been listed mid-way, proof that her strength, endurance, and skill were increasing. She was slowly getting stronger, her body hardening with muscle, her movements sharper and more efficient.  

It wasn’t perfect. 

She knew she still had room to grow. 

Her endurance wasn’t where she wanted it to be, and she still had moments where her body screamed at her to stop. But she didn’t. She kept going, pushing herself past every limit, past every doubt.  

And it was working.  

Mikasa had noticed the looks—some from the soldiers who had underestimated her, some from those who had bullied her in the beginning. They were no longer so quick to shove past her, no longer laughing at comments about her when she took her position in the food line. She was proving herself, and that alone filled her with a deep sense of pride.  

But the moment that had stuck with her the most was the briefest of glances from Captain Jaeger.  

She had been standing at attention as Lieutenant Kirstein called out the names of those who had passed. Heart pounding, body sore, she had listened carefully, waiting. 

And then—  

“Miko Ackerman.”  

She had swallowed hard, stepping forward to acknowledge it. But as she did, her eyes flickered to the side, catching a glimpse of Captain Jaeger nearby.  

His sharp green eyes had been watching.  

And for the briefest moment—he had smiled ?

Well, not really. 

A barely-there smirk, a flicker of approval, gone just as quickly as it came. 

But it was something.  

He had seen her progress, acknowledged it.  

Mikasa had nearly let a smug grin slip onto her face, but she held it back. She wouldn’t let it show—not when the Captain was still around. But inside, she let herself feel the satisfaction, let herself bask in the knowledge that she was earning her place.  

He had turned and walked away right after, offering no words, no further reaction. 

But she didn’t need one.  

She had passed.  

And Captain Jaeger had noticed.  

Now, as she lay on the ground, pushing through the last of her sit-ups, she waited for the lake to clear out. She had seen how excited the men were earlier, rushing toward the water with relief after the brutal training. They had earned their moment to rest, to scrub off the sweat and dirt.  

And so had she.  

Mikasa wiped the sweat from her brow, sitting up fully as the faint sounds from the lake began to die down. 

She would wait a little longer, just to be sure. 

Then, she’d finally get her turn.

Minutes turned into hours as Mikasa cycled through pushups, elevated crunches, and squats, her body warm and slightly less tense by the time the noise from the lake finally died down. She sat back on her heels, wiping the sweat from her brow and glancing toward the tent flap. The voices were fewer now, distant murmurs suggesting the soldiers were finally retreating to their tents for the night.

“About time,” Mikasa muttered. 

She grabbed her towel and bath essentials, giving Titan a quick pat on the neck as she stepped out of her tent. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a gentle light over the camp as she made her way toward the now-quiet lake. 

It was finally her turn for some peace and cleanliness.

The cool water of the lake cascaded down Mikasa’s skin as she rinsed off, her hands smoothing over her arms to wash away the last remnants of dirt and grime. The soft scent of the soap clung to her skin, and she sighed in relief. A small smile tugged at her lips as she tilted her face up to the night sky, the stars glinting like scattered diamonds above her.

Deciding to savor the moment, Mikasa floated on her back, her limbs moving gently in the water. The stillness of the lake and the rhythmic sound of her splashes were soothing. She felt a rare moment of peace, a reprieve from the grueling training and her constant efforts to maintain her disguise.

After a few minutes, she swam to the shore, reluctantly accepting that her stolen moment of serenity had to end. She waded out of the water, droplets clinging to her skin as she stepped onto the soft grass. Grabbing her towel, she quickly dried herself before reaching for her underwear. She had just slipped into it when she heard it—soft footsteps crunching against the grass nearby.

Her heart jumped into her throat. 

Footsteps?

Mikasa gasped, her blood running cold. 

She whipped her head toward the sound, her eyes scanning the shadows, but the moonlight was faint, and she couldn’t make out what—or who —it was. Her fingers trembled as she hurriedly grabbed the rest of her clothes, tugging them on as fast as she could. 

She didn’t wait for the footsteps to come closer. 

As soon as she was dressed, she bolted, her heart pounding in her chest as she sprinted away from the lake, her stuff in her hands. 

Adrenaline coursed through her as she raced back to her tent, and when she finally made it, she threw herself onto her bedroll, her breath coming in short bursts. 

And then, to her own surprise, laughter bubbled up from her chest.

She laughed hysterically, clutching her stomach as she lay sprawled on the bedroll. “I swear,” she whispered between breaths, “if I get caught one of these days, it’ll be because I can’t resist a good bath.”

The laughter subsided, leaving her with a satisfied smile as she reached for her towel. Sitting up, she began to dry her wet hair, the clean strands brushing against her face. The fresh scent comforted her, a welcome change from the sweat and grime that had been her constant companions, and herself of course. 

As she toweled off, her thoughts drifted, and the smile on her face softened. 

Memories surfaced, bittersweet and vivid. 

She could almost hear Sasha’s loud, care free laughter echoing in her ears. The memory of her brother Levi came next—his stern but protective demeanor, the way he would nag her about cleanliness with his unyielding obsession with order. 

A pang of sadness settled in her chest as she thought of their shared moments.

Her parents’ faces appeared in her mind, her mother’s gentle smile and her father’s strong, reassuring presence. Mikasa’s hands stilled, clutching the towel to her chest as tears pricked her eyes. The ache of loss was sharp, but the memories were a balm, a reminder of the love that had shaped her.

“I miss you all,” she whispered to the quiet night, her voice thick with emotion. She exhaled shakily and blinked away the incoming tears, determined not to dwell too long in sorrow.

Placing the towel aside, Mikasa lay back on her bedroll, her heart heavy but her body light with the relief of cleanliness. She stared at the tent ceiling, letting the night’s calm settle over her as her eyelids grew heavy. 

Despite everything—the challenges, the masquerade, and the exhaustion—she felt a small spark of hope.

Tomorrow was another day, another chance to keep fighting under Lieutenant Springer. 

The night air was crisp and cool as Eren made his way toward the lake, the moonlight casting a faint glow over the path. His steps were measured, his shoulders tense. Each breath he took was an attempt to release the frustration and exhaustion that had built up over the long day.

And yet, despite the weariness, a faint spark of something he refused to name tugged at his chest.

If anyone asked, he’d deny it until his dying breath…

He’d been coming to the lake almost every night since that damn encounter. 

He scoffed at himself, shaking his head. 

The mysterious woman had captured his thoughts in ways he couldn’t understand or control. Her voice, the way she moved, her laughter—it all haunted him.

He snorted softly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Idiot,” he muttered under his breath. “You told her not to come back here, and now you’re the one hoping to see her again. Pathetic.”

The closer he got to the lake, the quieter the camp behind him became, until all that remained was the sound of his boots crunching against the forest floor and the distant rustle of leaves. His mind was so preoccupied that he almost missed the faint sound of someone running.

Eren’s head snapped up, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto a shadowy figure darting into the woods, away from the lake. 

His heart leaped, a flicker of recognition sparking in his chest. 

It was her !

He took a step forward, instinctively opening his mouth to call out to her, his body already bracing to follow. 

But then he froze.

What the hell was he doing?

His jaw clenched as he forced himself to stay put. 

Chasing after some woman he barely knew? What kind of reckless, ridiculous behavior was that? 

Eren groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he turned back toward the lake. He didn’t know why she kept coming back after he warned her. 

Eren reached the water’s edge and set down his belongings onto a rock, then running a hand through his hair as he let out another long sigh. He was about to start undressing when something caught his eye—a flash of red on the ground near the rock.

He frowned, leaning closer to inspect it—small, soft, and vibrant, standing out starkly against the earthy tones of the forest floor. 

He picked it up, turning it over in his hand.

A string of red ribbon .

His heart thudded in his chest as he realized it had to belong to her—the woman from the lake. She must have dropped it when she ran off. His fingers closed around the ribbon, the delicate fabric soft against his grip.

Eren glanced back toward the woods where she had disappeared, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

What had she been doing here? Coming to swimming again, maybe? Or had she just finished? Had she come here, like him, in hopes of seeing each other again? 

The thought sent a flicker of heat to his cheeks, and he shook his head fiercely, shoving the ribbon into his pants pocket. He wouldn’t think about that—he couldn’t think about that.

He straightened and began to undress, carefully folding his shirt and pants before setting them down on the rock. 

As Eren stepped into the cool water, letting it lap at his legs, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. The lake was supposed to help him relax, to clear his mind of distractions.

Eren sighed heavily as he sank deeper into the cool water, letting it envelop him. The grime and sweat of the day clung stubbornly to his skin, and he scrubbed at it with almost brutal efficiency, as if scrubbing harder could erase the thoughts that plagued him.

The woman.

She had been in his head all day— for days to be precise—a constant, maddening distraction. Eren growled softly to himself as he scrubbed the soap suds through his wet hair. He didn’t have time for this—for whatever this was. The war was looming, and every ounce of his focus needed to be on strategy, training, and survival.

The thought of pursuing her, of seeking her out, was reckless. 

Foolish . 

Unprofessional . 

He snorted bitterly, the sound echoing across the still lake. 

A fling. 

‘That’s all it could ever be if I pursue her–I may die in battle,’ he told himself. A fleeting moment of connection before the chaos of war inevitably tore it apart.

So why couldn’t his heart let her go?

His hands paused mid-scrub as his heart, stubborn as ever, refused to let the matter rest. The memory of her voice floated back to him—soft, melodic, haunting. The way she moved through the water, graceful and free. He could see the faint outline of her figure in his mind, even though he’d never seen her face.

Eren let out another frustrated sigh, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as the water poured over him, rinsing away the soap and grime. His muscles ached, but the deeper ache was in his chest.

He was screwed.

His fingers tightened into fists as his thoughts wandered again. 

If he went to the nearby village—the one she had said she was from—would he see her? Would he recognize her? Would she even want to see him?

It was a ridiculous notion. 

He had no reason to believe she’d be there, no guarantee she was even from the town in the first place. 

She could have lied.

But what if she hadn’t?

The question lingered, refusing to be silenced. Eren opened his eyes, staring at the dark soapy water rippling around him, his heart pounded at the mere possibility of seeing her again, of hearing her voice.

It was dangerous, a distraction he couldn’t afford.

But damn it, he wanted to know.

With one final shake of his head, Eren pushed the thoughts away—at least for now. He finished his bath quickly, his movements rough and decisive, as if he could physically will himself to focus on something else. 

Anything else but her .

And yet, as he stepped out of the water and reached for his clothes, slowly putting them on, his hand brushed against the pocket holding the red ribbon.

It seemed no matter how hard he tried, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Eren gritted his teeth as his mare’s hooves clopped against the cobblestone streets, the sound echoing through the quiet town. The crisp morning air nipped at his skin, and the faint scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery. 

Yet, none of it registered fully, his mind was elsewhere—fixated on the absurdity of his current predicament.

“What the hell am I doing?” he muttered under his breath, his knuckles tightening on the reins. His white mare, a magnificent creature with a glossy coat and intelligent eyes, trotted obediently beneath him, her gait smooth and unhurried.

His sharp eyes scanned the street, darting from face to face. A baker arranging loaves in the shop window. A woman sweeping her doorstep. A young boy chasing a stray cat. 

Yet no sign of her .

Eren cursed under his breath again because this was madness. 

He knew it. 

He had woken up at the crack of dawn, the same as always, but instead of heading to his meditation spot or reviewing his daily plans, he had found himself saddling his horse.

Armin had caught him just as he was about to leave the camp.

“Captain?” Armin had asked, blinking at him in confusion. “Where are you going? Should I assign you guards?”

Eren had waved him off with a curt shake of his head. “No guards. I’ll be back soon.”

Armin had stared at him, clearly skeptical, but Eren hadn’t offered any further explanation. 

How could he? What was he supposed to say? 

That he was riding into town on a wild whim, chasing a phantom of a woman who had no business occupying his thoughts?

The memory of her haunted him—the ribbon, now tied around his wrist , was a constant reminder. He had tried to ignore it, tried to bury himself in work and focus on his duties. But his heart, stubborn as ever, refused to let him rest until he knew.

And so here he was, in the heart of the town, scanning every face like a fool.

The mare snorted softly, as if sensing her rider’s turmoil. Eren sighed and patted her neck absentmindedly, murmuring a soft apology. He had no right to drag her into this insanity.

The town was beginning to stir now, more people emerging onto the streets as the morning wore on. A group of women walked by, their chatter and laughter filling the air. Eren’s gaze flicked to them briefly, but none of them matched the image burned into his mind.

He pulled the reins slightly, guiding his mare toward the market square. It was bustling with vendors setting up their stalls, the vibrant colors of fruits and fabrics creating a lively scene. Eren dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with a solid thud.

Leading the mare by the reins, he weaved through the crowd, his sharp gaze missing nothing. 

Still, there was no sign of her.

He clenched his jaw, frustration building with each passing moment. What had he expected? That she would just appear, as if summoned by his desperation?

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “This is pointless.”

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. 

Something deep inside him refused to let go of the possibility, however slim, that she might be here.

Eren looked down at the ribbon on his wrist, stared at it for a long moment, his heart twisting.

He had no idea where she was, and that is if she was even from this town.

But the memory of her voice, her movements, her presence—it was enough to drive him here, to this moment.

With a deep sigh, he looked away from the ribbon and climbed back onto his mare. 

He didn’t know what he was looking for, or even what he would do if he found her.

But for now, he would keep searching.

The afternoon sun was relentless, beating down on the open training grounds where wood clashed against wood. 

Mikasa gritted her teeth as she parried a powerful strike from Reiner, her arms trembling slightly from the force behind it. He was strong— brutally so. Every blow he delivered sent vibrations up her arms, and she knew if she faltered even once, he would overpower her.  

His body was like it was armored . 

During training, Reiner wasn’t holding back. 

And neither was she.  

Their swords met again, ringing sharply in the humid air. Mikasa shifted her weight and twisted, aiming a quick strike at his ribs, but Reiner blocked it with ease, using his sheer strength to shove her back. She barely managed to plant her feet before he lunged again, this time with an overhead swing.  

She dodged to the side, barely avoiding the strike, and went for a low sweep with her wooden swords, trying to unbalance him. But Reiner anticipated it, jumping back just in time. They reset, circling each other, both breathing heavily but refusing to yield.  

Around them, other recruits were locked in their own sparring sessions, but Mikasa hardly noticed. 

The only thing in her mind was Reiner, his stance, his next move.  

“Keep your footing, Miko!” Lieutenant Kirstein barked from the sidelines, pacing between the sparring groups. His assistant followed closely behind, scribbling notes onto a scroll. “If Reiner shoves you again, you’ll be eating dirt! And Reiner—don’t just rely on strength. Think!”  

“Yes, sir!” they both responded, barely sparing him a glance before they clashed once more.  

Mikasa knew she was fast. 

Quicker than Reiner, but he was a wall, unwavering and absorbing every strike she threw at him without giving an inch. 

A bead of sweat slid down her brow as she feinted left before twisting right, slashing toward his shoulder. Reiner grunted, barely managing to block, but this time, she had caught him slightly off guard. His stance wavered, and she took the opening, stepping in closer, ready to knock his blade aside—  

A boot slammed into her gut.  

The breath was knocked from her lungs as she stumbled backward, coughing.  

Reiner had kicked her.  

Mikasa’s eyes flickered with something dark and determined as she steadied herself.  

“Oh? We’re using kicks now?” she murmured, wiping her mouth.  

Reiner smirked, adjusting his grip on his swords. “It’s a fight, isn’t it?”  

Mikasa exhaled sharply, then charged.  

The next clash was faster, sharper. 

They both moved on instinct now, countering, dodging, striking. 

Mikasa landed a quick slash against Reiner’s arm—though the swords were wood, they were enough to leave a bruise. He hissed and retaliated, forcing her back again.  

Lieutenant Kirstein watched closely, murmuring something to his assistant. Whatever he said made the man nod and quickly jot down notes.  

Mikasa caught the glance but didn’t dwell on it. All that mattered right now was the sparing.  

She adjusted her stance, eyes locked onto Reiner’s. If she wanted to win, she had to do more than just match his pace. She had to break through.  

And she would. 

She feinted left again, then swung her one sword in a powerful arc from the right. Reiner blocked it, but the force of her strike pushed him back a step. Seeing her opportunity, Mikasa surged forward, driving her knee into his thigh.

“Damn it!” Braun yelped, his leg buckling as he dropped to one knee.

Before he could recover, Mikasa raised one of her swords and pressed the tip to the hollow of his throat. 

Both of them froze, panting hard, sweat trailing down their faces and dripping onto the dusty ground.

Reiner blinked, then chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I yield. Damn, Ackerman, that was impressive.”

A small, triumphant smile tugged at Mikasa’s lips. “Thanks,” she managed between breaths, lowering her sword.

“Not bad,” Lieutenant Kirstein called from across the field, his tone begrudgingly approving. He smirked slightly, a rare sign of praise from the usually gruff instructor. “But don’t let it go to your head. You’ve still got a long way to go.”

Mikasa nodded, her face returning to its usual stoicism as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “Yes, sir.”

Around them, other soldiers continued their drills, growling and yelling as they spared. The tension in the air was palpable, but so was the determination.

Braun got to his feet, rolling his shoulder with a wince. “Seriously though, you’ve improved a lot since you got here. Keep this up, and you’ll be giving the Lieutenants a run for their money.”

Mikasa gave him a rare, genuine smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The two of them rejoined the group, preparing for the next round of drills. Despite the exhaustion weighing on her limbs, Mikasa felt a flicker of pride. 

She was getting stronger. 

And with every swing of her sword, every drop of sweat, she was proving to herself—and everyone else—that she belonged here.

Eren trotted back into the camp under the dull light of the setting sun, his white mare snorting softly as if sensing her rider’s frustration. His hands gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles white as he tried to rein in his swirling emotions. The day had been a complete waste, and yet the ache in his chest didn’t abate.

The trip to the nearby town had been fruitless, more of a wild goose chase than anything else. Eren had swallowed his pride and asked around—a move that felt utterly out of character for him. The townspeople had been hesitant, their eyes wide with curiosity and confusion at a military Captain asking about a woman with black short hair.

“A woman?” one elderly man had repeated, scratching his head. “There’s plenty of women here with black short hair, Captain. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Eren had given them vague details—of course he’s not going to tell them the way her hair shone in the moonlight, the melody of her voice. But every lead the townsfolk offered led to a dead end.

One woman, a seamstress, had fit part of the description. 

Eren had been hopeful for a brief moment, because the second he laid eyes on the seamstress, he knew it wasn’t the mysterious woman. She lacked the elegance, the allure that had haunted his thoughts since that night.

By midday, his patience had worn thin. Eren found himself scowling as he approached yet another vendor, trying to ignore the whispers and curious stares following him. He had always been intimidating, but now his questions seemed to paint him as some sort of madman.

“Forget it,” he muttered under his breath after another fruitless conversation. He mounted his mare with a sharp, frustrated motion, the leather saddle creaking beneath him.

Galloping back toward the camp, the cold wind bit at his face, but it did little to cool the fire raging inside him. His jaw clenched, and his grip on the reins tightened until his fingers ached.

“She deceived me,” he growled aloud, his words carried away by the rushing air. “She’s not worth this. This... this is absurd.”

But as much as he tried to convince himself of that, the memory of her lingered like a shadow in his mind. The way she moved through the water, the melody of her song, the glimpse of her bare shoulders in the moonlight—it all felt so vivid, so real.

When he finally rode into the camp, the familiar sounds of soldiers training and the scent of campfires greeted him. Eren dismounted his mare with a huff, his boots hitting the dirt with a heavy thud. He handed the reins off to a stable hand without a word, striding toward his tent with long, determined steps.

Inside, the dim light of the oil lamp cast shadows against the canvas walls. Eren dropped onto his cot, running a hand through his hair and letting out a long, frustrated sigh. His chest felt heavy, weighed down by a mix of anger and disappointment—though most of it was directed at himself.

“What the hell was I thinking?” he muttered, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Chasing after some girl ... I don’t even know her name.”

He closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on anything but her. 

The war.

The soldiers. 

The strategies and formations. 

All of it demanded his attention far more than a fleeting encounter with a mysterious woman—he wasted a whole day for some whim. 

Eren took a deep breath, forcing himself to sit up straight. “No more distractions,” he said firmly, his voice echoing in the quiet of the tent. “The war comes first. Always.”

But as much as he wanted to leave her memory behind, the faint scent of her—something floral and wild—still lingered in his thoughts, and he clenched his fists in frustration.

This time, he would bury the thought of her deep within, where it couldn’t reach him. 

He ran his hands over his face, catching the ribbon on his right wrist, and she came rushing to his mind all over again. 

He was fucked. 

Chapter Text

As the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon as the group of weary soldiers was making their way back to camp on horseback. After spending more than a week in the wilderness, they were battered, exhausted, and covered in dirt—but they had survived.  

At the front of the group, Lieutenant Springer rode with ease, his back straight despite the grueling journey. Beside him, his assistant balanced a scroll on his lap, jotting down notes as they spoke.  

“So,” the assistant muttered, scanning over their reports, “they are advancing to the final test?”  

Springer smirked, glancing over his shoulder at the line of recruits behind him. They had worked hard, but it wouldn’t get any easier from here. “That’s right,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “They think they had it rough with us and the other Lieutenants? Ha ! Just wait ‘til they get a taste of Captain Jaeger’s training. If they aren’t broken yet, he’ll finish the job.”  

His assistant chuckled, shaking his head. “Reckon some of them will get sent back to you?”  

“Oh, definitely . Captain’s a different beast.” Springer’s smirk deepened as he turned his attention back to the road ahead. “But the ones who make it through? They’ll be the real soldiers.”  

Meanwhile, at the back of the group, Mikasa was chatting with Reiner. Both of them rode with sluggish movements, their bodies aching from the past week’s brutal training.  

“Damn,” Reiner grumbled, rubbing his sore shoulder. “I knew this was going to be tough, but I didn’t think Springer would actually try to kill us.”  

Mikasa let out a tired chuckle, adjusting her grip on Titan’s reins. She clears her throat to speak deeply, her ‘man voice’ getting better. “Yeah… I think I stopped feeling my legs after the third day.”  

Reiner snorted. “Third day? I lost feeling after the first night when he made us sleep on nothing but the damn ground.”  

Mikasa smirked, but she had to admit, the training had been some of the hardest yet. They had been split into groups of two, forced to survive in the wilderness with almost no supplies. She had been paired with Reiner— it seemed the Lieutenant wanted to test their ability to work together.  

And test them, they did.  

Lieutenant Springer or his assistant had haunted them like ghosts in the forest, randomly appearing behind bushes, trees, or out of nowhere, barking orders, critiquing their every move.  

“Tracking! Do you know what the hell that means, Braun? Stomping like that, you’ll scare away everything within a five-mile radius!”  

“Ackerman! You call that a shelter? I’ve seen rats build better homes! You’ll freeze to death before morning!”  

“You two are pathetic! If this was a real war, you’d both be dead already!”  

Every mistake was met with sharp correction, every misstep punished with extra training. They had learned how to track, how to hunt, how to survive using only what nature provided. They had fought against the elements, against exhaustion, against the overwhelming urge to just collapse and sleep.  

But they had made it.  

And now, as they rode back to camp, bruised and sore but still standing, Mikasa felt a strange sense of accomplishment.  

She glanced at Reiner, who was rubbing his temple with a grimace. “Do you think Springer actually sleeps? Or does he just lurk in the shadows, waiting to yell at us?”  

Reiner laughed, shaking his head. “I swear, I woke up one night and thought I saw his silhouette just standing there, watching us.”  

Mikasa chuckled, then sighed, stretching her sore neck. “Well, at least we made it back.”  

Reiner gave her a tired smirk. “Yeah. But now we’ve got to wait if we are passing on to the final test… with Captain Jaeger.”  

Mikasa stiffened slightly but nodded. That was the part that had her on edge. If the Lieutenants had been relentless, she could only imagine what the Captain had in store for them.  

“Think we’ll survive?” Reiner asked, half-joking, half-serious.  

Mikasa smirked, despite the pit in her stomach. “I guess we’ll find out.”

As the group rode lazily down the hill at the edge of the camp, with the exhaustion from their week weighing heavily on their bodies, but the thought of finally resting at camp kept them moving forward despite the aches in their muscles.  

The sight of the tents in the distance should have been a welcome relief.  

But something was off.  

Lieutenant Springer abruptly pulled on his reins, bringing his horse to a sudden halt. His sharp eyes swept over the camp, taking in every detail. His normally relaxed expression hardened into something unreadable.  

The rest of his group stopped at their leader’s halt.

Mikasa, near the back of the group, instinctively frowned, stopping as she noticed the men in front of her suddenly stop. She couldn’t hear from her spot, but she caught the shift in atmosphere, the energy around them changed. Conversations hushed, and soldiers exchanged uncertain glances.  

Her grip on Titan’s reins tightened.  

Reiner, beside her, leaned slightly forward, eyes locked onto the Lieutenant. “Why’d we stop?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone.  

Mikasa had no answer. But she had the same question.  

Lieutenant Springer’s assistant, riding beside him, mirrored his superior’s tense gaze. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle before finally voicing what everyone was thinking.  

“Sir?” he asked cautiously. “What’s wrong?”  

Springer’s jaw tightened, then he exhaled through his nose.  

He gulped. 

His assistant’s eyebrows shot up, knowing that wasn’t a good sign.  

Springer was tough—too tough to gulp .  

The rest of the group caught on to his unease, exchanging uneasy glances.  

“Something happened,” Springer finally muttered under his breath, barely audible to his assistant. He adjusted his grip on the reins, his sharp eyes scanning the training grounds with a new intensity.  

The camp was different.  

Late afternoon meant most soldiers should have been winding down, preparing for the evening meal, or tending to their weapons. 

Instead, the training fields were alive.  

Soldiers were still running, pushed to their limits, their movements sharp and desperate. Others were swinging swords in repetitive, exhausting drills, while groups struggled through grueling endurance exercises.  

It wasn’t just intense. 

It was brutal .  

Springer’s frown deepened.  

Eren wasn’t soft—far from it—but he wasn’t cruel. He valued mental and physical endurance, but never beyond the point of breaking his men. He knew when to push and when to stop.  

And yet, the sight before them looked like something out of hell.  

Springer’s assistant hesitated before speaking again, lowering his voice, as he too noticed the camp. “Sir, this isn’t normal.”  

“No,” Springer muttered, “it’s not.”  

He narrowed his eyes at the main training grounds.  

Of course, this wasn’t random–this was Eren’s decision. 

And if Eren had decided to push his men to such an extreme, then something had happened.  

Something big.  

Mikasa, still near the back, caught wind of the uneasy whispers from the soldiers nearest to her.  

“Why’s the Lieutenant looking like that?”  

“The hell’s going on in camp?”  

“This isn’t normal training.”  

“Something must’ve happened.”  

Mikasa inhaled sharply, her senses on high alert.  

Reiner was still watching the leader of the group, brows furrowed. “Springer looks serious,” he noted, his voice unusually low.  

Mikasa nodded subtly.  

The confusion. 

The tension. 

The change in the camp’s energy.  

Something wasn’t right.  

As soon as Lieutenant Springer snapped out of his tense silence, he clicked his tongue and yanked on his horse’s reins, urging it into a brisk trot down the hill. His assistant immediately followed suit, their urgency palpable, as he looked behind him and yelled at the group to follow them.  

The rest of the soldiers exchanged glances but quickly obeyed, following behind with an unspoken understanding that something wasn’t right.  

Mikasa kept a firm grip on Titan’s reins, her eyes flickering between the tense posture of their Lieutenant and the restless energy of the camp ahead. The closer they got, the clearer it became—this wasn’t the same place they had left.  

Springer turned his head slightly but kept his eyes forward as he finally addressed them.  

“All of you— somehow —passed my training!” he announced, his tone clipped.  

There should have been cheers, relieved sighs, maybe even some teasing between soldiers. But the group was too on edge, too caught up in the unusual tension thick in the air. A few recruits exchanged quiet, half-hearted nods, but the usual excitement of an accomplishment like this was nonexistent.  

Springer didn’t give them a moment to celebrate, anyway.  

“Take your horses to the stables if they aren’t yours!” he ordered. “Then rest! Tomorrow, you’re training under Captain Jaeger!”  

That got a reaction.  

There was no excitement in their expressions now—just barely hidden dread.  

Springer almost smirked at their misery but kept his face neutral. “Dismissed!” he barked. Then, without another word, he yanked his reins again and sped toward the command tent, his assistant trailing behind him.  

Mikasa watched as he disappeared through the camp, leaving them at the edge of the camp, and to process what had just happened.  

The murmurs started almost instantly.  

“What the hell is going on?”  

“Why is everyone still training this late?”  

“Did something happen while we were gone?”  

Mikasa ignored the voices, her eyes scanning the training grounds again. Now that she was closer, she felt the difference more than ever. The energy was suffocating—heavy with exhaustion, desperation, and something else.  

Something tense.  

She turned to Reiner, who was frowning just as much as she was.  

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… guess we’ll find out soon enough.”  

Mikasa nodded, glancing toward the stables. “You need to return your horse?”  

“Yeah.”  

They both dismounted, their muscles screaming in protest after the long ride, and exchanged brief nods.  

“See you tomorrow morning,” Mikasa said, still feeling unsettled.  

Reiner huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah.”  

With that, they parted ways, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them as they stepped into a camp that no longer felt like home. 

Connie Springer strode into the command tent with urgency, his assistant trailing close behind. The moment he stepped inside, the air felt heavier.  

Eren stood at the head of the table, his hands pressed firmly against the worn map spread across its surface. His sharp green eyes were scanning every detail, his jaw clenched, tension radiating from his rigid posture. Around him, Armin and Jean were hunched over the same maps, their faces etched with exhaustion and focus.  

The table was cluttered—maps, scrolls, documents all scattered across it, ink smudged in places from hurried markings. 

Whatever was happening, it was big.  

The three men turned slightly at Connie’s abrupt entrance.  

Without hesitation, Connie and his assistant saluted, standing at attention. “Captain!” they both said.

Eren barely acknowledged them, giving a quick wave of dismissal before immediately returning his focus to the maps in front of him. 

His mind was clearly elsewhere.  

Armin, ever the polite one, gave Connie a tired smile, dark circles under his eyes betraying his lack of sleep. Jean, standing next to him, gave a brief nod in greeting before looking back down at the mess of maps and reports.  

Connie exhaled slowly.  

Yeah. Something big was going on.  

He turned to his assistant, lowering his voice. “Go get some rest,” he muttered. “We’re gonna have a rough day tomorrow.”  

The assistant hesitated for a moment, glancing between his Lieutenant and the commanding officers, but eventually gave a short nod. “Yes, sir.”  

With that, he turned and stepped back out into the cool night air, leaving Connie alone with the rest of the team.  

Connie sighed, rubbing the back of his head before stepping closer to the table. “Alright,” he muttered, eyeing the maps warily. “What the hell did I miss?”

Mikasa stood near the small fire outside her tent, the flickering flames casting warm, uneven light across her weary frame. She absentmindedly patted Titan’s strong neck as he munched contentedly on the fresh hay, his ears twitching every so often in response to the sounds of the camp.  

“At least you were taken care of,” she murmured, watching the rhythmic movement of his jaws as he ate. “Meanwhile, I was out there busting my ass.”  

Titan gave a soft snort, as if in response, making Mikasa chuckle lightly.  

She sighed, rolling her shoulders to relieve some of the tension built up from the past week. Her muscles still ached, and the lingering soreness in her legs made it clear just how brutal Lieutenant Springer’s training had been. 

But at least it was over now. 

She had passed.   

Mikasa was looking forward to a bath—heavens, she needed one—but as she glanced toward the lake in the distance, she caught sight of a group of men already heading in that direction. Of course, there were no chances to bathe while in the forest, even though there were a couple of waterfalls or rivers during the training, but there was no way she would risk getting caught while being around Reiner or Lieutenant Springer. 

Mikasa stunk after days of not bathing–she was surprised Reiner didn’t comment on her smell, but she guessed it wasn’t a priority while focused on training and surviving. 

She sighed in frustration, of course, she would have to wait.  

With a quiet groan, she sat down properly in front of the fire, pulling her dinner plate onto her lap.  

She had stopped by the kitchen before heading to her tent, and Niccolo had been there, smiling as soon as he saw her.  

“So you survived, huh?” he had teased, already giving a plate to her.  

Mikasa had simply chuckled and nodded, too exhausted to say much, but Niccolo had seemed genuinely pleased.  

“Good to see. About damn time you got back—felt like forever.”  

Then, much to her surprise, he had subtly added extra portions to her plate.  

She had caught the gesture, of course, and shot him a questioning look.  

He had simply smirked. “ What ? You deserve it. Eat up, Miko.”  

Mikasa had muttered a quiet thanks before walking off with her meal, pretending she didn’t feel oddly touched by the kindness.  

Now, as she slowly ate, she could feel exhaustion pressing down on her, but she forced herself to stay awake a little longer. Her body needed rest, but her mind refused to shut off completely.  

Tomorrow, she would begin training under Captain Jaeger.  

And if what she had seen in camp earlier was any indication, it was going to be hell.

The camp was finally silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant chirping of crickets. Mikasa strained her ears from within her tent, waiting, making absolutely sure that the men’s laughter and chatter had died out. After what felt like an eternity, she heard nothing but the peaceful hum of the night.

Her heart leaped with excitement as she quickly grabbed her bathing supplies, double-checking everything to ensure she had what she needed. Soap, towel, spare clothes—all accounted for. She didn’t waste another second, slipping out of the tent and making her way toward the lake under the cover of darkness, but not before patting Titan on her way. 

The path was serene, lit by the soft glow of the full moon. The air was cool, and the promise of the lake’s refreshing water brought a rare smile to Mikasa’s lips. As she approached the shoreline, she took a deep breath, relishing the crisp scent of the water.

Without hesitation, she shed her filthy clothes and waded into the lake, the water instantly soothing her tired muscles. For days, she had endured the grime of relentless training, and now she scrubbed herself thoroughly, the rough cloth gliding over her skin in earnest. She had to wash her hair twice, ensuring that every trace of sweat and dirt was gone.

Mikasa floated on her back for a moment, letting the cool water embrace her. The moon hung high in the sky, its light reflecting off the rippling surface, and for once, she felt truly at peace.

After a while, she swam around the lake, enjoying the freedom and weightlessness the water provided. She wasn’t just bathing—she was reclaiming a part of herself that had been buried under the demands of training and survival.

Eventually, though, practicality called her back. 

She hand-washed her clothes and the bandages, wringing them out as best she could before pulling the extra ones on. 

As she put on her pants and tied her tunic, her mind wandered to the relentless cycle of training they’d endured. Lieutenant Spinger’s survival lessons had been grueling, but now she worried about what horrors awaited them tomorrow. 

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t hear the soft crunch of footsteps coming near.

It wasn’t until she felt a presence nearby that her senses snapped back into focus. 

She froze, her heart racing as adrenaline surged through her veins, as someone cleared their throat. 

The camp had quieted down considerably, the last of the soldiers retiring to their tents as the fires burned low. The crisp night air carried the occasional murmur of guards patrolling the perimeter, but otherwise, all was still.  

Inside the command tent, Eren remained at the large wooden table, his fingers pressed into the surface as he studied the maps and reports scattered before him. His face was tense, jaw tight, exhaustion evident in the dark circles beneath his eyes. He had been inside the tent for hours , his mind racing with strategies and then scribbling them on a scroll, calculations, and the grim reality of their situation.  

Two of his Lieutenants had bid him good night, knowing better than to argue when their Captain was in this state. 

But not Armin.  

The blond lingered near the table, watching his childhood friend with a growing frown. He knew Eren— knew the way he pushed himself too far, took everything onto his own shoulders until it crushed him.  

With a sigh, Armin turned on his heel and walked around the table, his arms crossing over his chest. “Eren.”  

No response.  

Armin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “ Eren .”  

Eren let out a slow exhale, barely glancing up from the map. “Armin, I don’t have time for a lecture.”  

“That’s exactly why you need one.”  

Eren sighed heavily, rubbing his temple before finally looking up, irritation flickering in his tired gaze. “This needs to be done. You know that.”  

“And I also know you need to lead this camp, and I also know you can’t do that if you’re dead on your feet,” Armin countered, stepping closer. “This camp doesn’t run if you collapse from exhaustion.”  

Eren gritted his teeth, leaning back slightly, but the frustration in his expression didn’t mask the deeper exhaustion lurking beneath. “The enemy made their move, Armin.”  

Armin’s expression darkened. “I’m aware.”  

Eren inhaled sharply through his nose, hands clenching into fists. “They slaughtered an entire village up north. The troops stationed nearby, led by Nile Dok —the famous strategist and rational Captain of the North? Gone . They didn’t stand a fucking chance.”  

Armin stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He knows this–he already heard it days ago from the same man in front of him, but he let Eren get everything out.

Eren continued, his voice strained. “The General sent word— to train harder . But what the hell am I supposed to do, Armin?! We barely have 100 men left! That’s much less than what we started with! We’ve sent more soldiers home than we’ve kept, and the ones that are staying still have a long way to go!” He let out a frustrated growl, shoving a hand through his already-messy hair. “I can’t afford to slow down. I won’t slow down. If I don’t push them, if I don’t push myself , we lose. And if we lose, we die ! And I can’t afford for my men to die, can’t have Jean or Connie— you die!”  

A heavy silence stretched between them as Eren set his hands on the table, hung his head between his shoulders, while Armin stared the back of his friend. 

Then, Armin sighed and placed a firm hand on Eren’s shoulder, squeezing it just slightly. “Eren. I get it. I really do, and I appreciate that you are looking out for the boys and me. But you have to take care of yourself, too.”  

Eren scoffed lightly, lifting his head to look at him. “Yeah? And when exactly am I supposed to do that?”  

Armin rolled his eyes. “ Right now , you idiot.”  

Eren opened his mouth to argue, but Armin cut him off.  

“You’ve worked hard. We all have. The men who stayed? They made it through the worst of it. Tomorrow’s training is important, yeah—but it won’t mean a damn thing if our Captain is drained and not thinking straight. You need to rest, Eren. I need you to rest.”  

Eren’s tense shoulders finally slumped just slightly. 

He let out a long breath, his hands fisting on the table.  

“Damn it,” he muttered. “I hate when you’re right.”  

Armin smirked, squeezing his shoulder again before pulling away. “Then you must hate me all the time.”  

Eren let out a small, tired chuckle before shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll take a break.”  

Armin’s smirk softened into something more relieved. “Good. Go take a long bath and actually rest. Tomorrow’s going to be rough, and we need you at full strength.”  

Eren exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he stepped away from the table. “Yeah, yeah.”  

Armin watched as his best friend finally relented, making his way toward the exit.  

Eren paused at the tent’s entrance, glancing back. “You gonna rest too?”  

Armin sighed. “Eventually. I’ll clean up a bit here first.”  

Eren gave a lazy nod before stepping out into the night, disappearing into the dimly lit camp.  

Armin stared at the mess of maps and reports on the table, his tired eyes lingering on the grim reality they faced. 

He was scared to death, but he knew it would be all right with his best friend leading them.  

Eren grabbed his bathing supplies, it was time to give his overworked mind a break. A bath at the lake under the quiet night sky was exactly what he needed.

He stepped out into the crisp night air, his boots crunching softly against the dirt as he made his way toward the lake. The camp was eerily silent, save for the occasional soft snores of soldiers fast asleep in their tents. 

He smirked at the sound. 

The men were thoroughly exhausted, as they should be. 

The training was brutal this past week, but it was necessary.

As he approached the lake and the trees started to thin, he inhaled deeply, already feeling the tension in his shoulders begin to ease as his sense of smell picked up the lake’s natural, earthy odor. 

But as he stepped onto the forest’s edge, his feet stopped abruptly.

There she was .

She was gathering her belongings near the shoreline, her movements deliberate but unhurried. Even from a distance, he could see the faint sheen of water clinging to her skin and the damp strands of her short raven-black hair falling on her night-obscured face. 

It was her . 

Eren’s heart skipped a beat, then began to race, thundering in his chest like a war drum. It had been weeks since their strange and fleeting encounters at the lake, and though he would never admit it aloud, he’d come back here countless times, hoping to see her again , to bathe . Each time, he’d been met with nothing but the stillness of the water and his own frustration.

But now, here she was, real and tangible, not some figment of his imagination conjured up by exhaustion and longing.

He froze, unsure of what to do. 

If he called out to her, she’d probably bolt. 

So he stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her in silence.

Damn it, he felt like a creep.

But how she moved with unassuming grace, her focus entirely on her task as she packed away her things, made Eren entranced. The moonlight painted her in a soft, ethereal glow, highlighting every curve and line of her figure, yet he squinted to see her face, but it was too dark, and her hair fell around her face since she was looking down.

Eren swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

His mind raced, torn between logic and impulse. He knew he should just turn around and come back later, this was inappropriate stalking , irrational, and he had no reason to pursue her further. 

And yet, his stubborn heart refused to let him leave.

‘Who are you?’ he wondered, his fists clenching at his sides.

She adjusted her tunic around her slim waist, seemingly lost in thought as she tied the belt securely. For a brief moment, she paused, looking out at the water, and Eren’s chest tightened.

The urge to call out to her surged within him, but he bit it back. He didn’t want to scare her away again. Instead, he stood there, letting the silence stretch between them, his own feelings a storm raging within.

Eren felt his chest tighten as he stood there, watching the mysterious woman he had been unintentionally—and undeniably—drawn to for weeks. The guilt gnawed at him, the realization sinking in that his actions were more than justifiable curiosity. He was staring at her like some kind of creep.

This had to stop.

Clearing his throat deliberately, he saw her body tense instantly. 

She froze, her back to him, her head tilting just slightly as if trying to gauge his next move. Eren stepped forward cautiously, the soft crunch of his boots against the forest floor breaking the stillness of the night.

Her reaction was immediate. 

She hunched over slightly, keeping her face turned away, her posture defensive. He could see the way her shoulders trembled faintly, whether from fear or tension, he didn’t know.

“Hi! It’s me—the guy from the other day?” he said quickly, his voice faltering with a nervous edge. He inwardly cursed himself for sounding so unsure. “I’m not… I didn’t mean to scare you–again.”

She didn’t reply, but he noticed the way her hands fidgeted at her sides, as though she were preparing to bolt at any moment.

“What, um…” he began, then hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “What are you doing here?”

Her head dipped lower, and she fisted her hands tightly on her sides, her voice quiet and shaky. “I… I won’t come here anymore. I’m sorry.”

Something in her tone made his chest ache, though he couldn’t explain why. 

It wasn’t fear exactly, but resignation. 

The thought of not seeing her again, of her disappearing into the shadows of this camp without a trace, filled him with an inexplicable sense of disappointment.

She bent down and quickly began to get her stuff, and Eren panicked, his voice rushed out. “I didn’t think I’d see you here again—but I think I told you this before—It’s not safe for a woman to come here at night,” he said.

She stiffened at that, her fingers curling into her things. “I know that,” she said softly, but there was a hint of defiance in her voice. “But I have fighting experience, and I know the men here are… respectable.”

Eren blinked at her response, slightly taken aback. Fighting experience? He couldn’t see her face, but her voice carried a confidence that belied the way she hunched over.

“You have fighting experience?” he echoed skeptically, his brows furrowing. 

She said nothing, her head dipping further as if his doubt stung her.

“I don’t think you understand,” he pressed. “It’s dangerous—”

“I understand perfectly,” she interrupted, her voice sharper now. She turned her head slightly, though she still kept her face hidden, and she stood up. “But I won’t come here anymore. You don’t need to worry about me.”

She began to move as if to leave. 

Panic flashed through Eren again, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “ Wait !”

She froze, glancing at him warily from the corner of her eye.

Eren swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t let her leave—not without knowing more, not without understanding why she was here, why she consumed his thoughts so thoroughly. “I… I went to the town,” he said abruptly, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Her posture stiffened. “ The town ?” she echoed cautiously.

“The one you’re supposedly from,” he clarified, his tone turning slightly condescending. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to mask his nerves. “I went there. I asked around for you.”

Mikasa widened her eyes as she took a sharp breath in. “You… you went to town?” she stammered, clearly struggling to process his words. “Looking for… me ?”

Eren’s face heated, and he averted his gaze, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t find you,” he muttered, his tone almost defensive. “Turns out, you might not even live there.”

While he didn’t know for sure, he baited her to see if she actually lied. 

Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. She stared at the water, utterly stunned, as if the thought of someone like him seeking her out was too absurd to comprehend.

“So,” Eren continued, taking a step closer. His gaze locked onto the back of her pretty obsidian hair, his voice quieter but no less insistent. “Where are you really from?”

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line as if weighing her options. Eren held his breath, his heart pounding as he waited for her answer. For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, it felt like this moment was more important than anything else.

Mikasa kept her face hidden, as her mind raced for an answer. She needed to come up with something believable, a lie so convincing it would deter any further questioning. A town—a name. 

Any name. 

But her thoughts tangled together in a panic, and nothing coherent formed in her mind.

The Captain’s eyes were fixed on her, unyielding, and it only made his chest tighten further. She could feel the weight of his curiosity pressing down on her, demanding answers she couldn’t give.

Then, inspiration struck. 

Merchant . 

She could be a traveling merchant. 

That would explain her presence here, her reason for wandering into the camp’s vicinity and for him not finding her in the town.

“I’m… a merchant ,” she said, her voice trembling slightly before she forced it to steady. “I travel between towns and settlements to trade supplies.”

She inwardly cringed, bracing herself for skepticism. 

“A merchant , huh?” he repeated, his voice laced with curiosity but free of suspicion.

Relief washed over her like a wave, and she had to fight to keep it from showing on her body.

Thank all the spirits. 

If Sasha were here, Mikasa was certain her friend would’ve burst into applause at her impromptu performance.

Eren seemed to accept her explanation, though his posture remained rigid, his arms crossed as if trying to maintain some semblance of authority and indignation, though he never felt it. The two of them stood in awkward silence for a moment, the tension palpable.

Mikasa shifted on her feet, clutching her belongings tightly to her chest. She could feel his heated gaze darting toward her and then away again, as though he couldn’t decide whether to continue the conversation or let her go.

“So… what do you trade?” Eren asked suddenly, somewhat awkwardly, breaking the quiet.

Mikasa tensed, not expecting him to keep pressing for details. “Cloth,” she said quickly, latching onto the first thing that came to mind. “Sometimes tools. Whatever the towns need.”

Eren nodded again, and she could tell he was struggling to find something else to say.

She could almost see the gears turning in his head, as though he were trying to grasp at anything to keep the interaction going. But Mikasa slightly shifted and slowly directed her body toward the treeline, ready to bolt just in case. 

It was strange—almost endearing in a way. He didn’t strike her as the type to struggle with words, she was sometimes a victim of his harsh words. And yet here he was, fumbling for a topic like a boy unaccustomed to talking with a girl.

But Mikasa felt like a bowstring pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to leave, to disappear before her fragile lie unraveled.

She opened her mouth, the words of farewell forming on her tongue, when Eren spoke again.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his tone softer now, almost hesitant.

Mikasa froze again for the umpteenth time, her heart thundering in her chest. She hadn’t prepared for this—hadn’t thought he’d want to know her name.

Eren took a small step closer, his green eyes looking at her with an intensity that made it hard to breathe–she could feel it, though not looking at him. “Mine’s Eren .”

Her grip on her belongings tightened even further, her knuckles turning white, her wide eyes staring at the dark water. She could give him a fake name, something simple, something forgettable. But the way he talked to her, like he genuinely wanted to know, made it harder than it should’ve been.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“I’m…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “ Mikasa .”

The name slipped out before she could stop it, her real name, her identity.

Eren’s eyes widened slightly, fearing how his heart almost leaped out of his chest at how much it liked to hear her speak. Then his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, and he repeated it softly, as though tasting the word.

“ Mikasa .”

Hearing him say her name sent an inexplicable shiver down her spine. 

She nodded stiffly, her heart pounding as she forced herself to step back, inching toward the path that led away from the lake.

“What a pretty name—”

“I-I should go,” she murmured, avoiding another conversation— hell , being close to him altogether.

She walked away and Eren’s smile faded, and his brows knitted together. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Wait, wait!” 

Mikasa froze mid-step, her back still to him, the tension in her shoulders visible even from a distance. Eren's heart pounded in his chest, a chaotic rhythm of hope and desperation. “Will I… meet you again?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty as Mikasa’s fingers gripped her belongings so tightly it hurt. “Could… could you meet me here tomorrow ? At the same time?”

She didn’t answer. 

Eren felt the silence pressing down on him as panic surged in his chest, his mind racing for something— anything —to keep her from disappearing into the night before she agreed. 

The question hung in the air, heavy and fragile. Eren felt like he’d just laid his heart bare, exposing himself in a way he’d never done before. Hope bloomed in his chest, mingling with the fear of rejection.

Mikasa stiffened, her breath stolen from her lungs when she heard the Captain’s words. 

Of course , she couldn’t agree!

How could she?! 

If he saw her face, if he connected the dots, he’d know she wasn’t the mysterious merchant she claimed to be. 

He’d realize she was ‘Miko’, the male Ackerman soldier under his command.

So she took a breath and shook her head. 

“ No ,” she said firmly, her voice clipped.

The word hit Eren like a cold gust of wind, deflating the hope that had swelled within him. 

But he wasn’t ready to give up—not yet. 

He wasn’t named hard-headed for a reason, right?

“ Mikasa ,” he said, stepping closer to her stiff frame, his tone softer now. “It doesn’t have to be anything serious. I just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words, a lie at this point. “I want to talk. To… trade goods ,” he added quickly, latching onto the excuse as though it were a lifeline.

Mikasa inwardly cursed herself for the lie she’d told earlier. It came back to bite her ass.

Her grip tightened on her belongings, her mind scrambling for a way out. “I don’t have anything to trade at the moment,” she said, her voice sharp with an edge of anxiety.

Eren’s brows furrowed, but he wasn’t deterred. “Then maybe I can offer you something. Supplies? Food? Tools? Weapons?” His voice held a note of desperation, and Mikasa could feel his determination bearing down on her like a weight.

“I don’t need anything,” she insisted, her tone growing more strained. She could feel herself running out of excuses, and the tension in her chest was almost unbearable.

Eren stepped closer, his green eyes pleading. “Then just… meet me . No trading, no strings attached. I promise. I just…” His voice faltered, then steadied. “ I want to talk to you again .”

Mikasa’s heart clenched at his words, and she cursed herself for the situation she’d found herself in. She couldn’t keep up with his persistence, couldn’t think of another lie that wouldn’t collapse under his scrutiny.

‘What the hell did I got myself into— great , good job, Mikasa.’

And she felt like if she refused, he would press her into an explanation—she learned that he could be really stubborn. 

Finally, she exhaled sharply, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his earnestness. “Fine,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Just talking. Nothing else .”

Relief washed over Eren’s face, and a huge smile broke through his face. “Okay,” he said quickly, as though afraid she might change her mind. “Tomorrow, then. Same time.”

Mikasa nodded curtly, her heart pounding as she turned and walked away, leaving Eren standing by the lake with a look of quiet elation on his face.

As she disappeared into the shadows, Mikasa cursed herself for agreeing. 

She knew she was walking a tightrope, and one wrong step could expose everything. 

But for now, she had no choice but to play along—and hope that tomorrow wouldn’t be the day her facade crumbled.

Chapter Text

The faint light of dawn filtered through the thin canvas of Mikasa’s tent as she stirred awake. She blinked a few times, shaking off the remnants of restless dreams. 

It was early—earlier than most would dare rise—but Mikasa’s internal clock had never failed her. She sat up, rolling her shoulders and stretching to chase away the stiffness that came from another night spent on a thin bedroll.

Rising quickly, she began her morning routine. 

First, she slipped on her bindings and then her worn tunic, the motions precise and efficient, a habit born from weeks of discipline. Then she grabbed her water canteen and stepped outside into the crisp morning air, savoring the brief moment of solitude before the camp came alive with the chaos of hundreds of soldiers preparing for another grueling day. She patted Titan’s neck, saying good morning to the beautiful horse. 

She then moved near the tree of her small makeshift camp and began a series of stretches and warm-up exercises. Her body moved fluidly, muscle memory guiding her through each motion. As her muscles loosened, her mind began to wander, already anticipating the challenges ahead.

Training today, she thought, her brow furrowing. 

She couldn’t help but shiver at the memory of yesterday, Lieutenant Springer’s words about training with the Captain himself. 

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered the possibilities for today’s regimen. Would they continue their archery and survival training, or would they be thrust into something even more unforgiving? 

The thought made her pause mid-stretch. 

She shivered again, her horror at the unknown deepening as she speculated. 

Mikasa took a deep breath, willing herself to push the dread aside. Whatever came, she would endure it. 

She had to. 

Her gaze drifted toward the center of camp, where the first bugle call blasted through the camp. Mikasa exhaled, standing to her full height, and readied herself for the day ahead.

After the morning jog and then breakfast, all the rookies from each group were lined up in attention, in one sole group, waiting for the Captain and the First Lieutenants.

The Captain is going to address them, and then they will begin their training under him—battle drills and team performance, test and refresh what they have learned under his Lieutenants. 

Moments later, Eren walked toward the men and stood on a small platform in front of the formation, his Lieutenants flanking him. The usual stern, calculating demeanor that governed his every action for the past week felt different today, his soldiers noticed. 

His original troops, the ones who had trained under him long before the draft, stood with a quiet, disciplined air, their eyes locked on their leader.

There was something else—a strange bubbling of excitement they couldn’t quite place radiating from Eren. 

And Eren knew the reason, of course, but admitting it to himself felt foreign.

‘It’s just a meeting with her,’ he told himself, trying to shake the unexpected warmth spreading through his chest. But no matter how he tried to push it down, the anticipation only grew. Tonight, Mikasa would meet him at the lake. 

Damn it, he can’t help but repeat her name in his mind. And the thought of seeing her again made his heart race, a feeling he hadn’t quite experienced before.

“Captain?” Armin had brought him out of his thoughts, looking at him curiously at his pause. His other two Lieutenants glanced at him too, as everyone in the line stood at attention, waiting, at their Captain. 

Eren looked at him and realized his mistake. Quickly, he cleared his throat and looked at the 100 male recruits in front of him.

‘ Focus , Jaeger.’

“Alright,” he began, his voice carrying through the air. The recruits stood straighter, their eyes focused on him as he spoke. “First and foremost, I want to personally thank you for being here and showing me that you are capable—you have proven me wrong,” Eren sought ‘Miko’s’ gaze, making the guy stiffen even more but maintaining ‘his’ Captain’s gaze. The corner of Eren’s mouth curled and then looked at the rest, “Unfortunately, the enemy has made their first move.”  

The words hung heavy in the air, and an uneasy murmur rippled through the ranks. Mikasa, standing amongst the recruits, felt a chill run down her spine. 

“ Shit ,” Reiner, beside her muttered. 

And Mikasa couldn’t agree more. 

Eren’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd, silencing any whispers before he continued.  

“A village up north has been slaughtered.” His voice was even and controlled, but beneath it was a simmering fury that sent chills through his men. “ Wiped out . Every man, woman, and child—and the troops stationed there, you may ask?” His jaw tightened. “ Eliminated . They didn’t stand a fucking chance.”  

Silence. 

Some of the recruits paled. 

Others clenched their fists, swallowing hard.  

Eren let the weight of his words sink in before he continued, his voice lowering just slightly. “The enemy is strong. They are brutal. They are prepared.” His next words came out measured, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stared his men down. “And I respect them for that.”  

The soldiers stiffened, eyes widening. 

They hadn’t expected that.  

Eren nodded. “Yes, you heard me right. They are strong and relentless. And that is exactly why we cannot take them lightly.” He stepped down the low platform, his gaze burned into every man before him. “We are up against an army that doesn’t hesitate. That doesn’t show mercy. That doesn’t care for anything other than absolute victory.”  

He let the words sink in, let the fear take hold—just for a moment.  

Then, he changed his tone.  

“But I refuse to let fear take over this camp,” Eren declared, his voice growing stronger, sharper. “Fear makes men weak. Fear makes men run. Fear is exactly what the enemy wants .”  

He took another step forward, steps away from the first row, his passion igniting the air around him.  

“Tell me, are you afraid?”  

No one spoke.  

Eren smirked. “I didn’t hear you. Are you afraid?”  

Most of them, hesitantly, called out. “No, sir!”  

Eren narrowed his eyes. “I still don’t believe you! Are you afraid !?”  

“NO, SIR!!” This time, stronger, everyone shouted. 

Eren nodded approvingly. “Good. Because the men who fell in the north— they weren’t afraid either .”  

That made the rookies pause.

What was the Captain going with this?

Eren began walking back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. “They stood their ground and fought. Yet they died . But do you think their deaths were meaningless?” His voice dropped lower, almost deadly. “Do you think they died for nothing?”  

A murmur of protest ran through the crowd, but Eren wasn’t done. He stopped and walked back to the platform. Front and middle, so he can look over his men.

“They didn’t die for nothing,” he growled. “They died so we could live. They died so we could stand here today.” His fists clenched as his voice roared across the camp. “And if we all die, does that mean our lives were meaningless?”  

A deafening silence filled the campgrounds as they all listened with rapture to their Captain.

Mikasa’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched him, completely enthralled. This was a totally different man from last night. The man from last night was shy and awkward– this man is direct and confident. 

Eren’s next words came slow, deliberately. “No. Our lives have meaning because we refuse to forget them.” He stared at his soldiers down as his voice rang clear. “We carry their names! We carry their sacrifice! We honor them by standing here, ready to fight! Ready to protect what they no longer can! Our lives have meaning because we will not let them die in vain!”  

His Lieutenants, standing on the back, exchanged small smiles.  

This was the Eren Jaeger they knew. 

Passionate. 

Unrelenting. 

Someone who could make men believe in something bigger than themselves.

Often calling him a ‘ suicidal maniac ’.  

Eren’s green eyes swept across the recruits, burning with intensity.  

“So stand tall!” he commanded. “Train harder and fight harder! Because we do not run or cower! We do not give in! We protect our empire!”  

A ripple of determination spread through the soldiers, and the fear in their eyes was replaced with something else. 

Resolve .  

Eren’s heart soared at the sight of his men being ready to face anything—he was scared too, he is human after all. Years of fighting battles ‘soothed’ the fear, that it might be the last battle for you. 

But he is the son of the great Army Commander, Grisha Jaeger. He is a soldier, he won’t cower, so he took a deep breath and his voice rang out one last time.  

“So we fight for our families and the people we love. And we will not lose !” Eren lifted his fist to the air, and a collective roar erupted from the soldiers, fists clenching in the air along with their Captain. 

The moment Captain Jaeger’s speech ended, a tidal wave of energy surged through the camp. The air, once filled with tension and fear, now crackled with something different— determination .  

Even Mikasa felt it—a fire, deep in her chest, roaring to life.  

Her fists clenched, her breath quickened, and before she even realized it, her voice ripped through the air in a primal, defiant roar.  

It wasn’t just a shout. It was a declaration .  

She would fight. She would protect. She would not let their fallen comrades be forgotten.  

Because Captain Jaeger was right.  

Their comrades in the north—men who had families, men who had dreams—were not meaningless like she is sure the enemy made them look. 

Their lives did not end in vain.  

What was the meaning of being born into this world if they allowed themselves to cower in fear? If they stood aside and let their empire crumble?  

No .

Mikasa, still with her head back, her voice joining the chorus of warriors around her as if her very soul demanded to be heard. 

She screamed for the fallen, for those who are sacrificing everything, and for those she loved.  

She would fight for them.  

For Sasha, who had always been by her side, laughing and supporting her, never caring about the whispers of the village.  

For Sasha’s family, the ones who had treated her like their own daughter.  

For Levi , who loves her, who raised her, protected her, who would never forgive her for what she had done—but whom she would protect all the same.  

Her eyes burned as she thought of them, her heart pounding, her body thrumming with energy. Her glossy gaze turned to her side as she saw Reiner, fists clenched, head tilted toward the sky as he roared .  

His voice was deep, guttural, and raw with emotion. His entire body vibrated with the same fire she felt, the same purpose. His face was alight with passion, his golden fierce eyes filled with tears threatening to fall.  

And it wasn’t just them.  

Apart from the rookies, the original troops screamed into the sky, their voices blending together, growing louder and stronger. Boots stomped against the dirt, hands clenched into fists, bodies vibrating with newfound determination.  

They were warriors fighting for the same purpose. 

Mikasa grinned—actually grinned—as she turned back to face forward, her chest heaving.  

This was it.  

This was what they were fighting for.  

She would not lose. 

Eren stood tall, surveying the sea of roaring soldiers before him, his heart pounding with pride.  

This was what he wanted.  

Not just blind obedience. 

Not just men who followed orders because they had to.  

He wanted warriors who believed .  

Soldiers who would fight with everything they had.  

His sharp green eyes flicked back to his Lieutenants, and to his satisfaction, even they had been swept up in the moment. Armin’s usually calm expression was alight with determination, his fists clenched at his sides as he smiled brightly at his friends. Jean, had his head thrown back as he roared with the men, his entire body vibrating with adrenaline. Connie, the ever-enthusiastic one, stood tall, his chest puffed out in pride, his voice adding to the symphony of battle cries.  

Eren allowed himself a small smile.  

Deep down, he knew his friends were all afraid.  

But again, even he was scared. But fear could be molded and reshaped into something else. 

Courage and rage. 

A reason to fight.  

His expression softened as he turned back to his soldiers. He raised a hand, fingers spread, a gesture to make his men settle. 

Slowly, the roaring died down as the men calmed down, their breaths still heavy, their blood still thrumming with adrenaline.  

Eren let the silence stretch for a moment before smirking. “Lastly, all of you may rest!”  

At this, everyone stopped, because did they hear their Captain right? 

Confused murmurs rippled through the ranks. What does Captain Jaeger mean by ‘rest’?

Eren crossed his arms, looking down at his recruits with an amused glint in his eye. “You’ve earned it. Take the rest of the day off.”  

Disbelief spread across the crowd as they all murmured with each other. Mikasa blinked in shock too, her body still tense, still ready for more orders. A stunned silence fell over the group. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and a few soldiers blinked in disbelief, unsure if they had heard correctly.

“You’re… giving us the day off?” one of the recruits asked, almost too incredulous to speak.

“Yes,” Eren replied with an air of nonchalance, though the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Louder whispers broke out among the troops, some voicing their disbelief, others exchanging excited glances. They couldn’t believe their ears.

Even his Lieutenants whipped their heads toward him, their earlier excitement shifting into immediate skepticism.  

Jean leaned in, whispering, “Have you lost your mind?”  

Armin frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”  

Connie blinked rapidly, looking as if he’d just witnessed Eren sprout wings and fly.  

Eren waved them off dismissively, already stepping down the platform. “Relax,” He smirked over his shoulder to his troops. “Because tomorrow morning will be grueling .”  

And with that, he strode off toward the command tent, his Lieutenants scrambling to follow him, still muttering their protests.  

Mikasa watched him go, still trying to process what had just happened.  

She’d never seen the Captain so at ease .  

The easy smile on his lips, the relaxed way he carried himself—it was different from his usual sharp, commanding presence.  

It was strangely… human .  

Once the Captain and his First Lieutenants were out of their sight, the whole camp cheered as they scrambled to enjoy their day. 

Mikasa chuckled to herself as she walked away, already thinking about what she wanted to do. 

But a deep chuckle snapped her out of her thoughts.  

“Come on, Miko,” Reiner’s voice rumbled behind her, his strong arm slinging heavily around her shoulders, stopping her. 

She huffed but didn’t push him away as he accompanied her to her tent.  

“We’re going into town,” he announced confidently as if she had already agreed. “We deserve some real food after all that training. What do you say?”  

Mikasa rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips.  

She did need to feed Titan anyway…  

And maybe, just for today, she could allow herself to enjoy a moment of peace.

Moments ago…

Behind him, Armin’s face was a mixture of shock and concern. “Captain, is that a good idea?” he asked, his voice carrying the weight of his usual caution. “We can’t afford to lose focus.”

“I think they’ve earned a little break, don’t you think?” Eren replied, his tone light but carrying a hint of something more.

Armin exchanged a glance with Connie and Jean, who only raised their eyebrow in response. They were stunned, but it was clear that they weren’t about to question a Captain’s decision.

Eren, still feeling oddly giddy, continued to walk towards the tent. “But not you three. You’re not getting the day off,” he added over his shoulder, looking back at his Lieutenants. “Follow me.”

The three of them stiffened slightly, halting their steps, unsure whether Eren was joking or serious. But one look at his face told them that it was no joke. They quickly nodded, preparing themselves for whatever else their Captain had in mind as they followed him. 

Eren didn’t wait for them to catch up as he started toward his tent, his gait brisk and purposeful. 

As he neared the tent, his mind briefly returned to the thought of Mikasa . 

Tonight, he reminded himself, as a surge of excitement coursed through him. 

He couldn’t wait to see her again, to finally have a conversation without all the walls he’d put up. He had no idea where it would lead, but for the first time in a long time, Eren felt something more than just the pressure of the war.

And for once, he wasn’t thinking about the next strategy, the next battle.

For the first time in a long time, his mind was preoccupied with something—or rather, someone —else.

His heart felt lighter than it had in months—maybe even years . He tried to suppress the small smile threatening to spread across his face, but found it impossible. The reason for his mood was clear in his mind, though he wouldn’t dare say it out loud—he was looking forward to his meeting with her tonight.

He felt almost foolish. 

‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ he thought, shaking his head slightly as he ducked into the tent. 

But the answer was obvious. 

Ever since she had agreed to meet him, he’d felt something akin to hope, a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to experience in a long time.

As Armin, Connie, and Jean stepped inside the tent behind him, they found Eren already rummaging through the maps and scrolls, his energy unusually high.

“Eren,” Armin began cautiously, “are you feeling okay?”

Jean crossed his arms, leaning against the side of the tent. “You’re acting strange, Cap. What’s going on?”

Eren straightened, fixing them with a sharp look. “Nothing’s going on. Just felt like cutting them some slack today. Is that a crime?”

Jean shrugged, though his suspicion didn’t waver. “If you say so.”

Armin, ever perceptive, studied Eren’s face for a moment longer before deciding to drop the matter. 

Connie had the same idea. “What’s the plan for tomorrow, then?” he asked, steering the conversation back to business.

Eren’s expression shifted slightly, the giddiness tamped down as he focused on the question. “Tomorrow, we push them harder. Today’s break is going to cost them.”

Jean smirked, Armin sighed, and Connie chuckled at Eren’s words.

The ride into town was lively, the tension of training and battle preparations momentarily forgotten as Mikasa, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt let loose, cracking jokes and teasing one another.  

Marco and Bertholdt were now part of Mikasa and Reiner’s group, and all four of them found a bond in the last days of Lieutenant Springer’s training. 

The small town they approached wasn’t grand by any means, but it had everything they were looking for—food, drinks, and a change of scenery. The streets were bustling with merchants calling out their wares, children running around, and people going about their day.

Their horses trotted leisurely down the cobbled path, Titan snorting beneath Mikasa as she absentmindedly patted his neck, listening as Marco animatedly retold a particularly disastrous training session, complete with exaggerated gestures.  

“…and then Dietrich tripped over the damn log he was supposed to be using for cover, rolled down the hill, and somehow still managed to hit the target. I don’t know how the hell he does it.”  

Bertholdt chuckled, shaking his head. “I swear, that man survives on pure luck.”  

Reiner laughed heartily, his broad shoulders shaking. “Either that or sheer dumb determination.”  

Mikasa chuckled as well, enjoying the moment, the rare feeling of normalcy.  

The conversation soon took a turn when Marco, ever the curious one, grinned and leaned forward slightly. “Alright, since we’re in town and all, let’s talk about something other than training for once.”  

Reiner raised a brow. “Like what?”  

Marco smirked. “ Women .”  

Mikasa stiffened ever so slightly but forced herself to stay relaxed.  

“Oh, easy,” Reiner said with confidence, back straight. “I like kind and shy girls. Small build. I like the idea of shielding her, you know? Makes me feel like I’m protecting something precious.”  

Mikasa found herself smiling fondly at her friend, despite the awkwardness creeping up her spine. Reiner always had a soft heart beneath all that muscle.  

Bertholdt, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “I like girls who aren’t afraid to speak their minds, regardless of the norm. Someone independent… but deep down, she still cares.”  

Mikasa chuckled at that, shaking her head. She could already imagine Bertholdt marrying some strong-willed, stoic woman who secretly doted on him behind closed doors.  

Marco grinned. “Me? I don’t care much as long as she’s ‘normal’ and yet positive. A good cook is a plus, though.”  

They all laughed, the lighthearted conversation flowing easily—until Reiner suddenly kicked Mikasa’s calf, making her jolt in her saddle.  

She cursed, glaring at him. Growling. “The hell was that for?”  

Reiner smirked, ignoring her question and glare. “What about you, Miko?”  

Mikasa felt her stomach tighten. 

Well, shit .  

The others turned to her expectantly, waiting for an answer.  

She swallowed thickly, looking off to the side as she racked her brain for a response that wouldn’t raise suspicion. Finally, she let out a chuckle, her voice into the deep tone she uses now as a muscle memory. 

“Well… a girl who can cook, sew… overall, a great wife,” she said, but before she could stop herself, the real part of her bled through.  

“…but also, someone with a brain. Someone who speaks her mind. And who I will treat as an equal.”  

She finishes and looks at them, and she is met with stoic faces and silence.  

Then the men around her burst into laughter.  

Mikasa’s frown deepened, her fingers twitching against Titan’s reins. She was about to argue to defend her opinion when Reiner leaned over to clap her hard on the back, his voice still rich with amusement.  

“Good luck finding that jewel .”  

The rest agreed with her, and Mikasa was left speechless, Titan slowing his pace, almost sensing his owner’s feelings. The rest continued talking, not realizing she had slowed down and left her behind. 

She was shocked because she thought all men wanted submissive wives. 

Someone who kept the house clean and tidy, cooked meals, cared for their children, and was presentable and welcoming to her husband—the perfect ‘traditional wife’. 

Mikasa was glad that at least another three men she knew didn’t want that, so she huffed but let out a small chuckle, shaking her head.  

She knew she had to play the part of a soldier among comrades, but deep down, she meant every word she said.  

Because if she ever had the chance to be a woman again, she knew exactly the kind of man she’d want to love.  

And she sure as hell wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Mikasa swung her leg over Titan and landed on the ground with practiced ease, giving her trusty stallion a firm pat on the neck. “Rest up, boy,” she murmured, watching as Titan huffed and shook his head, likely eager to graze after the ride.  

The streets were bustling with life. 

The scent of fresh bread and sizzling meat wafted through the air as vendors called out their goods to passing customers. Mikasa’s eyes caught sight of several soldiers from their camp, scattered among the crowds—some bartering at market stalls, others exiting shops with new supplies in hand, and a few simply strolling, enjoying their brief respite from training.  

A small smile tugged at her lips.  

For just a moment, it almost felt like they were ‘normal’ young men, free of the weight of war looming over them.  

"Come on, Miko," Reiner called over his shoulder, jerking his head toward a small shop nestled between two larger buildings.  

Mikasa followed after him, trailing beside Marco and Bertholdt as they stepped into what seemed to be a pawn store. The space was dimly lit, shelves lined with trinkets, old weapons, and items long forgotten by their previous owners.  

Reiner strode toward the counter, fishing something out from his satchel. “Hello there, sir! I’m selling some of my stuff,” he said nonchalantly, then looked back at his friends. “Figured I could use the coins to buy us a round at the bar.”  

Marco, Bertholdt, and Mikasa immediately shook their heads.  

“You don’t have to do that,” Marco insisted. “We’re fine—”  

Reiner silenced them with a sharp look, setting the items onto the wooden counter. “I want to.”  

Mikasa sighed, but she knew better than to argue with him when he got like this. She folded her arms, leaning against a nearby shelf as she watched the exchange.  

The owner, an old man with weathered hands and kind eyes, inspected Reiner’s belongings with a quiet hum. He nodded in approval, carefully counting out the payment.  

But before handing the coins over, the old man suddenly straightened and bowed deeply.  

“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity. “For fighting for our empire.”  

The room fell silent.  

Mikasa felt her chest tighten as she exchanged glances with her friends. There was something about the weight in the old man’s voice that made it clear—he wasn’t just thanking them specifically.  

He was thanking every soldier. Every man who had left their home to protect the empire.  

Reiner was the first to respond. He stepped back and bowed in return, his usual confident demeanor replaced with quiet respect. Marco, Bertholdt, and Mikasa followed suit, lowering their heads in unison.  

“We’ll fight for you, too,” Reiner murmured.  

The old man’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile as he handed over the coins.  

As they stepped back onto the lively streets, Reiner glanced down at his palm—and let out a soft chuckle.  

Mikasa raised an eyebrow. “What?”  

Reiner held up the coins, shaking his head in amusement. “Old geezer gave me more than we agreed on.”  

Marco grinned, Bertholdt chuckled, and Mikasa’s smile returned as she nudged Reiner with her elbow. “Guess that means you have to treat us to more than just one round, huh?”  

Reiner groaned but chuckled as they weaved through the crowd.  

The bar loomed ahead, warm light spilling from its windows, the sound of laughter and music drifting into the streets.  

Mikasa took one last glance around, inhaling the scent of roasted meat and spiced ale.  

Tonight, they weren’t just soldiers.  

They were young men, (and a woman), enjoying a night of freedom before the war called them back.  

And for just a little while… she’d let herself enjoy it too.

Mikasa lowered herself in front of a small round table as Reiner took the seat beside her, while Marco and Bertholdt settled across from them. The bar was packed, filled with rowdy soldiers making the most of their rare free time. The warm glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows against the wooden walls, the scent of sake, roasted meat, and pipe smoke was thick in the air. The staff bustled around, trying their best to keep up with the overwhelming demand. It was clear they were short-staffed, but they managed, laughing and calling out orders as they weaved between the tables.  

Mikasa observed the scene in silence, taking in the lively atmosphere. It was strange, seeing so many men laughing and drinking together, knowing that soon they would all be marching into battle.  

A soft, melodic voice interrupted her thoughts.  

"Good evening, gentlemen! What can I get for you?"  

Mikasa’s gaze flicked up to see a young blonde woman standing beside their table. She was beautiful—hazel almond-shaped eyes framed by long, fluttering lashes, golden hair falling on top of her shoulders. There was a bright, welcoming smile on her lips as she held her notepad at the ready, her presence instantly drawing the attention of the men around them.  

Reiner immediately straightened in his seat, flashing one of his signature confident grins. Marco and Bertholdt weren’t as bold, but they were clearly interested, shifting in their seats and stealing glances at the woman.  

Mikasa, however, was utterly unfazed.  

As the men ordered their meals and drinks, the waitress’s gaze lingered on Mikasa, something akin to intrigue flickering in her eyes.  

"And what about you?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost playful.  

Mikasa, deepening her voice, ordered a simple meal and a cup of warm tea. She didn’t trust herself with sake—drinking while keeping up a disguise was a terrible idea.  

As the waitress jotted down their order and then smiling at them, saying she will be right be back with their drinks. She winked at Mikasa before turning on her heel, gracefully making her way back to the kitchen. 

Reiner howled with laughter. “Oh, she wants you, alright.”  

Bertholdt grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a waitress wink at a customer before.”  

Marco laughed loudly. “Miko! Who would have thought you were the most desirable man in this bar!”  

Mikasa groaned, dragging a hand down her face as the three of them burst into laughter.  

Marco suddenly kicks her leg, nearly making her jump out of her seat, and Mikasa glared at him, barely holding back a curse, confused as to why he did that.

What the hell was with her friends today? Were they trying to bruise her for sport?  

Marco, grinning mischievously, wiggled his eyebrows. “You gonna talk to her, Miko?”  

Mikasa almost laughed.  

The last thing she needed was to flirt with a woman when she was supposed to be disguised as a man.  

Reiner, smirking, leaned in. “Come on, she’s obviously interested.”  

At this, Mikasa blinked in surprise.

The waitress was interested in ‘ him ’?

Bertholdt chuckled. “She is very pretty.”  

Mikasa shot them all a deadpan look. “I’m not here to find a wife,” she muttered under her breath, barely keeping up her deepened voice.  

Marco, ever the troublemaker, gave an exaggerated sigh. “What a waste.”  

Reiner snickered, nudging her shoulder. “Guess shy girls aren’t your type after all, huh?”  

Mikasa rolled her eyes and focused on not setting them all on fire with her glare. Girls in general weren’t her type, but of course, she couldn’t tell them that. 

Mikasa was halfway through her meal when she felt the urge to excuse herself. Swallowing the last bite of her bread, she pushed back her chair and murmured, “I’ll be back.”  

Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt barely acknowledged her, too deep in their discussion about what was better, the river, lake, or beach.  

Mikasa weaved through the crowded tables, ducking and sidestepping the waitstaff rushing around with trays of drinks and steaming plates of food. She caught the eye of a waiter carrying a stack of empty dishes. “Excuse me,” she said, deepening her voice as much as she could. “Where’s the restroom?”  

The waiter, a young man with a tired but friendly face, jerked his chin toward the back of the establishment. “Straight ahead, past the storage room. Can’t miss it.”  

Mikasa gave a quick nod. “Thanks.”  

As she strode toward the back, she became vaguely aware of whispers trailing in her wake. She could feel a few sets of eyes on her, and hear the soft giggles of female patrons seated near the bar.  

“She’s so cute,” one woman murmured, too softly for her to pinpoint who said it. Mikasa widened her eyes at this but was quickly relieved when the next thing, she heard another woman.

“ He ,” another corrected with a hushed laugh. “That’s a man.”  

“Are you sure? He is too pretty.”  

Mikasa barely heard them, and rushed on reaching the restroom before she lost control of her disguise in public.  

She approached the two doors at the back, briefly glancing at the wooden plaques nailed above them—one marked for women, the other for men. Without thinking, she made a beeline for the door on the left.  

Just as her fingers grazed the handle, a sharp voice called out behind her.  

“Whoa, there, soldier! That’s the ladies' room, sweetheart.”  

Mikasa froze, a horrified realization shot through her like lightning.  

Shit .  

She had almost walked right into the women’s restroom as Miko .  

Slowly, she turned, eyes wide, and locked onto none other than the waitress from earlier.  

The blonde stood a few steps away, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at her lips.  

‘Miko’ let out an awkward chuckle, forcing herself to sound more casual than she felt. “Ah—shit, my mistake,” she said, deepening her voice as much as possible. “Long day.”  

The waitress tilted her head, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re not used to public restrooms or something?”  

Mikasa swallowed. “Something like that,” she muttered.  

The girl chuckled. “You know, you caused quite the stir the moment you stepped into the bar.”  

Mikasa frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”  

The waitress took a slow step forward, and Mikasa had to fight the urge to take a step back.  

“I mean, you took every woman’s attention the second you walked in,” the waitress purred, watching her carefully. “They think you’re pretty–which you are for being a guy.”  

Mikasa stiffened.  

Oh, no.  

The girl’s smirk deepened. “Almost too pretty. Honestly, you could pass as a woman with those delicate features of yours.”  

Mikasa’s face burned, and she looked away in embarrassment. 

The waitress laughed, seeing the unmistakable blush dusting ‘Miko’s’ cheeks. “Careful there, soldier,” she teased, stepping past her toward the storage room. “Blushing like that in front of other girls is how you really steal hearts.”  

Mikasa stood there, stiff as a board, as the girl disappeared into the back.  

For a solid five seconds, she could only blink at the empty space where the waitress had just stood, her mind desperately trying to reboot.  

Then, with a deep breath, she clenched her jaw and quickly darted into the correct restroom.  

‘This disguise is going to be the death of me.’

Not my pics, found them while browsing. The second link is kind of sus 🤣:

https://rinku_shina.artstation.com/projects/rA3b0O

https://www.reddit.com/r/bishounen/comments/tokl1d/male_mikasa_attack_on_titan/

Chapter Text

Eren paced back and forth in his tent, the sound of his boots against the hard ground doing little to calm his restless mind. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting golden hues through the small opening of his tent flap, but for Eren, time felt frozen. His hands brushed against the edge of his desk, stacked with reports and maps, as if touching the familiar papers might help him focus.

But focus was impossible.

He grabbed a report, skimmed it for the third time, and slammed it back onto the desk with a frustrated sigh. His mind was elsewhere—outside the walls of his tent, by the lake, where he would meet her. Mikasa. The name hung in his mind like a whisper, both grounding and unsettling.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a low growl. “What’s wrong with me?” he muttered under his breath. He’d faced battles, commanded troops, stared death in the face—and yet here he was, unable to stop fidgeting over the thought of one woman.

Eren grabbed a quill and tried jotting down notes on a new strategy, hoping the act of writing would help the hours pass. But after a few moments, he realized his hand had frozen mid-sentence, the ink bleeding into the parchment in a jagged blot. He tossed the quill away, groaning in frustration. Nothing could distract him. He wanted the night to come already.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the camp, Mikasa sat cross-legged on her bedroll inside her small tent. The flickering light of a small lantern cast shadows against the fabric walls, illuminating her furrowed brow. Her chest felt tight, and her mind was racing with conflicting thoughts.

‘Why did I agree to this?’ she wondered, biting her lip as she twisted the edge of her blanket between her fingers. The weight of her decision pressed down on her, making it hard to sit still. 

Her mind raced with doubts. ‘What if he recognizes me? What if I slip up and reveal too much?’ She groaned, flopping onto her back on the thin bedroll.

Her gaze drifted to the ceiling as she folded her hands over her stomach, trying to make sense of her emotions. “This is a mistake,” she murmured to herself, closing her eyes for a moment. “I shouldn’t have agreed to meet him again.”

But even as she said the words, she couldn’t deny the small, persistent part of her that wanted to see him. There was something about him whenever they meet at the lake—his curiosity, his determination, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her. It had been a while since someone had shown any interest in her–the guys in her village often tend to show interest, but then get swayed by gossip about her. And though it scared her that the Captain showed interest, it also felt… nice.

She rolled onto her side, tucking her knees up to her chest as her mind continued its relentless back-and-forth. ‘If he finds out I’m one of his soldiers…’ Her stomach churned at the thought, she couldn’t risk it.

And yet, a voice in the back of her mind whispered that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to take that risk.

Mikasa sat up abruptly, running a hand through her hair in frustration. She glanced toward the tent flap, where the darkness of the evening was beginning to creep in. “What am I doing?” she asked aloud, her voice tinged with exasperation.

For a moment, she considered staying put, ignoring the arrangement entirely. But something deep inside her—a strange mixture of curiosity and something she couldn’t put her finger on—urged her to follow through. ‘I need to keep my face hidden,’ she resolved. ‘Keep my answers vague. One meeting, and then I’ll make it clear I can’t do this again.’

Eren sat on a smooth rock by the lake, fingers absentmindedly brushing over the cool, damp moss growing along its edge. The moon was full tonight, casting its silver glow over the rippling water, but his eyes weren’t on the lake. Every few seconds, he found himself glancing toward the trees, his senses on high alert, waiting.  

But there was nothing. 

Just shadows swaying with the breeze. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, trying to will himself into patience. ‘She’ll come,’ he thought. ‘She said she would.’

But as the minutes stretched on, doubt crept into his mind. ‘ Maybe she had changed her mind and realized that last night had been a mistake—the danger of meeting a soldier, and decided it wasn’t worth it.’

He briefly closed his eyes, thinking to himself, ‘Tch. I was stupid to think she’d come back.’

Eren exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself, “Get a grip, Jaeger.”

Meanwhile, Mikasa paced in her small tent, clutching a strip of black fabric in her hands. Her mind raced as she debated her plan, twisting the cloth between her fingers as if the action might settle her nerves.

“A blindfold,” she murmured, half in disbelief and half in amusement. It sounded ridiculous, yet the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like the perfect solution. There was no way Captain Jaeger, the ever-proud and composed leader, would agree to such a condition. He’d find the idea insulting, laugh it off, and leave her alone.

She smiled to herself, a rare flicker of satisfaction. It was foolproof. If he truly refused, she wouldn’t have to risk him seeing her face or piecing together her identity.

But a small part of her wondered—’ what if he agreed?’ The thought made her pause, the smile slipping from her face as doubt crept in. Would she really be able to go through with this? Could she sit across from him, concealed and awkward, while he blindly stumbled his way through a conversation?

Shaking her head, Mikasa dismissed the thought. ‘He won’t agree,’ she assured herself.

So she stepped out of her tent and tightened her grip on the makeshift blindfold.

The camp was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of snores. Mikasa’s footsteps were soft against the dirt as she made her way toward the lake. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of apprehension and determination fueling her steps.

When she reached the edge of the forest, she slowed, peering through the trees until she spotted him. He was sitting by the water, his broad back turned to her, the moonlight outlining his silhouette.

For a moment, she hesitated. 

He looked… vulnerable, almost. His usual commanding presence seemed softened, replaced by a quiet anticipation that made her chest tighten. She hides behind a thick tree and takes a deep breath, opens her mouth to speak. 

Eren was about to call it a night, he had been waiting for nearly an hour now, wondering if she would actually show.

Maybe she wouldn’t.

Maybe she had changed her mind.

Maybe she had never planned to come at all.

Eren frowned, he didn’t know why that thought bothered him so much.

Just as he exhaled in frustration, ready to leave, a soft voice reached him from the shadows.

“Good evening,” came a soft, familiar voice from the darkness.  

Eren shot to his feet so fast that he nearly lost his balance. His sharp green eyes scanned the trees, seeking her out. But there was nothing—no movement, no silhouette. Just the whispering rustle of leaves in the night breeze. His heartbeat kicked up a notch, but his expression remained calm, controlled.  

“You came,” he said with no particular direction, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Mikasa sighs. “I did. But… there’s a condition.”

Eren raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of intrigue. “A condition?—wait. Where are you?” he asked, his voice steady despite the anticipation twisting inside him.

“I… I can’t let you see me,” she admitted after a pause. “But I still wanted to come.”  

Eren frowned. “Why?”  

Mikasa’s heartbeat fastens and she looks down at her feet from her spot behind the tree. “Because I said I would.”  

Something about that answer sent a strange feeling through him. Eren took a step forward to her voice, peering into the trees. “And why can’t I see you?”

Silence stretched between them as Eren kept scanning the tree line and Mikasa rested her forehead on the tree, feeling the rough bark—the Captain was a stubborn one, huh?

“Would you wear a blindfold?” Mikasa suddenly blurted. 

And it made Eren blink. “ What ?”  

“If you want to talk to me,” she said, her voice hesitant, as if she knew how ridiculous the request sounded. “You have to put on a blindfold.”  

Eren tilted his head, confused. “You’re serious?”  

From her hiding spot behind a tree, Mikasa smirked to herself upon hearing the incredulity in his voice.  

‘Perfect,’ Mikasa thought to herself. ‘This was it. He was going to refuse and call this ridiculous, walk away, and this whole mess would be over.’ 

She wouldn’t have to keep sneaking around, pretending to be someone she wasn’t—

“Alright,” Eren said with a nonchalant shrug. “If that’s what it takes.”  

Mikasa sputtered. 

‘What?! NO! That was not supposed to happen! He wasn't supposed to agree!’

She peeked from behind the tree, watching in disbelief as Eren casually stood there, hands on his hips as he waited for her. 

She couldn’t believe her luck. 

Of all the outcomes she had anticipated, this was the one she was not prepared for. She thought he’d laugh, dismiss her request, and leave her alone. That would’ve been perfect. But no—Captain Jaeger, in his maddening stubbornness, had agreed to her condition without a second thought.

Her body tensed as the weight of the situation hit her. She wanted to turn and bolt back to her tent, to come up with another outrageous condition that would make him walk away.

So she voiced her shock. “W-wait! Y-you’re really okay with this?!”  

Eren let out an amused huff. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He adjusted his stance. “If this is the only way you’ll talk to me, then fine. So be it,” Crossing his arms, he smirked slightly. “ Satisfied ?”  

Mikasa gawked at him. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ she wanted to bang her head on the tree. 

This was a mistake. 

A complete and utter mistake.  

‘What now?!’

“You really won’t see?” she asked hesitantly.  

Eren chuckled. “Nope. You don’t have to worry, I’ll keep my word,” he said, his voice steadier now, though his heart was excited. 

Mikasa forced herself to nod, “Okay,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. “Turn to face the lake,” She hesitated, fingers curling into the fabric of her clothes as she took a deep breath. 

This is ridiculous. 

This is dangerous . 

But despite every rational thought screaming at her to turn and leave, her feet betrayed her, stepping out from behind the tree.

Eren was facing away, his body relaxed, as he heard her soft footsteps approaching.

Mikasa gulps nervously as she approaches with the black fabric. Eren still stood with his back to her, shoulders stiff, hands clenched at his sides as if anchoring himself against the tide of emotions surging within. Mikasa kept approaching slowly, each step deliberate, quiet, like she feared the moment would shatter if she moved too fast. 

Her breath hitched softly, and she paused just a foot behind him. For a long second, she said nothing. 

The silence tightened around them.

Then, in barely more than a whisper, she spoke. “H-here…”

Eren tilted his head slightly, just enough to let her know he heard, but not enough to break his promise.

Wordlessly, she reached forward and held out the blindfold to him. Her fingers trembled—whether from nerves or something deeper, she didn’t know. 

He accepted it without a word.

With slow, deliberate movements, Eren raised the fabric. His eyes closed before the cloth even touched his face, as though sealing away the memory of her before she could change her mind. He tied it behind his head, the black fabric cutting out the light.

“It’s on,” he said, voice low. “I can’t see.”

Mikasa held her breath for a second and slowly walked around and stood in front of him. Even with the blindfold covering his eyes, there was something intense about the way his head turned at the sense of her presence, and faced her, as if he could see her anyway.

All while Eren’s own heartbeat hammered against his ribs. He clenched his fists at his sides, embarrassed by how loud it sounded in his own ears. ‘Could she hear it?’ He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to appear composed.

She inhaled deeply before speaking. “Do you…want to sit?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended.

Eren exhaled through his nose, nodding immediately— a little too quickly. “Yeah. Lead the way,” His usual composure felt completely shattered, and he couldn’t understand why this woman—this stranger —had such a hold on him.

Mikasa blinked, then bit back a small, amused smile. They were right there. The spot he’d been sitting at earlier was literally a couple of steps away. But… ever the gentleman, even blindfolded, he let her take the lead.

Shaking her head lightly, she turned, her steps slow and careful. “Let’s sit where you were earlier,” she said, guiding them toward the smooth stone by the lake’s edge.

Eren followed without hesitation, his senses on high alert. 

It made the experience even better .

Eren trailed behind her, blindfolded but strangely at ease. He had no idea where this night would lead, but for the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of hope—hope that this mysterious woman might just be worth every risk.

Each step was careful, deliberate, but he couldn’t help the flicker of nervousness coursing through him. His usual confidence was nowhere to be found. 

‘What if I trip?’

Mikasa glanced back over her shoulder, her heart hammering in her chest. The sight of him, so cautious and vulnerable, sent a wave of conflicting emotions through her. 

Eren followed her slowly, carefully, trying to commit every step to memory. He focused on the sound of her footsteps ahead, the way the ground felt beneath his boots. He knew the rock he’d been sitting on wasn’t far, but navigating blindfolded was far harder than he’d anticipated.  

Then, his foot caught onto something—maybe a stray root, maybe an uneven patch of dirt—he didn’t know. But the moment he stumbled, a panicked gasp left his lips, and instinct kicked in. His hands shot out blindly in front of him, bracing for the fall.  

But before he could hit the ground, strong yet gentle hands pressed against his chest, stopping him mid-fall.  

Mikasa had reacted without thinking because the second she heard his sharp intake of breath, she spun around, hands reaching out to steady him.  

Eren’s hands landed on her shoulders, gripping them tightly as he caught himself, his body tensing at the sudden contact. Mikasa, solid despite her small frame, barely budged from the impact.  

For a moment, they stayed like that.  

Too long.

His heart pounded as he felt her hands remain firmly against his chest, and he swore he could feel the warmth of her palms even through his shirt. His own fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her clothing, feeling the surprising strength beneath.  

He could feel her warmth near him, hear her breathing—fast and uneven, matching his own. His blindfolded gaze lowered as if he could see her through it, his heart pounding harder than it had during any battle.

Mikasa’s world tilted as she realized their proximity. 

Her breath caught, her face burning with embarrassment. 

Yet in her palms, she could feel the strength of his hard chest, the rapid rise and fall that mirrored her own.

The silence stretched, the only sounds were the distant chirping of insects and the gentle ripple of the lake.  

And then, as if realizing all at once what they were doing, they snatched their hands away.  

Eren stumbled back a step, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides, while Mikasa took a hurried step away, her fingers twitching.  

They both flushed deeply under the pale glow of the moon.  

“S-sorry,” Eren stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, still flustered. “And… uh, thanks. I didn’t mean to—”  

Mikasa shook her head rapidly, cutting him off. “No, it’s okay,” she assured him, her voice a little higher than usual. “You were going to fall. I just—” She swallowed, realizing how fast her heart was beating. “I just reacted.”  

Eren chuckled nervously, still feeling the lingering warmth on his chest. “Well… good reflexes, I guess.”  

Mikasa bit her lip, looking away for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”  

The air between them was thick with tension, an awkward silence stretching as both of them tried to gather their bearings. Mikasa clasped her hands together tightly, her knuckles white as she forced herself to look anywhere but at him.

“Um, we are here. The rock is on your right.”

The blindfolded man reached out hesitantly, his hand waving in the air until it landed on the rough surface of the boulder he had been sitting on. Grateful for something solid, he clung to it, his fingers digging into the rock.

“Here, right?” he asked, his voice quieter now, still tinged with nervousness.

“Yes,” Mikasa replied quickly, her voice shaky as she sat back on the boulder. She pulled her legs up to her chest, trying to make herself smaller.

Eren slowly sat down beside her, leaving a cautious gap between them. He adjusted the blindfold as if to reassure her he couldn’t see, though his heart still raced from their brief but intense closeness.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, the silence filled only by the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle lap of water against the shore. Both were too flustered to break the quiet, though their thoughts were anything but calm.

For Mikasa, the proximity had been overwhelming, and now she was more certain than ever that this meeting was a mistake. For Eren, however, the moment had only deepened his curiosity and longing to know more about the mysterious woman he could neither see nor fully understand.

The silence stretched between them, awkward but not entirely unwelcome. Mikasa sat with her arms around her knees, staring at the shimmering surface of the lake. Eren, blindfolded and sitting stiffly on the boulder beside her, fidgeted slightly. His hands rested awkwardly on his thighs as he tried to act casual, though the tension in his posture gave him away.

The blindfold made everything feel strange, though Eren couldn’t see her or gauge her expression, he could sense her presence—close enough that he could feel the faint warmth she radiated. 

Finally, the silence became too much. He cleared his throat to speak, but just as he opened his mouth, Mikasa spoke too.

“Eren—”

“So, how are you—”

They both stopped abruptly, their voices overlapping awkwardly. There was a brief moment of stunned silence before they both chuckled nervously.

“Sorry,” Mikasa mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eren scratched the back of his head, feeling his face heat up beneath the blindfold. “No, no, you go first.”

Mikasa hesitated, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Mikasa didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the ground. The awkwardness between them lingered, but it felt a little lighter now.

“So... what were you going to say?” Eren prompted gently, his tone curious.

Mikasa hesitated again, trying to collect her thoughts. But now that she had the chance to speak, the words seemed to slip away from her. She shook her head slightly. “It’s nothing,” she said finally, her voice low.

Eren tilted his head, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press her. Instead, he leaned back slightly, letting out a slow breath. “Alright,” he said, his tone light. “Then I guess I’ll ask again—how are you?”

Mikasa glanced at him, her lips twitching in a faint smile. “I’m fine,” she said simply, though the weight of her thoughts made the words feel like a lie.

“And your day?”

“It was good.”

“And how is the business going?”

“Good too.”

Eren nodded, leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, an amused smile on his face. “You don’t have much to say, do you?” he said as he turned his head toward the sound of her voice. Mikasa blushes and looks away at his intense gaze, yet obscured. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk, but the fact is that she can’t afford to talk too much. “But I just... I don’t mind sitting here. Even when you just give short answers.”

He chuckled, and Mikasa looked at him, her chest fluttering at the sound of his easy laugh. She turned her gaze back to the lake, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little.

“Alright,” she murmured.

And so they sat there, side by side, the awkwardness still present but softened by an unspoken understanding. Neither of them spoke for a long time, but in the stillness of the night, it almost felt like they didn’t need to.

The quiet stretched between them, but Mikasa’s mind churned with questions she couldn’t suppress any longer. She glanced at him, sitting there with the blindfold on, the faint moonlight catching the edges of his profile. Something about the way he sat—so poised and yet so vulnerable—made her chest tighten.

She bit her lip, hesitating before speaking, “Eren?”

He turned his head toward her at the sound of his name. “Yeah?”

She hesitated again, the words feeling heavy on her tongue. But she forced them out. “Why... why are you interested in spending time with me?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and Mikasa’s heart raced as she waited for his response. Eren’s breath hitched slightly, and she noticed the way his shoulders tensed.

“I...” he began, his voice faltering. He scratched the back of his neck nervously, his blush evident even in the dim light. “I don’t really know how to say this without sounding... stupid.”

Mikasa tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued despite herself. “Just say it,” she murmured, her voice softer than she intended.

Eren took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “That night,” he began, his tone more serious now, “when I saw you by the lake...there was something about you. Something I couldn’t stop thinking about.”

Mikasa’s breath caught in her throat, and she turned her gaze away, thankful he couldn’t see the blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You were... enchanting,” Eren admitted, his voice quieter now. “I don’t even know why, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that. It’s like...you were something out of a dream.”

Mikasa’s heart raced at his confession, her mind struggling to process his words. Enchanting ? How could he think that about her? She wasn’t anything special—not a noblewoman, not a general’s daughter, not even someone with a remarkable title. 

She was just... her .

She turned her head further away, as if to shield her expression from him, even though the blindfold made it unnecessary. “That’s... hard to believe,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Eren tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing beneath the blindfold. “You were to me.”

Mikasa snorts at that. 

She instantly thinks about Ms. Hannah upon her snorting. “ Not ladylike! ” Ms. Hannah would say—especially being in front of a man, from the military, and said man being a Captain. She would have a heart attack from just hearing Mikasa do such a thing.

She didn’t reply to him, to argue she wasn’t all that, because she learned arguing with him is a never-ending thing. 

So they stay quiet, and they are awkward, hearts racing—both for different reasons.  

Eren was still reeling from the encounter, his mind clouded with the sensation of her touch, the softness of her voice, the odd magnetism he felt toward a woman he hadn’t even seen— literally . 

Mikasa, on the other hand, was trying to keep her cover intact while suppressing the growing realization that spending time with him like this—intimately, secretly—was both exhilarating and dangerous. 

Mikasa shifted slightly, she could feel his presence so keenly, the way he seemed to be ‘looking’ at her despite the blindfold. She takes a breath and steers the conversation to him. “What about you?” she asked. “What is it that you do? I am guessing you are a soldier? Must be interesting,” she feigned not knowing. 

Eren chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “ Interesting isn’t the word I’d use. I am a soldier,” he said, stretching his legs out. “Well, technically , I’m not really a soldier.”  

Mikasa smirked internally, ‘Oh, I know.’

Eren continued, “I mean, I am in the military.” 

Mikasa tilted her head, acting clueless even though he couldn’t see her. “So, what are you?”  

Eren sighed. “I’m a Captain.”  

Mikasa schooled her expression, feigning mild surprise. “Oh,” she said, as if she hadn’t already known.  

He chuckled, expecting her to be impressed or at least a little awed—most people were when they found out. Instead, he heard nothing from her. 

And that…was new.  

Eren shifted slightly, smirking at her way. “You don’t sound impressed.”  

Mikasa looked at him for a second and tilted her head. “Would you like me to be?”  

That made him laugh. “No,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Actually, it’s refreshing.”  

(But the real reason she wasn’t impressed was that she already knew, but he took it differently, and she would go along with to not raise suspicion.)

But what genuinely got Mikasa was that he sounded nonchalant about him being a Captain. She stared at him for a moment, noticing how his usual confidence seemed to wane slightly as he spoke about his title. 

There was no smugness, no arrogance—only something subdued, something almost… tired.  

“Why don’t you sound excited about it?” she asked softly. “Most would think it’s an amazing thing—I think it’s amazing.”  

Eren hummed and leaned back to rest his weight on his palms, legs still stretched out. “It is an honor,” he admitted. “And I do love it. But it’s a lot. The men under my command—whatever happens to them is a reflection of me. I have to lead them in a way that ensures they won’t perish before their time.”  

Mikasa’s chest tightened at the raw honesty in his voice.  

She had expected some cocky response about how he was the best, how his leadership was unmatched. But instead, she found a man carrying the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, a man who feared failure not for himself, but for those who followed him.  

She suddenly wanted to reach out—to take his hand, to tell him that he wouldn’t fail, that he was stronger than he gave himself credit for.  

Mikasa looked away, eyes on her feet, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “It sounds exhausting.”

“ Yes ,” Eren admitted with a laugh. “Rewarding, sometimes, but mostly exhausting. There’s a lot of pressure. A lot of responsibility, and sometimes it feels like no matter what you do, it’s never enough.”

Mikasa nodded, her expression softening as she listened. Though she already knew the grueling reality of military life, hearing it from his perspective felt different. She smiled softly at the sight of her Captain, though looking silly blindfolded, looking carefree and comfortable sitting on the rock like that. 

“But,” Eren continued, his voice thoughtful now, “it’s worth it. Knowing I can protect people, make a difference—it’s worth all the sleepless nights.”

Mikasa’s chest tightened at his words, and for a moment, she forgot about the blindfold, about the lie she was living. She simply sat there, listening to the earnestness in his voice, and wondered how someone like him could see anything special in someone like her .  

She was no one , from bum fuck nowhere, ‘ an unpleasant woman ’ as the people of her town would murmur. 

The tension and awkwardness between them slowly melted as they talked, the conversations flowing more naturally than either of them expected. Mikasa found herself laughing softly at one of Eren’s self-deprecating stories about a time he’d gotten lost during a training exercise as a cadet, and his friends had to search for him in a downpour.

“ You , lost? I don’t believe it,” Mikasa teased, a smile tugging at her lips.

Eren chuckled, his grin wide. “It’s true! I thought I was following the map perfectly, but it turns out I was holding it upside down the entire time .”

Mikasa’s soft laughter filled the air again, and Eren’s chest tightened at the sound. He had never heard anything so gentle, so pure, and he found himself wishing he could bottle it up to hear it again whenever the weight of the war became too much or in his last moments.

“But don’t tell anyone,” he added, his tone mock-serious. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Mikasa replied, still smiling. “Your secret is safe with me, Captain.”

Eren smiled brightly in her direction as Mikasa looked at him with mirth. 

The conversation drifted to lighter topics—the stars, the beauty of the lake at night, and even the small joys they missed from child life. Mikasa, against her better judgment, began to feel at ease. It was as if they had known each other for years, like childhood friends reuniting after a long separation.

But deep down, she knew this was wrong. 

She shouldn’t feel this way— not about the Captain, not about someone who was her superior. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Mikasa felt like someone truly saw her, even with all her secrets hidden.

Eren, on the other hand, was trying his best to focus on their conversation, but his heart refused to settle. Every laugh, every soft word that escaped her lips made his pulse race, and he felt as though he was teetering on the edge of something he didn’t fully understand.

He cleared his throat, trying to ground himself. “You know,” he began hesitantly, “I... I hope we can keep meeting like this.”

Mikasa’s breath hitched, and she turned her gaze toward him. She knew she shouldn’t ask, but curiosity got the better of her. “Oh?”

Eren hesitated for a moment, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “Because... I don’t know. Talking to you... it’s different. It feels... I don’t know how to describe it. Comfortable, I guess.”

Mikasa’s chest tightened at his words, and she quickly looked away. “I... I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Eren asked softly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability she wasn’t prepared for.

She didn’t answer, her mind too tangled with conflicting lies.

Eren, sensing her hesitation, pressed on gently. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the day after that. I don’t even know if I’ll make it through this war. But... if I do, I’d like to keep meeting you. Talking to you. Even if it’s just once in a while.”

Mikasa’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. 

He was being so honest, so open, and she didn’t know how to respond. The weight of her own secrets loomed over her, but for a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it might be like to truly be his friend.

“Maybe,” she murmured softly, barely above a whisper.

Eren’s lips curved into a small triumphant smile. 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to ignite a fragile hope within him. For now, that hope was all he needed to keep going.

The night had grown late, and the once-bright stars began to fade into the darkness of an impending dawn, the cool night air grew colder, and an unspoken understanding settled between them. 

It was time to say goodbye.

Eren could feel the moment creeping closer, and it filled him with an inexplicable panic. He wasn’t ready to let her go, not yet, not when tonight had been the most fulfilling and peaceful night he’d experienced in years. His mind raced for a reason— any reason—to keep her close, even if just for one more night.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up, his voice more eager than he intended, “Mikasa.”

Mikasa paused, looking toward him even though he couldn’t see her. “What is it?”

Eren fumbled for words, feeling an uncharacteristic nervousness. “Would... would you meet me here again tomorrow night?”

Mikasa blinked, her surprise evident in her tone. “Again?”

“Yeah.” He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, same time, same place. I’ll even bring the blindfold with me—I swear I’ll have it on before you get here.”

The unexpected promise caught Mikasa off guard, and she couldn’t help but panic. She’d been certain he’d want to meet her again, but she didn’t expect him to go so far as to accommodate her unusual condition.

“I... don’t know,” she replied hesitantly.

“Please,” Eren added quickly, almost pleading. “I really enjoyed tonight. Talking with you—it was it was nice. Better than nice, actually.”

Mikasa bit her lip, feeling a strange warmth at his words. 

She knew it was risky, but she also couldn’t deny how pleasant his company had been. It didn’t hurt to have a friend, right? And with the blindfold, there was no way he’d figure out her identity.

She sighed softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Alright. Same time tomorrow.”

Eren’s face broke into a grin so wide and goofy that it made Mikasa laugh, her own voice lighter than it had been all night.

“Really?” he asked, his voice brimming with excitement.

“Really,” she confirmed, shaking her head at his enthusiasm even though he couldn’t see it.

“ Great ! I’ll be here,” he said, his tone almost childlike in its delight.

Mikasa stood then, brushing off her clothes, started to walk away. “Okay then. Goodnight, Eren.”

“Goodnight, Mikasa ,” he replied, his grin still plastered on his face as he sat there, listening to her footsteps retreat into the trees.

Eren waited, counting the seconds until he was sure she was far enough away. Only then did he reach up to remove the blindfold, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the moon. He stared out at the water for a moment, then broke into a huge, dopey smile, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

Chapter Text

Mikasa’s breath came steady and controlled as she pushed herself forward, her strides strong, her body light despite the exhaustion in her limbs. She had trained tirelessly for weeks, and today, her hard work was paying off.  

As she neared the finish line of the morning jog, she realized—she was in the lead.  

Reiner was right behind her, his heavy steps pounding the dirt, his breathing ragged but determined. Bertholdt trailed just behind him, his long legs covering ground quickly, but not fast enough to beat her or Reiner.  

With one final burst of speed, Mikasa crossed the finish line first.  

She bent over slightly, hands on her knees, as she panted, sweat dripping from her forehead. Reiner crossed just seconds after, letting out a grunt as he stopped next to her, hands on his waist. “Damn, Miko,” he wheezed, giving her an approving smirk. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”  

Bertholdt reached them next, placing his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath. “You’ve gotten faster,” he admitted, glancing at her with mild surprise.  

Mikasa wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and straightened up, glancing toward the three First Lieutenants standing nearby.  

Armin, Jean, and Connie observed the cadets carefully, analyzing their progress. For the first time, they had announced this morning that they would be taking over the morning drills permanently—an effort to build the soldiers' strength and endurance before their real training with Captain Jaeger.  

She met Armin’s sharp gaze, expecting nothing more than a glance, but instead, he nodded at her.  

A proud nod.  

Jean crossed his arms, giving her a smirk and a small tilt of his head, as if acknowledging her efforts.  

Even Connie, the most laid-back of the Lieutenants, raised his brow in approval before looking back at the rest of the finishing cadets.  

Mikasa’s chest swelled with an unfamiliar feeling. 

Pride.  

She had come a long way, wasn’t at the back of the group any more or being looked down on for being weak, for being unworthy of the name Ackerman.  

She was no longer the one trailing behind, struggling to prove herself, s he was excelling and growing stronger.  

And most importantly—she was finally being recognized, not as a disgrace to the Ackerman name… but as a true soldier.

Mikasa, Reiner, and Bertholdt were still trying to catch their breath when First Lieutenant Arlert suddenly spoke, his sharp voice cutting through the heavy morning air.  

“You three—go eat breakfast and immediately report to the command tent.”  

Mikasa blinked, unsure if she had heard correctly.  

Reiner’s head tilted slightly, his broad shoulders tensing. “Uh… the command tent , sir?” repeating, just in case he didn’t hear right. 

Bertholdt’s brows furrowed, his face reflecting the same confusion Mikasa felt.  

The command tent was strictly for high-ranking officers, only visited by cadets when they were in serious trouble.

They barely had time to process the order before Lieutenant Springer scoffed and snapped at them, “Did you hear your Lieutenant, or do I need to spell it out for you? Move your asses!”  

Mikasa, Reiner, and Bertholdt instantly straightened and saluted.  

“Yes, sir!” they shouted in unison before turning on their heels and bolting toward the kitchen tent.  

Their minds were racing.  

What did the higher-ups want with them?  

Mikasa’s heart pounded for an entirely different reason now, uncertainty creeping into her thoughts.  

Did they find out about her ?  

Oh gods NO —

Reiner ran a hand through his damp blond hair as they weaved through groups of cadets. “What the hell do they want from us?”  

Bertholdt shook his head, his long strides keeping pace with them. “I have no idea. Do you think it’s about our performance?”  

Mikasa stayed quiet, her thoughts storming inside her head.  

Whatever it was… they were about to find out.

The trio made their way quickly through the camp after their breakfast, the weight of the order hanging heavily over their heads. As they neared the command tent, Mikasa’s stomach churned with nerves. She couldn’t help but feel like they were being summoned for something… something that might not be good.  

The guard standing at the entrance of the tent looked up just as they approached. His narrowed eyes assessed them briefly, making Mikasa feel uneasy.  

“What do you want?” the guard asked, his voice flat and uninterested. “You should be eating, not here.”  

Reiner shifted uncomfortably and gave the guard a quick salute. “First Lieutenant Arlert ordered us to come here, sir.”  

The guard eyed them for a moment longer before he nodded, his expression neutral. “ Hmph , fine. Go on in.”  

They nodded and quickly passed through the entrance, their steps echoing in the otherwise quiet tent. Mikasa’s heart raced in her chest, her hands slightly clammy. Why were they called here? What did Captain Jaeger want with them?  

Inside the command tent, the air was heavy with tension. Maps and scrolls were sprawled out over a long table, a stark contrast to the quiet that filled the space. The Captain, standing behind the table, was hunched over the maps, his intense gaze scanning them. As soon as the trio stepped inside, he looked up, sensing their presence.  

The three of them snapped to attention, instinctively lining up.  

“Captain,” they greeted in unison, voices respectful but laced with nervousness.  

The Captain gave a small nod, acknowledging their presence. “At ease,” he said with a wave of his hand.  

They relaxed slightly, but the anxiety in the air was almost tangible as he stood up, walking over to the table and grabbing a scroll that had been resting there.  

The silence that followed felt like it lasted a lifetime while Mikasa’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of what was going on. Her hands were shaking slightly as she tried to keep her posture straight, but the weight of the situation was making it harder and harder to concentrate.  

Captain Jaeger took a few more steps toward them, the scroll in his hand, his sharp eyes never leaving them. Mikasa, Reiner, and Bertholdt instinctively gulped, their anxiety rising.  

"Have you all been doing well in your training?" he asked, his voice calm, but there was an edge to it that made Mikasa’s stomach twist even further.  

“Yes, sir,” They all said and nodded.

He didn't immediately continue. 

Instead, he studied them for a moment, as if weighing something in his mind.  

“We’ve seen your progress,” the Captain said finally, his tone surprisingly neutral. “And we know you’ve been through quite a bit. The three of you have stood out during the training exercises, especially considering how much you’ve had to learn and adapt in such a short time. I respect that.”  

Mikasa’s heart fluttered at the compliment, which was rare coming from their Captain. 

Captain Jaeger continued. “But,” he added, his voice hardening just slightly, “there are still things that need to be done. Things that I cannot let slide.”  

The tension in the air thickened, and Mikasa exchanged a quick look with Reiner and Bertholdt. She could feel her throat tightening as the anticipation grew.  

The Captain paused in front of them, letting the moment linger just a bit longer. Finally, he spoke again, his tone much more serious.  

“You’ve earned my respect, but now we need to know if you have what it takes to survive in the real world. To fight for your lives. There will be no more hand-holding. You’ll be tested, and it will be hard. The next phase begins soon.”  

The cadets’ breath caught in their throats, but they nodded in acknowledgment. It was what they expected, but now it felt so much more real. This was no longer about proving themselves in training. This was about the fight ahead.  

“And one more thing,” Captain Jaeger added, his voice softer but still commanding. “You’re not here just for yourself. You’re here for the people we protect. For the Empire, and for the people you care about.” 

Mikasa straightened, feeling something stir in her chest. The words hit her harder than she expected, and for a moment, she wondered if it was because they felt personal.  

The commanding officer’s eyes lingered on each of them for a long moment. The atmosphere in the command tent shifted slightly as Captain Jaeger sighed heavily, a look of both pride and weariness crossing his face. The three cadets stood in front of him, still uncertain as to what was coming next, their nerves momentarily forgotten as they watched the Captain carefully unroll the scroll in his hands.

Jaeger's voice was quiet as he spoke, his tone carrying a sense of sincerity that was rare for someone in his position. "I’ve seen your progress, and I think it’s time you all knew what that means," he began, his eyes meeting theirs with a rare level of warmth. "First of all, thank you for your hard work. You’ve pushed yourselves further than most would ever dream. It hasn’t gone unnoticed."

The words left the trio speechless. 

Mikasa’s heart skipped a beat. 

Was he actually thanking them? 

"And congratulations ," he continued, confirming what the trio were questioning. The Captain’s voice was softer now, "for finishing in the top three in the 104th Training Corps from the southern division."

The words felt surreal. 

Mikasa blinked in disbelief at their Captain while Reiner and Bertholdt exchanged quick glances, both clearly shocked. 

They hadn’t expected recognition like this, certainly not from Captain Jaeger himself . 

His words were like a dream.

Their Captain chuckled softly at their expressions, enjoying the rare opportunity to be the one giving praise instead of receiving it. He then looked down at the scroll, scanning it with a quiet intensity before looking back up at them.

"Let’s start with number three ," he said, his voice now back to its usual crispness. "Impressive achievements with weapons. You came close to breaking General Jaeger’s record, which is no small feat." He paused, his expression turning almost reflective. "I was honestly surprised to see that his record was in danger of being surpassed. You’ve certainly earned my respect."

The trio widened their eyes at this. 

Eren gave a small nod, his gaze flicking to them, before continuing with a quiet pride. " Bertholdt Hoover’s stats speak for themselves. Excellent reflexes, almost unparalleled in terms of weaponry skills. Keep this up, and you’ll go far."

The words hung in the air as Bertholdt looked at the Captain with wide eyes, as Reiner huffed a laugh and looked at his friend with pride, and Mikasa’s chest swelled with pride too. They looked at him with a huge smile on their faces while Bertholdt was in total shock, yet he managed to bow and thank their Captain, who chuckled. 

Captain Jaeger moved to the next section of the scroll and cleared his throat before reading aloud with a smirk. " Number two ..." He paused, as though savoring the build-up. "Excels in hand-to-hand combat. In fact , the First Lieutenants thought they were seeing Major Erwin Smith from the East Province when they saw this cadet in action."  

The cadets’ eyes widened at that, at the mention of Major Erwin Smith, one of the most revered military leaders in the country, despite him still being young. Being mistaken by Major Smith was both a compliment and a challenge. 

"Number two has shown that they have the strength and agility to hold their own against the best," Jaeger continued. "And I’m sure we’ll see even greater things in the future." The Captain’s eyes glinted with approval as he finished reading, his tone unmistakably impressed. "You’ve truly earned your place here, Reiner Braun .

Reiner couldn’t hide his grin, even if it was slightly bashful. The recognition felt incredibly satisfying, but he knew it wasn’t time to rest on his laurels. He thanked the Captain with a bow.

Mikasa smiled proudly at her blond friend as Bertholdt chuckled. But suddenly, she felt her breath leave her lungs as she realized something, and it was like her friends did too—they looked at her with wide eyes.

"And then," Captain Jaeger smirked and looked directly at Mikasa, "we come to number one ."

SHE is number one?!

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Shocked at this, she really thought she was going to be in the top three , never thinking she would be finishing in the number one spot when she stepped into the camp all those weeks ago. 

Jaeger’s expression turned more serious, almost contemplative, as he looked down at the scroll, preparing to speak. His voice, when it came, was far softer, filled with a sense of finality.

"Number one’s stats are..." Jaeger’s gaze flickered between them, a moment of hesitation before he spoke again. " Extraordinary . You’ve set the bar for the rest of the cadets in ways that can’t be ignored. Your skills are unparalleled, and your accomplishments are unmatched in every area of training."

Mikasa’s heart thudded loudly in her chest. Her mind raced as she realized he was actually talking about her . She stood still, her breath caught in her throat, as her pride swelled with every word that came out of the Captain’s mouth.

"You’ve completed each task with precision and determination," Jaeger continued. "Your weapon skills, your endurance, and your physical prowess—there’s nothing you haven’t excelled at–rising from the ground up to achieve the top spot has been nothing short of extraordinary.”

He looked directly at Mikasa as he spoke those words, and her cheeks warmed slightly. She couldn’t hide the small smile that crept onto her face, though she remained silent, grateful for the praise but determined.

Jaeger paused, allowing the gravity of his words to settle in.

Mikasa felt a knot tighten in her chest, the pressure to live up to his words felt overwhelming, but there was no way she would falter now—but she was ready for whatever came next.

The room seemed to fade away as he went on. "Not only did you break records in multiple categories, including weapon proficiency and physical endurance. Not only have you surpassed many of your peers, but you have set a new standard—one that will be remembered long after this training is over. Miko Ackerman , you came close to the legendary Ackermans— Levi Ackerman and Kenny Ackerman ."

Mikasa's breath caught, and she felt the room closing in around her as the weight of the words hit her. She hadn’t realized how far she’d come. She’d always pushed herself for Levi, for the people she loved, and just to survive—but this ? She never thought she would be named in the same breath as her brother’s and father’s legacy in the Army, one of the most feared and respected soldiers in history. 

It was overwhelming. 

Tears stung her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. She hadn’t done it for the praise, but hearing it still left her speechless. She’d never expected this much recognition, and yet, here it was, from the very Captain she had received critiques and harsh words from—he even doubted her at the beginning. 

Captain Jaeger sighed and rolled up the scroll, and took a step forward. His voice softened for a moment as he addressed Mikasa directly. "I want to apologize for being harsh on you in the beginning," he said, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of respect that was taken highly for someone in his position.

The entire room went silent. 

The cadets, who had been anticipating the Captain’s usual stern demeanor, were now completely taken aback by this unexpected display of humility. Mikasa’s breath caught in her throat, unsure of how to respond.

"You’ve proven yourself," the Captain continued, his eyes fixed on her, "not just as an Ackerman, but as someone who belongs here. You’ve silenced all doubts and shown us all what it truly means to push past our limits."

The words, simple as they were, carried so much weight. Mikasa felt a lump form in her throat, unsure whether to speak or stay silent. The shock from her fellow cadets was palpable—no one had expected such a personal moment from their Captain. And no one, especially Mikasa, had expected the respect her Captain had shown her.

The room was still, except for the faint sound of the camp outside the tent as the cadets processed the Captain's words. They had all heard stories of the Ackermans, of Levi and Kenny. But now, here was Mikasa— Miko —the girl who had stood her ground against all odds, earning the right to carry the name with pride.

"You’ve earned your place here," Captain Jaeger finished, his voice carrying a sense of finality. "I’ll no longer doubt you. But that doesn’t mean you stop there, keep pushing forward—all of you all too."

Mikasa swallowed hard, her chest tightening as she tried to hold back the emotions swelling inside her. She bowed low, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Captain."

For a moment, no one spoke. 

The words of praise, the Captain’s apology, and the weight of her achievements seemed to hang in the air, leaving Mikasa unsure of what to do next. The recognition was overwhelming, but it felt like a new chapter, one where she could finally stand proud, knowing she had earned the respect of her fellow soldiers and her Captain.

As Eren stepped back, he glanced at his soldiers, a silent communication passing between them before he gave a small nod. "That’s all for now," he said, turning away as the room slowly returned to its usual atmosphere.

Mikasa stood tall, her heart swelling with pride, knowing that she had finally proven herself—not just to her fellow cadets, but to herself as well.

As the Captain finished speaking, the room was still, the weight of his words lingering in the air. Mikasa felt a mix of emotions swirling inside her, but for the moment, all she could think about was the recognition she had received. Her heart was still racing as she stood there, unable to fully process what had just happened. But the sound of the Captain’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Alright, you’re dismissed,” he said, his tone firm, as usual. Reiner and Bertholdt immediately saluted and turned to leave the tent, eager to get back to their duties after that recognition. Mikasa mirrored their actions, saluting the Captain, but as she began to turn away, something caught her eye.

It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable, but there it was—a flash of red at the Captain’s wrist.

Mikasa’s heart skipped a beat as she looked more closely. The sight of the red ribbon , tied neatly around his wrist, made her freeze. Her mind raced as she tried to process what she was seeing. 

That red ribbon... 

It’s hers .

She had worn that very ribbon countless times during drills to tie her short hair back into a small ponytail, the way it kept the stray locks from falling into her face as she trained. She had thought it lost at the lake, and yet, here it was, adorning the wrist of Captain Jaeger.

Did he know it was hers—well, Mikasa’s ?

The thoughts raced, as well as her heart in her chest, through her mind faster than she could stop them—her body froze in place, unable to tear her gaze away from the ribbon.

As she stood there, lost in her own thoughts, Captain Jaeger started to walk back toward the table after dismissing them, not noticing her standing there. He was engrossed in something on the table already, and Mikasa's gaze remained glued to the ribbon.

But then, just as she started to process what she had seen, she heard the Captain’s voice, tinged with confusion.

“Did I not dismiss you, Miko?” he asked, frowning as he turned back to look at her.

Mikasa looks at him with wide eyes, startled, her heart leaping into her throat. She quickly snapped her body to attention and bowed in apology, her voice trembling slightly. “I-I’m sorry, Captain!” she stammered, her voice flustered. “I—uh—didn’t mean to linger. I’ll go now.”

Eren raised an eyebrow, still looking at her with slight confusion. “Alright then. Get to it,” he said, his voice returning to its usual firmness, though there was a hint of curiosity in his gaze. 

Mikasa nodded quickly, her heart racing as she hurriedly saulted him and stepped toward the exit. She could feel the Captain’s eyes on her back as she rushed out of the tent, desperately trying to calm herself.

As Miko left, Captain Jaeger stood there, frowning in confusion, but soon brushed it off. He turned back to the table, his mind already focused on the next task at hand. 

Meanwhile, as Mikasa stepped out of the tent, she couldn’t shake the strange feeling building in her chest. 

Why had he been wearing her ribbon? 

Was he planning to give it back if they saw each other again?

Her mind was a whirl of questions, but for now, she forced herself to push them aside. She had more important things to focus on, but the memory of that red ribbon and the way it had made her heart race, lingered in her thoughts as she walked away.

Mikasa, Reiner, and Bertholdt made their way back to the kitchen area, their steps were light, their faces alight with the kind of pride that only came from such hard-earned recognition. They couldn't help but smile at the unexpected turn of events. 

“I still can’t believe it,” Reiner said, grinning widely as he patted Mikasa on the back, making her cringe at the brute strength, but she was used to it. “And not to forget that you beat me! I’m not gonna hear the end of it, am I?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her own grin. "You were close. You can still say you're almost as good as me, right?" Mikasa teased, making Reiner roll his eyes without heat. 

Bertholdt chuckled softly, his voice calm as usual but with a hint of amusement. "I thought for sure I’d be at the bottom. Didn’t think I’d be in the top three at all."

Mikasa laughed. “Honestly, same. But I guess hard work really does pay off.” Her voice carried a hint of disbelief, as though she herself still couldn’t fully accept the fact that she had finished first.

“First, second, and third. We did it!” Reiner cheered again, pumping his fist in the air. But just as Mikasa was about to respond, he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her into a headlock. “The Captain was impressed with you, Miko!” Reiner said, ruffling her hair and laughing triumphantly. “Guess you’ll have to show me how it’s done from now on!”

Mikasa, with a growl of frustration, immediately started trying to pry his arms off her, pushing against his chest. “ Reiner ! Damn it!”

Bertholdt couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. “You two are always bickering.”

“His fault,” Mikasa muttered darkly, finally managing to break free from Reiner's grasp. She straightened her clothes, tying her hair back in the neat, tiny ponytail that it was before Reiner messed it up. 

Reiner, laughing, held up his hands in mock surrender. “Woah, I’m scared, first place ,” he teased, but there was no malice in his voice—only a deep respect for the ‘guy’ who had earned that top spot.

Mikasa squinted her eyes at him, yet a small smile formed on her lips. 

The sun was high in the sky, casting a harsh light on the dirt and grass beneath their feet. Mikasa, Reiner, Bertholdt, and the rest of the recruits lined up under Captain Jaeger’s watchful eyes. The air was thick with tension as the Captain stood at the front, arms crossed, eyes scanning the troops. 

His presence was imposing, his silent gaze weighing down on each cadet. 

Mikasa felt her heart race, the air in her lungs heavy with anticipation becasue this wasn’t just another drill. 

This wasn’t any of the First Lieutenant’s intense but manageable training. 

This was Captain Jaeger’s training. 

The man who was known for pushing his soldiers to their absolute limits. 

The man who cared about results, not excuses.

“Form up! No slacking today!” Captain Jaeger barked, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. His First and Second Lieutenants were already moving between the recruits, yelling out to stand taller , ensuring that no one got away with anything.

Mikasa stood at attention, her muscles tense, hands clenched at her back. She could feel Reiner’s presence next to her, and Bertholdt slightly behind, both men just as focused. The fire inside her, the drive to prove herself, burned brightly. 

“First,” Captain Jaeger announced, his voice booming. “We’ll start with drills. Speed and precision, cadets! I want to see you move like your life depends on it—because it does!”

After a few more orders, the soldiers immediately began sprinting, executing drills with swift, precise movements. Mikasa pushed herself forward, legs aching as her body protested the rapid pace. Her breath came in sharp bursts, but she ignored it, focusing on her form, her posture. Each step, each movement, was a calculated push forward. She could hear the other recruits behind her, but she wasn’t about to let them pass her.

Captain Jaeger’s voice rang out again after they were done, commanding them to switch tactics. “Now, pair up! I want you to spar. Show me that you know how to fight and think on your feet. No holding back!”

Mikasa immediately found herself paired with one of the larger recruits, a soldier she had never sparred with before. He was tall, and she could see the smug look in his eyes upon seeing her lean and smaller stature. He thought he would easily overpower her, but Mikasa smirked—he is surely underestimating her.

She finished number one damn it and she will show him. 

Mikasa dodged his first heavy swing, her reflexes honed from months of grueling training. She countered, landing a quick jab to his ribs, but he grunted and retaliated with a forceful push that knocked her back a few paces. 

Her focus sharpened and her mind cleared, she moved faster, anticipating his movements before he even made them. Her hands, though still not as strong as Reiner's and some of the other recruits, were skilled. She struck with precision, using her agility to her advantage, sidestepping all his attacks and striking again.

“Good, Miko!” Lieutenant Arlert’s voice called out, and Mikasa barely suppressed a smile. She knew she was being kept an eye on, since she did finish number one, and they expected her to be good. 

The larger recruit swung again, trying to catch her off guard. But Mikasa ducked and twisted, grabbing his arm to use his momentum against him, and swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. 

The moment she landed a final strike to his chest, the Captain barked, “Enough! Now we are splitting into two teams!”

Mikasa didn’t have time to celebrate, she immediately found herself in another fight, now given a wooden sword as the Lieutenants quickly divided the cadets into two teams.

“Go!”

The cadets shouted as they charged into the simulated battle.

The fights were relentless, the tension in the air thick as the Lieutenants were among the men, shouting at those who had ‘died’ and telling them to move to the side. 

Every strike from the opponents was a reminder that this was real. This was a test of skill, of endurance, of willpower. She could feel the sweat dripping down her back, but she didn’t stop. 

She couldn’t.

Her hands were raw from gripping the sword, and her legs burned with exhaustion, but she pushed through—’slashing’ the opposite team. The soldiers around her were just as tired, but they didn’t stop either. 

No one did. 

Not when Captain Jaeger was watching. 

His piercing eyes were on them, analyzing every move, every second of weakness.

And it didn’t help that his Lieutenants were his extra eyes. 

When the mock battle ended, Mikasa dropped to one knee, breathless but proud. The team she was on, five men left, had won. Reiner dropped his body to sit on the ground, breathless and sweaty. Bertholdt was lying, out of breath also, on the ground, sprawled like a starfish. 

Mikasa huffs a smile as she looks at her friends. She then glances at the Captain and his second-in-command people, talking to each other, murmuring probably about the cadets’ performance during the mock battle. 

She felt proud, she had proven that she could handle herself. She wasn’t just some rookie anymore. 

She is an Ackerman .

“Give us a moment! And it looks like you guys need a moment too!” Lieutenant Arlert ordered, chuckles broke between him, the rest of the First Lieutenants, and the Second Lieutenants before forming a circle around the Captain. 

Captain Jaeger, arms crossed, nodding and listening to his Lieutenants, who stood around him, murmuring about the cadets' skills, who did good and who needs to work on this or that. 

Then he locked gaze with her, and he smirked. 

Mikasa tensed at this.

Captain Jaeger looked back at his crew and talked to them as the rest of the cadets began to recover from the intense training. Mikasa cleared her throat and felt a small blush, then she stood up, wiping the sweat from her brow, and walked toward Reiner. 

Walking through a sea of her fellow soldiers, some on the ground still, some standing up slowly, she stood in front of Reiner with a teasing smile. 

Reiner flips her off, and she swats his hand away before offering him her hand. “Thanks, man. Jeez! That was tough—people were coming from all directions at me!” 

Mikasa chuckles breathlessly and pats his sweaty shoulder. “Tell me about it. I think one of them even bit me,” she said as she checked her shoulder, which was red, but it didn’t look like a bite. 

The tall blond laughed as Bertholdt came over with a limping Marco. 

And when she looked back at Captain Jaeger, she saw something in his eyes that made her believe that, despite his harshness, he saw it too. 

He saw her potential. 

And she was ready to prove it to him, again and again.

The last drill of the day was hand-to-hand combat, and the tension in the air was palpable. Mikasa, sore and drenched in sweat, stood among her fellow cadets, every muscle in her body screaming for relief. She had pushed herself to the limit today, but there was no slowing down, not with Captain Jaeger watching every move. His sharp eyes missed nothing, and every cadet knew better than to slack off under his gaze. 

Even though they were all exhausted, the Captain didn’t show an ounce of mercy.

As the cadets gathered in their formation, the First Lieutenants’ assistants began to call out the pairs for the final drill. 

Each name came with a different wave of shock and anticipation.

"Fourth-ranked within the 104th Training Corps from the southern division, Marco Bodt , paired with First Lieutenant Springer ," an assistant called.

A collective gasp rippled through the group. Marco stood frozen for a moment, wide-eyed with surprise. First, because he was announced to finish fourth among the cadets, and then because he was going up against Lieutenant Springer, known for his brutal and unforgiving style.

Marco gulped but nodded, his face turning a shade paler, stepping in the middle. The Lieutenant grinned mischievously, stretching his arms as he walked towards the nervous cadet. "Don't worry, man! It'll be fun," he said, his voice low and teasing.

Next, another assistant called out, "Third-ranked, Bertholdt Hoover , paired with First Lieutenant Kirstein !"

Bertholdt looked as though his knees were about to buckle at the thought of facing one of the hardest Lieutenants in combat. He stood there, trembling slightly, but somehow mustered the courage to step forward as Lieutenant Kirstein walked toward him with a smug expression. The cadets couldn't help but chuckle nervously. Bertholdt wasn’t the type to back down, but this pairing had him on edge, he thought they were going to be paired up with a fellow soldier. 

"Second-ranked, Reiner Braun , paired with First Lieutenant Arlert !" the assistant continued.

This time, Reiner looked even more anxious. Armin was known for his calm demeanor and precise moves in hand-to-hand combat—hell, he is small and agile, the best in this area. And Reiner knew this would be no easy fight as he turned to face First Lieutenant Arlert, who walked toward him, his face impassive, ready to get the job done.

Then, the assistant paused, scanning the crowd for the final pairing. 

A hush fell over the cadets as they realized who had yet to be called.

Miko Ackerman .

But who is ‘he’ getting paired with?

"Number one ranked, Miko Ackerman, paired with… Captain Jaeger !"

The silence that followed was deafening. Mikasa’s heart skipped a beat, and her stomach dropped. 

WHAT ?! 

Pairing with the Captain himself ? 

Her mind scrambled for any kind of excuse to back out, but she knew there was no escaping this—it was foolish to even think about it. 

She had to face him, the man who had watched her every move, who had been so critical of her in the past.

Across the field, Reiner visibly stiffened, shooting Mikasa a concerned glance. Bertholdt swallowed hard, and Marco—despite his own situation—couldn’t help but stare in horror. 

She could feel the eyes of the entire camp on her as she slowly made her way to the center, where Captain Jaeger stood, arms crossed, watching her with an unreadable expression. His piercing eyes met hers, and for a moment, she felt the weight of his gaze as though it could see straight through her.

“Ackerman,” Captain Jaeger said, his voice cold and authoritative. “I trust you’re ready for this?”

Mikasa swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. “Yes, Captain,” she replied, her voice a little shakier than she would have liked.

“Good,” he responded curtly. 

Without another word, he relaxed his stance before falling into a fighting stance. 

Mikasa gulps and slowly does too, whole body shaking.

The rest of the troop stepped back, watching in awe. But focused on their own spars, some even sparring already. 

Captain Jaeger hadn’t faced one of his own cadets in hand-to-hand combat so far, and now, here was ‘Miko’, a rookie, about to face him.

The Captain’s eyes never left Mikasa’s as he gestured for her to make the first move.

She takes a deep breath, exhaling it shakily, forcing herself to calm down and not think too much about who she was about to spar, and most likely, lose to. 

Chapter Text

Taking a deep breath, Mikasa rushed forward, aiming to land a strike to his side. But Captain Jaeger was faster, dodging her blow with ease and twisting to catch her arm, using her momentum against her. Mikasa grunted, trying to break free, but the Captain’s hold was firm. She fought back, using her legs to shift her weight, and managed to break his hold, sending him stumbling back.

Captain Jaeger smirked, impressed. “Not bad, Miko. You’ve come a long way.”

But Mikasa knew she wasn’t here for compliments, he was trying to cunningly distract her, for her to let her guard down. So she dove forward again, this time aiming for a series of quick strikes to his torso. Each hit was met with resistance, and Captain Jaeger parried with ease, his movements precise and measured, almost lazily. But Mikasa could see the glint of respect in his eyes as he shifted to block another strike.

Her heart raced as the fight continued, each moment feeling more intense than the last. 

As the spar raged on, the cadets slowly stood on the sidelines, watching intently. Even Lieutenant Arlert, who was usually calm and collected, couldn’t help but glance at the fight with admiration.

Captain Jaeger’s movements were impeccable, but Mikasa wasn’t backing down. She fought with everything she had, refusing to let him get the upper hand. 

Captain Jaeger blocked one of her punches and quickly punched her chest, making her stumble a few steps. Mikasa stared at him wide-eyed at how easily he stopped her and even pushed her away from him. Captain Jaeger smirks, standing a few feet away from her, arms crossed, scrutinizing her carefully. “You finished number one, right?” he asked, though he clearly knew the answer. 

Mikasa squared her shoulders, nodding stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

“Hm,” he hummed, eyes narrowing slightly. “Then prove it, Ackerman. You have not landed a single hit on me.” 

Around them, Mikasa could hear grunts and yells from the spars taking place—the yells also from the Second Lieutenants who were acting as referees—but she brought her mind back to the Captain, who now dropped into a ready stance. His feet were grounded, his muscles relaxed but poised to strike. Mikasa recognized the form—years of watching her father and brother, it was a stance of discipline and experience honed into something lethal. 

He wasn’t going to go easy on her, he was getting bored.

‘Okay, Mikasa. Focus. He’s fast. Strong. Unpredictable,’ She had watched him move before, had seen him spar with his Lieutenants before, but it was different standing right in front of him. He was taller than her, broad-shouldered and well experienced, every instinct in her body screamed at her to be ready.

Captain Jaeger didn’t attack first. 

He merely stood there, watching. 

Waiting. 

Testing her patience. 

Mikasa grit her teeth. ‘Fine.’ If he wanted her to make the first move, she would. 

With practiced precision, she lunged forward, aiming for a swift, controlled strike to gauge his reaction. 

But she never got the chance to land it. 

Again .

Eren moved like a shadow, side-stepping her attack effortlessly. Before she could recover, he grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back in a lock so quickly that she barely processed what had happened. 

A sharp pain shot up her arm, and she grunted, struggling against his hold. 

“Tsk,” he clicked his tongue as he held her down easily. “So predictable—you didn’t learn anything from Lieutenant Arlert’s class?” 

Mikasa gritted her teeth as he chuckled, making his grip loosened ever so slightly, Mikasa used it to her advantage. Twisting her body sharply, she slipped free, ducking low and kicking a leg out, trying to knock him off balance.  

Eren leaped back just in time to avoid it, his brows raising slightly. He smirked. “Not bad.” 

Mikasa didn’t let herself hesitate or give him time to get to her. She lunged again, this time feinting left before pivoting mid-step and striking from the right. 

Eren barely dodged, their bodies just inches apart as her fist whizzed past his face. He caught her wrist again, but this time, Mikasa didn’t allow him to fully grab hold. Twisting sharply, she broke free before shoving her forearm against his chest to create distance. 

Gasps rippled through the watching cadets, some of them had already finished their sparring sessions while others were slowly getting mesmerized by the spar between the number one and their Captain.

Mikasa didn’t stop to think or acknowledge the crowd. She went again, attack after attack, forcing him to block, to move. Eren’s smirk grew, almost like he was enjoying this. 

But then, before she could register it, she was flipped onto her back. 

A sharp gasp left her lips as her back hit the dirt, and in an instant, Eren was above her, one knee pressed against her torso, his arm pinning hers above her head. 

Everything stopped. 

Mikasa’s breath was caught in her throat. The weight of him, the sheer proximity—it sent her into a spiral of panic. 

Eren, still holding her down, stared at her intently. His breathing was steady, but there was something flickering behind his green eyes. 

Thrill . 

She squirmed slightly, but his grip didn’t budge. 

“Ackerman,” he sing-songed, also mockingly scolding her. He clicked his tongue. “You are not focusing—let them watch or do their own work.” 

Mikasa annoyed, frowned her eyebrows and one last burst of strength, she twisted her legs, hooking one around his knee and throwing her weight to the side. The move forced him to shift, and in that tiny window of opportunity, she flipped their positions. 

Now, she was the one pinning him . 

The gasps from the crowd grew louder, meaning everyone from the camp was now watching.

Even the First Lieutenants seemed shocked, not even them have ever managed to flip Eren like that. 

The Captain stared up at her, brows slightly raised, as if impressed. 

Mikasa, panting heavily, held his gaze, her arms trembling from exertion. Mikasa blinked, suddenly realizing she had been staring into Eren’s eyes for far too long. 

For a long moment, neither of them moved. 

Then, Captain Jaeger’s lips curled into a smirk. “You still haven’t got a hit, Ackerman.” 

She jolted back into focus rather forcefully when Captain Jaeger brought his hands up to her shoulders to lift her up a bit before bringing a knee to her chest, kicking her off of him, sending her to the ground with a huff. 

He was fast— unnaturally fast. 

Mikasa barely had time to scramble to her feet when he was already on her. Each of his movements was calculated, each strike deliberate. His attacks were more forceful than Reiner’s, but without wasted energy—he fought with discipline, unlike the brute strength of her usual sparring partner.   

Mikasa found herself on the defensive almost immediately, dodging and weaving around his punches and kicks with pure agility. 

She barely had time to think, only to react.  

But not once had she managed to land a hit.  

‘Damn it,’ Mikasa thought, frustration creeping in as she narrowly avoided a knee strike aimed at her ribs. She was fast, but he was relentless. He kept pressing forward, his green eyes sharp and analyzing, always reading her movements.  

“Don’t panic,” Eren suddenly instructed, his voice steady even as he threw another attack. “Panicking during a battle is one of 

your worst enemy in a fight. You let it control you, and you lose.”  

Mikasa barely ducked under a punch, his knuckles grazing the top of her head. Her heart pounded as she scrambled back, breathless while he remained calm, composed—untouched.  

But as she was still recovering from her scramble when a sharp pain suddenly bloomed in her side.  

Captain had landed a powerful strike against her ribs, forcing her to double over slightly.

The crowd gasped as Mikasa clenched her teeth, pushing past the pain as she straightened up, hands up in defense.  

The corner of his mouth curled. “Good. You recovered faster,” he said, nodding approvingly.  

Mikasa exhaled shakily, needed to calm down. Captain was right, she was getting desperate to at least land a hit. Her body was running on pure instinct, but instinct alone wouldn’t be enough.  

She forced herself to focus—not just on his attacks, but on his movements. She analyzed his stance, his balance, the subtle shifts in his body before he struck.  

She took a deep breath, followed Captain’s advice, and something calm came over her.

Her father’s words whispered in the back of her mind…

“Don’t just block, sweetheart—predict the blow. Strike when your opponent least expects it. Let them think they have control.”

She centered herself, inhaling deeply again.  

Captain moved in again, obviously unaware of her thoughts, but this time, she saw his attack before it came. With her mind tuning out the noise in the background and solely focused on her Captain.

It was like in slow motion when he threw a sharp right hook—Mikasa dodged, not away, but toward him. His balance wavered slightly as she struck with her palm jabbing into his ribs, quick and precise. 

Not enough to hurt, but enough to make him falter for a split second.   

Eren’s eyes flashed in mild surprise at the speed, and finally landed one on him. 

But Mikasa didn’t stop. 

She took advantage of his surprise and quickly struck again— aiming for his shoulder, his forearm, his chest—each hit calculated yet blocked, but now her movements became sharper, more precise, mind focused on her target.

The force behind her blows increased, fueled by discipline rather than desperation.   

Eren’s smirk faded as he adjusted, his movements becoming more serious. He blocked all her strikes, his forearms clashing with her fists with a sharp smack, wet with sweat. 

The murmurs and excitement among the cadets grew louder.  

First Lieutenant Arlert crossed his arms, observing with keen interest while First Lieutenants Springer and Kirstein exchanged looks, slightly impressed.  

The spar was no longer just training. 

It was a true battle of skill.   

Mikasa’s mind was emptied of everything but the fight. She felt the rhythm of it, like a dance she had suddenly mastered.  

She struck again—Eren countered. 

He went for her legs—she dodged.  

She was getting faster. Sharper. Stronger.  

Eren let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. He was out of breath . “Where were you hiding these skills, Ackerman?”  

Mikasa didn’t answer. 

She merely met his gaze with determined, unwavering eyes on his punches. 

For the first time since the match began, Captain Jaeger was fighting her for real .

Their movements became seamless—swift, sharp, and hypnotic. A perfect blend of skill and instinct. The gathered cadets and Lieutenants stood in stunned silence, their eyes locked onto the spar as if watching a performance far beyond their comprehension.  

Captain Jaeger and Miko moved like two warriors in a deadly dance. Every strike met a block. Every dodge led to another attack. It was a spectacle, a rare clash between a relentless force and an unwavering resilience.  

Mikasa barely felt the weight of exhaustion creeping in. Her body ached, her muscles burned, but she was too focused to care. 

She didn’t just keep up with the Captain—she matched him.  

Eren, mid-swing, let out a chuckle, his breath coming heavier now. “You truly are showing me what you are made of,” he muttered, throwing another punch.  

Mikasa dodged swiftly, her heart pounding not from fatigue, but from exhilaration. 

He was impressed .

Mikasa remembered a move her brother taught her a long time ago, so she smirked and suddenly feinted the Captain, shifting her body as if going for a low strike.  

Eren reacted immediately, dodging to the side.  

But it was a trap. 

And he knew it.

Before he could correct himself, Mikasa twisted, redirecting her momentum, and landed a powerful punch straight into his ribs.  

The solid thud of her fist connecting echoed through the air.  

The Captain grunted , staggering back a step, and for the first time, the entire camp gasped in surprise at seeing the Captain staggering back.

A cadet had actually landed a hit on Captain Jaeger.  

Mikasa’s pulse raced at the sound, her own eyes wide in disbelief.   

But she had no time to revel in the moment. She needs to keep focus.

Then, she surged forward, capitalizing on his momentary stumble, lifting her leg for a high kick aimed at his shoulder.  

The crowd held their breath—  

Smack .

Her ankle stopped mid-air, caught in an iron grip.  

Mikasa’s eyes widened as she looked up at the Captain, who effortlessly caught her leg, holding it firm with a smug smirk tugging at his lips.  

His grip was like steel, unwavering.   

Mikasa’s breath hitched as she tried to pull away, but it was futile.  

Eren locked his eyes to hers, his smirk deepening. “You got one good hit in,” he said, his voice calm but laced with amusement. “Now, let me end this and be for real.”  

He’ll be for real ? She thought he was being ‘ for real ’ just seconds ago!?

Before Mikasa could react, he moved.

With unbelievable agility, he twisted her leg just enough to throw off her balance, making her body pivot mid-air.  

The world spun, and before she knew it—  

Thud !

She hit the ground hard, with the Captain’s weight pressing her down.  

A grunt escaped both of them as dust kicked up from the force.  

Eren had her pinned while Mikasa’s heart pounded against her ribs as she stared up at him, her arms locked beneath his grip, her breath stolen from the sheer speed of it all.  

The Captain brought a fist up and brought it down in the blink of an eye to Mikasa’s throat, but stopped inches from it. 

The match was over.

Then, there was silence, except for the two people sparring, who were staring at each other as they gasped for air.  

Then a roar of cheers exploded around them.  

The entire camp erupted, cadets cheering, clapping, and hollering in awe. Even the Lieutenants looked thoroughly impressed.   

“That was insane!” someone shouted.  

“Miko actually landed a hit on the Captain!”  

“I’ve never seen anyone fight like that before—he actually kept up!”

Reiner let out a cheer, clapping loudly, eyes filled with admiration. Bertholdt nodded, grinning. Marco just gaped in amazement.  

Eren, still hovering over her, let out a short laugh before shaking his head. “Damn,” he muttered, breathing slightly heavier than before. “I really underestimated you.”  

Mikasa, still stunned beneath him, could only gulp, her cheeks burning as he got off of her and helped her up. 

All while the crowd went wild with their spar.

She had just fought Captain Jaeger toe-to-toe.  

And won his respect.

Mikasa groaned as she lay flat on her bedroll, every muscle in her body screaming in agony. 

They weren’t joking when they said Captain Jaeger’s training was hell . The drills, the sparring, the endurance tests—it was a constant battle against her own limits. And today, she had pushed herself further than ever before.  

She let out a deep sigh, her arms spread out, staring at the fabric of her tent ceiling. Despite the exhaustion, she smirked to herself, remembering the fight.  

Sparring with Captain Jaeger had been… exhilarating .

She had matched his pace, kept up with him, and even landed a hit on him. And for the first time since she arrived at camp, he was praising her—well, praising ‘Miko’.

That moment played in her head on repeat.  

"Damn, I really underestimated you."

She chuckled softly to herself. 

She had learned self-defense from her father and Levi, trained with Reiner almost every day—she knew she could handle herself. But to receive praise and land one on Captain Jaeger, one of the most feared and respected warriors in the Empire, according to whispers, made something stir inside her.  

She stretched her sore limbs with a wince, groaning at the tightness in her muscles, but then—  

Her entire body froze. 

Shit .

Her heart dropped.

She was supposed to meet him tonight. 

Mikasa sat up instantly, her body protesting with sharp jolts of pain, but she ignored it. She had completely forgotten. 

How could she have forgotten!? Now he is going to think she stood him up!

A glance outside the tent told her it was already late.  

Double shit .

Panic settled in because she reeked of sweat and dirt. The hours of sparring, running, and drills had left her coated in grime. There was no way she could meet him like this.  

Triple shit .

Mikasa winced at the thought of him subtly sniffing the air and questioning her about her stinking —well, she is a ‘merchant and is under the sun and walking around’, right?

But being Levi Ackerman’s sister gave her no excuse for personal hygiene, especially while meeting a person. 

She quickly spots a vase filled with cool, clear water, she had stored when she got here weeks ago. Her heart pounded in her ears as she snatched it up, then quickly reached for a faded, well-worn rag and a small bar of soap from her bath essentials.   

She dipped the rag into the water, the liquid splashing softly onto her fingertips, and squeezed out as much moisture as she could. With swift, practiced motions, she began scrubbing vigorously. First, she worked the damp rag over her face, removing layers of sweat and grime, then moved down to her neck, arms, and armpits. She rubbed the soap into her skin, her motions quick and determined—every second counted if she wanted to mask the scent and appearance of hours spent in relentless training. Her reflection in a cracked piece of mirror confirmed her efforts—though still tired and slightly disheveled, she now looked noticeably cleaner.  

Outside her tent, the camp was quiet and dark, the only sound was the faint song of the cicadas retiring to sleep too. 

After finishing her hasty cleanup, she slipped out of her tent and made her way cautiously toward the meeting spot at the lake. Every step felt charged with urgency and trepidation as she moved silently.

Meanwhile, Eren stood at the edge of the lake, his silhouette outlined against the shimmering water. Bound by a promise he’d made to her—the conditions for their meeting—he wore the blindfold, the thick black cloth tied securely over his eyes. Yet his ears, always alert, picked up the soft crunch of leaves.  

Eren’s heart hammered in his chest at the thought of her finally coming, and he stood up, a bit too quickly for his liking. 

He had been waiting here for what felt like an eternity, every minute stretching into an anxious eternity. He shifted his weight, his fingers nervously twisting the hem of his shirt, and he occasionally turned his head toward the treeline as if searching for a familiar sound. Earlier, he heard the faintest whisper of movement—he straightened abruptly, his head snapping around in that direction despite his blindfold. 

He stayed quiet, hearing if she would greet him. 

But it turned out to be a squirrel. 

A nervous laugh escaped him as he shook his head. “This is ridiculous,” he thought, half-amused and half-exasperated. 

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. There was something about her that stirred feelings he had never experienced before, a mixture of longing and fear swirled within him—a fear that if he allowed himself to know her too well, he might become too attached, especially when he already knew the grim possibility that tomorrow might be his last day on the battlefield. 

Yet, each heartbeat, each whispered word in the darkness, only deepened his yearning.  

Eren’s inner monologue roiled as he mulled over the strange arrangement they’d agreed upon. He had no idea why she preferred to hide her face, but if it meant he could hear her gentle voice in the quiet of the night, he was more than willing to accept the blindfold. ‘It’s almost frightening,’ he mused, ‘how much I want more of this—of her voice, her presence—even if I never see her.’  

The lake’s surface rippled gently as a cool breeze passed, and Eren took a deep, steadying breath. 

She was still not here. 

He sat back down against the smooth rock, silently promising himself that he would continue to wait. In that moment, he realized that he was willing to embrace this strange arrangement—even if it meant never glimpsing her face.  

His mind danced with conflicting emotions, the fear of loss, the hope of connection, and the heady thrill of the unknown.  

Mikasa moved swiftly through the darkened forest, her breath steady despite the hurried pace. Every step she took felt heavier with anticipation, her heart hammering against her ribs as she neared the lake.  

Just as she was about to break into the clearing, she froze.  

There, seated atop a large boulder near the lake’s edge, was a blindfolded Captain Jaeger.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips. He had kept his word—he always did.  

His posture was unguarded, something she wasn’t used to seeing—his head hung low between his shoulders, elbows resting on his knees, his entire frame radiating an exhaustion she rarely witnessed.  

This was dangerous. 

Suicidal . 

If he discovered her identity, if he realized that she wasn’t just some wandering merchant but one of his own soldiers, she would be executed. 

That was the law–a woman forging a male identity in the army was a grave offense.

She knows she should leave. 

Like, right now .

And yet…she couldn’t.

She had seen his true age lately, during their stumbling into each other, hidden beneath the harsh exterior. He wasn’t much older than her—just twenty, yet already burdened with the weight of command. A war was stealing his youth, forcing him into a role that should have belonged to an older, more experienced soldier. 

Mikasa exhaled slowly.

It didn’t matter. 

She shouldn’t be here.

But the damage was already done.

Steeling herself, she stepped out of the treeline.

Seeing the flickering moonlight cast sharp angles over his face, highlighting the tired lines at the corners of his mouth. She felt her heart pick up pace, an unfamiliar tightness wrapping around her chest.  

Eren, whom she feared he might have given up waiting for her, lifted his head to the sky, profile at her. 

Steeling herself, Mikasa took a deep breath, steadying her nerves before stepping forward into the lake. Her boots barely made a sound against the damp ground, but Eren heard her.  

His head snapped toward her immediately, his body tensing as if ready for action. He stood up too, as his hands twitched by his sides. Mikasa stopped abruptly at his sudden move, widening her eyes as he faced her directly, almost like he could see. 

“Is that you?” he asked, his voice even but laced with something she couldn't quite place—hope, perhaps?  

She took a small, calming breath before a small smile curved Mikasa’s lips as she continued toward him. “It’s me,” she said softly.  

At the confirmation, Eren huffed a short laugh, tilting his head slightly as a boyish smile spread across his face. (And Mikasa’s heart had no reason for it to speed upon seeing that smile.)

Despite the blindfold, she could feel the warmth behind it, the quiet relief in his posture.  

“Good,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck before dropping his hand. “For a second, I thought I was sitting here looking like an idiot for nothing.”  

Mikasa chuckled, finally stepping close enough that the tips of her boots brushed against the edge of the boulder. “You do look like an idiot,” she teased lightly.  

Eren scoffed but grinned nonetheless. “Hmm.”

Mikasa only shook her head, watching him, feeling something inexplicable settle in her chest.  

For a moment, the night seemed to hold its breath, the two of them standing there, just the sound of the lake lapping against the shore and the whisper of leaves overhead.

Mikasa sat stiffly on the boulder beside him, her body tense, every muscle coiled like a drawn bowstring. 

Eren remained still beside her, blindfolded, his breathing steady. He then exhaled sharply, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “This is strange.”  

Mikasa glanced at him. “What is?”  

“Sitting here. Talking to someone I can’t even see.” He shifted slightly, tilting his head as if trying to get a sense of her through sound alone. “It’s strange that I should feel uneasy, but I don’t.”  

Mikasa swallowed. 

‘You should feel uneasy,’ she wanted to say. ‘You and I should walk away before we regret this.’

Instead, she remained silent.  

Eren leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and his head looking straight. “You know, I never thought I’d have a conversation like this.”  

Mikasa chuckled. “Blindfolded? You agreed.”  

Eren huffs a laugh as he lowers his head. Then he turns his head toward her voice, a smile still present. “Well, yes. But I meant a conversation with someone like you.”  

She tilted her head, her heartbeat quickening. “You don’t even know who I am.”  

He let out a quiet chuckle. “That’s exactly why this is strange.” He waved a hand at both of them. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t want to be here.”  

Mikasa’s throat tightened. ‘Neither should I.’  

Eren exhaled. “I always thought my life was decided. That I’d die in battle, bring my family honor, and just be another nameless soldier in this endless war.” His voice was steady, but there was something vulnerable underneath. “I never expected to feel… whatever this is.”  

Mikasa clenched her fists as she continued to listen, heart racing too fast to be normal. 

He was falling into something dangerous. 

And so was she.  

Eren tilted his head slightly as if searching for her presence despite the blindfold. “I don’t know why, but your voice, your presence—” He paused, as if unsure whether to say it out loud. “It stays with me.”  

Mikasa stared at his face, black cloth covering his eyes, yet she felt he was staring right at her soul. She had to look away at the intensity, her eyes staring now at the calm lake. 

This was wrong. 

So wrong. 

She should shut this down, make an excuse, and never return.  

But instead, she found herself asking, ‘Why me?’  

Mikasa also didn’t know what to say, because what would she say? Never had a man ever say stuff about her like this, almost poetic. She did have boys , during her early teens, who had awkwardly said they liked her or called her pretty, but she had always misunderstood their feelings and punched them on the shoulder, thinking they were joking, or she was too nervous and that was her way to basically tell them ‘she liked them too’. They will grimace at her strength and mumble a ‘never mind’ and walk away. She didn’t know how to respond–she basically had zero social skills thanks to the people in her village and her never wanting to go past her little village. 

So instead, she remained silent. 

A silence stretched between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.  

Eren leaned back, tilting his face toward the sky. But didn’t wait for her to reply to his, kind of, confession, he was just voicing what he felt. 

Mikasa had expected this to be a tense, fleeting meeting—a mistake she would regret the moment she sat beside him. And yet, somehow, conversation came easily.  

Eren did most of the talking, which surprised her. 

He was always stern on the training grounds—he was sharp, commanding, and efficient, only speaking when his soldiers needed to be yelled at. 

But here, blindfolded under the moonlight, he seemed different—more open, more human .  

“I won’t bore you with details about the war,” he said, stretching his arms behind him, leaning his weight on his palms. “It’s not exactly… light conversation. Besides, I don’t want to burden or scare you with all that.”  

Mikasa almost scoffed. ‘Scare me?’ If only he knew.  

She had fought through grueling training, taken blows that nearly revealed her identity, suffered under his strict orders—yet here he was, sparing her from the horrors of war as if she were some fragile thing. 

The irony was almost laughable.  

Still, she only hummed in response, letting him talk.  

He spoke of small things—his worry-warts of Lieutenants he had to deal with, the ridiculous reports that piled up on his desk, the way some recruits still didn’t know how to hold a sword properly.  

“Just the other day, one of them nearly impaled himself with his own wooden blade,” Eren muttered, shaking his head. “Jean, one of my First Lieutenants, said I should just let natural selection take care of it.”  

Mikasa let out a soft, unexpected laugh because she had actually been next to that soldier he was talking about. She giggled again, remembering the scene in her head before slapping a hand over her mouth.

She blushes at her loudness as she turns to look at her Captain, who has stilled.  

And then, he smiled softly.  

He wasn’t sure why, but something in the sound of her laugh—brief as it was—made something tighten in his chest. 

It was warm and light. 

A rare thing in his world of blood and steel.  

Mikasa scolded herself internally. ‘What am I doing? This wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable. This wasn’t supposed to be anything. I’m supposed to be cautious, careful, distant !’

Yet here she was, giggling with the Captain like a fool.  

Eren, however, seemed to take it as a personal challenge.  

“Alright,” he said, leaning forward slightly, a teasing smile forming on his lips. “That was a laugh.”  

“No, it wasn’t,” Mikasa lied, trying to force her voice back to its usual steadiness.  

Eren smirked. “It was. And now I need to hear it again.”  

She turned her face away, cursing herself, from his blindfolded face. 

Eren, smiling, thought for a moment before saying, “Did I tell you about the time Connie, my other First Lieutenant, tried to spar with Armin, my childhood friend and other First Lieutenant, and lost within three seconds?”  

Mikasa shook her head, returning to face him, curious to hear this. 

Eren grinned, eyes moving with mirth despite them being shut with the cloth. “It was bad. Armin barely moved to get himself on a stance before Connie charged in like an idiot, tripped over his own feet, and landed face-first in the dirt.”

Despite herself, Mikasa huffed a laugh. Imagining Lieutenant Springer eating dirt, probably Lieutenant Arlert bursting in laughter at Springer’s teeth full of dirt. 

Eren grinned wider as he succeeded at making her laugh, and she didn’t even notice he had baited her to do so. 

Chapter Text

Time passed easily between them, a strange contrast to the rigid world they both lived in. Here, on the edge of the lake, away from the battle cries and the smell of sweat and steel, Mikasa found herself slipping into a comfort she shouldn’t allow.  

They spoke of mundane things—harmless, lighthearted conversations. Eren told her about the recruits, the ones who showed promise and the ones who made him want to throw himself into the nearest river. Mikasa had to bite back laughter when he mimicked Springer’s exasperated voice, his usually commanding tone replaced by a perfect imitation of Springer’s whining complaints about rookie incompetence.  

Mikasa, in return, shared small things—half-truths, harmless pieces of herself that wouldn’t give away the life she was hiding.  

“I have a childhood friend too, back home,” she said. He asked her if she had any friends after he told her a story about Armin. “Sasha.”  

Eren nodded slightly, silently telling her to continue. Even through the blindfold, she felt his gaze burning into her.  

Mikasa swallowed, nervous again. She cleared her throat, looking away, desperate to change the subject before she did something reckless. Mikasa exhaled, relieved, allowing herself to get lost in memories of her friend. “She is an idiot,” she said fondly. “The kind of person who would steal food from the market just for the thrill of it and then give it to the poor.”  

Eren chuckled. “Sounds like someone I wouldn’t mind being friends with either.”  

Mikasa smiled softly. “She was one of the few who accepted me for being… me .”  

Eren frowns at this, but doesn’t question her, wanting to get to know more about her.

For a moment, she let herself speak freely. She told him about Sasha’s insatiable hunger, the way she always managed to find the best places to nap, and how she could talk her way out of almost anything. She talked about the stolen loaves of bread they would share to the people in need around their village, and how Sasha is the only person to make her laugh so hard to the point of crying and her stomach hurt.  

Eren listened with a smile on his face, his heart loving her soft voice. 

Seeing Eren so attentive to her trivial conversations was sweet, and for some reason, that made it easier to keep talking.  

Maybe because she knew she wouldn’t get to talk about Sasha like this ever again.  

Maybe because she knew that, if she died in battle, no one would remember her friend the way she did.  

Maybe because they don’t know if this would be the last time she ever talked to Eren, when the war ends, and he returns to his real life.  

But for now, she allowed herself this moment.  

One last night where she could simply be Mikasa .

Eren boyishly smiles. “I’m glad you have a friend like that. And she sounds amazing by the way.”

“I am. And she is an amazing friend,” Mikasa chuckles. 

He hums, still, a soft smile on his face. Mikasa clears her throat and looks away at his face turned to her, he really is out here making her blush. Eren tilts his head, changing the topic. “And what about family? Do you have any siblings?”

Mikasa tenses. 

She never spoke about her parents to anyone except her brother and the Braus Family. 

But here, under the cover of night, sitting beside a blindfolded Captain who was more human than soldier in this moment, the words came easier than they should have.  

"My parents loved me," she said quietly, staring at the rippling water. Eren stiffens too, the past tense phrase didn’t go unnoticed. "I have an older brother, he is back home at the moment. Our parents were amazing, raised us to be good people and follow our dreams, not in the way that is expected, though. My mother refused to be the perfect housewife the Empire demanded of all women. She taught me that femininity wasn’t weakness, that obedience wasn’t the only virtue worth cultivating. That my value wasn’t tied to being quiet, pretty, and convenient.”

She takes a breath, blinking a few times as she remembers her sweet mother. 

“My father— never once treated me like I was fragile. He used to hand me blades the same way he handed them to my brother. He also trained me in a few things, and how to use my hands to build, to break, to protect.”

Eren remained silent, still giving his undying attention, but Mikasa could feel like he was engraving every word into his mind. Eren heard Mikasa speaking about her parents reverently, and he had smiled, soft and genuine. 

Mikasa saw it was not the smug, teasing smile he sometimes wore, but one that made her feel seen. So she continued. 

"He let me train with them—him and my brother," she continued, carefully leaving out their names. "When they practiced combat, I was allowed to chime in. At first, it was just small things—stances, footwork, watching from the sidelines. But then my father started teaching me how to punch. How to kick. How to fight back if anyone ever laid a hand on me."  

Eren chuckles and she smiles, but it was a ghost of one, more memory than feeling.  

"I thought it was normal. I thought…every father did that with their daughter. So whenever I would play with the girls in the village and show them mt new moves , they would look at me...like—"

Mikasa stops herself. 

She looks away from his frowning face, not wanting to see his face when he gave her his pity or soft words of how she should follow the rules. 

As she is looking away, a memory comes to her. 

A sharp one.

She had been ten years old.

She remembered the cool breeze that swept through their small village at the edge of the mountain forests, the scent of damp earth after the morning’s rain still fresh in the air. She had worn a white tunic, too long on her arms, and loose pants tucked into boots still caked in mud from her morning sparring session. 

An outfit that a girl ‘shouldn’t’ wear, because they use ‘dresses’.

That day, she had been so excited. Her father had taught her a new takedown move. Something he said he uses in the Army. She had practiced it over and over on a straw dummy in their training yard until she had it perfect.

So, when she saw the village girls playing near the market, she approached them, buzzing with pride. Maybe, finally, she could show them she wasn’t just ‘weird Mikasa’ who played too rough, wore pants, and didn’t wear her hair in braids. 

Maybe if they saw what she could do, they’d like her.

They didn’t.

She still remembered the sting of their laughter and the way they sneered, whispering to each other before one of them shouted, “Fighting is for boys! That’s disgusting!”

Another added, “Nasty freak!”

She stood frozen as the insults piled on. Her heart dropped further when she spotted the boy she'd liked— Yukio , a quiet boy with big eyes who once gave her his extra rice bun at lunch with a blush — watching from the sidelines. 

She’d heard he liked her too.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just looked away.

Mikasa had run, fast. 

Her little legs were pumping hard across the dirt road, faster than ever before, straight home. Her face burned, her chest tight with anger and shame. Her fists were clenched so hard that her fingernails dug into her palms.

She had burst through the front gates of their estate, stomping down the hall into the kitchen, where the smell of simmering soup filled the air.

Her parents turned at once — her mother setting down a ladle, her father looking up from slicing turnips — alarm flooding both of their faces at the sight of her tears.

“Mikasa?” her mother asked gently. “Sweetheart, what—”

“What’s wrong?” Kenny asked at the same time, already walking toward her.

“I hate it!” she shouted at her father, hot tears running freely now. “I don’t want to train anymore! I don’t want to be weird! You made me like this!”

Kenny stopped mid-step. Her mother went silent.

Mikasa shook with anger and humiliation, chest heaving. She didn’t mean to blame him — not really—but at that moment, it was all she could say. He had made her strong, and now they hated her for it.

Kenny looked at her quietly for a moment before slowly kneeling to her level. He didn’t look hurt or angry. Just patient. He reached out, gently taking her trembling hands in his calloused ones.

“Breathe, baby girl,” he said softly. “Calm down. Just breathe.”

She hiccuped, eyes red and full of rage, but obeyed. 

“Let’s take a walk.”

Her parents exchanged a silent glance, and her mother gave a small nod. Kenny led her outside, his hand never leaving hers, and they walked together to the small hill behind their garden — a place they often went to watch the sunset or stargaze when the skies were clear.

They sat on the grass. Titan, her beloved foal, grazed lazily in the nearby pasture with their other horses. Mikasa sniffled and wiped her face, angry that she was still crying.

Kenny looked out over the valley and said, “You know, people don’t hate what they understand. They hate what scares ’em.”

She looked down at her boots, ashamed.

“I didn’t mean to scare them.”

“You didn’t,” he said. “But you reminded them they ain’t brave. And that makes them scared.”

Mikasa was silent as she watched her father lean back on his palms. “You’re not wrong for being different, baby. You’re not wrong for being strong. You were special the second you were born — not because of what you can do, but because of who you are.”

She glanced up at him, bottom lip still trembling.

He nodded toward the pasture. “Let me ask you something. If Titan suddenly were missing half of his face, meowed like a cat, or his coat were horrible to manage, would you still love him?”

“Of course!” she said, instantly. “He’s still Titan!”

Kenny grinned at that. “Exactly.”

He reached over, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head. “So why the hell would being different make you any less lovable?”

A silence passed between them, warm and weighty.

Then, in typical Kenny fashion, he added with a smirk, “Next time those brats open their mouths, you give ’em one good punch. Right in the nose. Make your old man proud.”

Mikasa laughed through her tears, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Mama said not to punch unless I had to.”

“Well, I say if they insult your honor, that’s ‘had to.’”

She giggled again and leaned into his shoulder.

Kenny side-hugged his daughter gently as the sun was setting behind the mountains, painting the sky in oranges and soft pinks, the light catching in Mikasa’s black hair as it ruffled gently in the wind.

“You listen to me, my sweet baby,” he said, his voice softer now, barely above the rustle of leaves and the low sound of the horses munching on grass nearby. “One day, you’re gonna meet someone… someone who thinks your punches are the most amazing thing they’ve ever seen. Someone who’ll see you throw a grown man over your shoulder and think you are one hell of a girl.”

Mikasa, now calm and with a smile blooming on her lips, tilted her head up to look at him, eyes squinting playfully. “I don’t want a boyfriend, daddy,” she said with a dramatic scrunch of her nose, the faintest bit of embarrassment laced in her voice. “I just want a friend.”

Kenny let out a sharp scoff, pretending to be scandalized. “Who said anything about a boyfriend? Huh!?” He clicked his tongue and gave her a mock frown. “That’s it. No boyfriend for you until you’re seventy . You bring a guy to this house before then, and I’ll send my horse to kick his teeth in.”

Mikasa burst out laughing, covering her mouth with both hands. “Seventy?! That’s so old !”

“Good,” Kenny grunted, ruffling her black hair that’s the same color as his. “Let them old fools handle your attitude.”

She giggled even harder, then turned and wrapped her small arms around his torso tightly, burying her face in his chest. “I love you, Daddy.”

Kenny blinked, surprised for half a second, before the smile crept onto his lips. He hugged her back, strong arms enveloping her in that steady warmth that only a father could give.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “More than anything.”

They sat there like that, the laughter and softness lingering in the air, long after the sun dipped behind the trees—just a father and his little girl, wrapped in each other’s love, a moment forever etched in Mikasa’s heart.

And she did meet someone who she thought was awesome, and Mikasa thought about them the same way. 

That someone had been Sasha.

Mikasa is snapped out of her memory when she hears Eren's annoyed voice. 

" Fuck them girls.”

Mikasa turned to see him at his words, stunned at what he had just blurted out. She was not expecting that, especially from him, a Captain, who is supposed to follow the rules. 

And as she stared at his still frowning face, she couldn’t help it and laughed. 

Like an actual loud laugh. 

Eren looks at her, stunned, but laughs with her. “What? It’s true.”

Mikasa shook her head. "Well, yes. But in our village, like in most of the Empire, it was unheard of. A girl wasn’t supposed to be learning how to fight. I was supposed to learn how to kneel properly, how to pour tea with grace, how to speak only when spoken to. Instead, I was wrestling in the dirt, throwing punches at my brother while my father laughed and corrected my form to punch my poor brother harder."  

Eren chuckles, and so does Mikasa. 

She then sighs and looks down at her fumbling fingers. 

"I was too wild," she murmured, voice quieter now. "Too unladylike . The village whispered about me. They said no man would ever want a wife like me. That I was unfit for this world."  

Mikasa quickly cleared her throat, forcing her voice back into neutrality. "Anyway, it doesn’t matter now."  

Eren exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening for a brief moment. He hated it when the rules forced a person to be someone they didn’t want to be. And admired people who defy the world , and now that he knows Mikasa is doing just that, he felt his heart beat faster. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter because society would never mold you into the 'ideal woman’. So what if you are ‘too blunt’, ‘too rough or boyish’, ‘too wild’? Fuck society,” he muttered with a grimce on his mouth. “You love being free? Then stay that way. And if they don’t like it? Then give the world two big middle fingers if it tells you otherwise.”

She froze, not sure she heard him right.

She had thought— expected —him to say something entirely different. Maybe a lecture. Maybe a cautious, veiled statement about being careful or blending in better. He is a Captain , a soldier of the Empire, someone who has to follow the rules. 

Someone who had to believe in structure and order.

But instead, he told her to basically tell the Empire to shove it up. 

Her heart had softened in that instant, and she hated it. She shouldn’t have let it. She shouldn’t have let herself melt like that. 

But it was too late.

She had just stared at him in silence, her lips parted, speechless as he continued.

He ranted, voice low but heated, about how unfairly she was treated in her village. About how he admires her for being strong, capable, unrelenting — and instead of being celebrated for it, they had tried to twist it into something shameful.

She wanted to listen, she really did because he was defending her.. But her chest was tightening, not with embarrassment, but with something strange and warm.

And then, without warning, a sharp laugh had burst from her lips.

It startled even her.

Eren went dead silent, snapping his head toward her, a confused look flickering across his face. “What?”

Mikasa had clutched her middle as she kept laughing, short bursts of breath leaving her, as though something in her had cracked open and the laughter just spilled out.

“I’m sorry,” she finally managed between gasps, wiping at her eyes. “I just… I really thought you were going to say something about me needing to be more… I don’t know… feminine . Obedient. Like a good little Empire woman.”

Eren tilted his head, further confused. “ What ? Why the hell would I say that?”

Mikasa shrugged, even though he couldn’t see her. “Because you’re a Captain. You wear the uniform. I thought…” She trailed off, then looked at him, eyes glinting. “I thought you’d be like everyone else.”

Eren let out a short, almost offended scoff. “Hmph. Then you really don’t know me.”

“No,” Mikasa said, the laughter quieting into a lingering smile. “I didn’t.”

Her voice was soft now, thoughtful.

“But I think I’m starting to.”

Eren faced her for a moment longer, then turned away, suddenly shy despite his earlier boldness. His cheeks tinged red — and not from the weather.

And Mikasa… well, her heart was still soft. 

Still melting.

And it terrified her.

Because once again, a few times, someone hadn’t asked her to change.

They looked at her — all of her — and thought she was awesome.

It was after her laughter had faded. After she had stopped teasing him for his surprising, rebellious outburst.

There had been a lull then, a soft silence shared between them, just the water rippling in front of them. 

Eren had leaned back again, head fixed on the lake, his voice quieter this time.

"You know," he said, his voice lighter now, "I grew up in a household where my father was completely outruled by my mother."  

Mikasa blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change.  

"What?" she said, tilting her head in curiosity.

Eren smirked, shaking his head. "It’s true. My mother… she runs that house. My father didn’t stand a chance ."  

Mikasa found herself smiling despite herself. "You’re bluffing."  

"I swear I’m not." Eren sat straighter, grinning. "Grisha Jaeger, one of the greatest soldiers and the General in our Empire, a man who was highly respected. But in our house? He is just a fool in love. My mother is a wild thing from the start, according to my father. Fierce. Strong-willed. She doesn’t care about traditions, and didn’t care about what was expected of her. My father,” he continued, “loved her for it. Not in spite of it. Because of it. Said he fell for her when she punched a nobleman’s son in the face for talking down on her.”

That made Mikasa chuckle out loud as Eren smirked. 

“And I think…” Eren faced her then, as if his eyes could lock with hers, more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. “I think someone will love you like that, too. Just the way you are. Flaws and all.”

Mikasa had frozen, and not because of his words, though those were shocking enough, but because of the way he said them.

There was a conviction in his voice, not a gentle hope or blind optimism. 

A belief. Fierce and unwavering.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, stunned for the, she lost count, time that night.

He really knew how to do that—upend her world with a few words. Strip her down without touching her.

And Eren, for his part, didn’t elaborate. Didn’t tease or soften the moment. Because he meant it. Every word. And more than that, he meant it in ways he wasn’t quite ready to confess out loud.

Because the truth was…

Eren had been searching—without really knowing it—for someone like his mother. Someone who was themselves. Someone who didn’t give a damn about social rules or expectations. Someone real. Not delicate. Not manufactured. Not perfect.

And lately… lately, he felt it in his bones.

Mikasa might be that woman.

Her soft laughter brought him back to attention. "Thank you, Eren."  

Eren chuckled, nodding. "You are welcome."  

They laughed again, both blushing, easy and warm.  

But then, slowly, Eren’s smile faded, his fingers tapping idly against his knee as he faced her.

He hadn’t meant to say it. 

It just… slipped out.  

"I guess Jaeger boys fall in love with wild things," he murmured.  

Mikasa’s laughter slowly stopped.  

Her body stiffened, the words sinking in too quickly, too deeply as they settled between them.  

She shifted awkwardly under his blindfolded stare, feeling exposed despite his covered eyes.  

Eren, perhaps realizing what he had just said, parted his lips slightly, as if about to say something else—but no words came.  

He felt his face grow hotter, heart racing like crazy. Eren cursed himself.  

‘What the hell did I just say? I definitely freaked her out!’

He could feel the awkwardness creeping between them, thick and heavy. The way Mikasa had suddenly grown quiet, her laughter fading like a dying ember, and he could feel the tension in her posture that hadn't been there before. He had done it—said a wrong thing, let his thoughts spill out before he could catch them, and now she is never going to meet him again.

‘Idiot. Fucking idiot !’

He forced his hands to steady themselves, facing toward the lake, though his mind was a storm. He was afraid that she would get up and leave. That she would stand and disappear into the shadows of the trees, leaving him sitting here alone, blindfolded and utterly useless.  

‘Damn it. What do I do now?’

In an attempt to steady the conversation and avoid any further awkwardness or her leaving, Eren cleared his throat. "So, uh..." His voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. "What about your brother?"  

Mikasa blinked, and for a moment, surprised at the change of topic. She knew the last conversation had turned awkward, her brain had not fully recovered from his words. 

Was it a confession? Or was he just being nice?

Either one, she shakes those thoughts and calms herself before smiling at the thought of her beloved big brother.  

"My brother..." she began, her voice soft, distant, as though she were speaking of something sacred. "He's... stern. Stoic. People always wonder if he’s even human sometimes." She chuckled softly, the corners of her mouth curling, making Eren sigh in relief that she was still here and willing to talk to him. "He doesn’t show emotions much. Not unless you’re really close to him."  

Eren tilted his head, intrigued. "He sounds... intense."  

Mikasa nodded. "He is. But he’s also..." She paused, her expression distant, as if recalling a memory from long ago. "He’s my protector. Always has been. Even when we were little."  

She shifted slightly, looking up at the sky for a moment.  

"He’s the one who taught me how to defend myself after our father passed," Mikasa continued, her voice growing softer. "He would always make sure I was strong enough to fight back."  

A wistful smile danced on her lips, and her eyes shimmered, though she quickly blinked them away. "It was beautiful. Just the four of us. My father, my mother, my brother, and I."  

Eren didn’t say anything, letting her speak. He could tell there was something deeper she wasn’t saying, but for now, he wanted her to keep going. 

He wanted to know her— all of her.  

Eren smiled brightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, I guess I’m somewhat glad you decided to be a merchant. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have met."  

Mikasa scoffed, a soft laugh escaping her lips. She shook her head, amused, before glancing at him with a smile of her own. "I suppose you’re right. If I hadn't left, you wouldn't have been stuck with me now, would you?"  

She almost didn’t recognize her voice, it was light, teasing , and it felt...good. Something about this moment made the walls she had so carefully built around herself start to crumble just a little. She was speaking to someone she had just met, a man who didn’t judge her, who was listening—not just hearing—but truly listening. And that was something she hadn’t realized she craved until now.  

"I’ll be honest," she continued, her voice softer. "Talking to someone other than Sasha, her family, or my brother...it’s nice . It’s just... different. Where no one judges me for not being... the perfect poised woman."  

Eren chuckled quietly, the sound warm and genuine, though it had a trace of something deeper in it. "You should never have to be that way. People should accept you for who you are, not what they think you should be."  

Mikasa looked over at him, studying his profile even though he was blindfolded. There was sincerity in his words, and for a moment, she almost wished he could see her face, to know how much that simple sentiment meant to her.  

They both fell into a comfortable silence after that. 

Mikasa turned her gaze back to the lake, the surface of the water reflecting the faint light from the moon, dark and beautiful. The soft rustle of the trees around them seemed to carry on forever, as if time had decided to slow down just for them. Eren, though blindfolded, seemed content just sitting next to her. She could tell from the way his posture relaxed and his breathing evened out, as though being here, next to her, made everything else fade away.  

For the first time in a long while, Mikasa felt a sensation she had never experienced while being or talking to a man. It wasn’t just the lake, or the quiet—no, it was the company. It was Eren’s presence, the way he wasn’t pressing her for more answers or looking for something from her. 

He was simply... there.  

But she knew this moment couldn’t last forever.  

Tomorrow, she would have to wake up early, and so would he. Military life, after all, didn’t allow for late-night conversations by the water. She could already feel the responsibility of the camp pulling at her, the weight of her disguise still heavy on her shoulders. 

He had to go back before anyone noticed his absence.  

Mikasa sighed softly, standing up. 

Eren, startled by the movement, immediately followed suit. His footfalls were hesitant, and she could almost feel the confusion in his sudden shift.  

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.  

She chuckled lightly, trying to mask the disappointment that was creeping in. "I should leave. It’s getting late, and I bet you have an early morning."  

Eren’s expression, though half hidden behind the blindfold, was unmistakably disappointed. His shoulders slumped, and she could sense the sadness in the slight hesitation of his voice. "Oh... right."  

For a moment, the air between them thickened, a silent understanding hanging in the space. Mikasa cleared her throat. “Well, good night, Eren,” she started to turn, but then Eren spoke again, and his words made her stop.  

"Wait... Could you... meet me again tomorrow?" His voice was tentative, but there was a quiet urgency in it. "Here, same hour. I’ll wear the blindfold again, just like tonight."  

Mikasa stood still, her mind racing. 

Should she?

It wasn’t just the Captain asking her. 

It was Eren , the same Eren who had been in charge of their training, the same one who carried the weight of so many lives on his shoulders. And here he was, asking her to meet him again.

Her heart raced at the thought. She hadn’t planned this. She hadn’t planned for any of this. Yet... there was something about him that kept pulling her back in, making her want to take the risk.  

Still, she hesitated, her thoughts swirling like the water in front of her.  

Is this wise?

She didn’t have an answer, but before she could find one, she heard Eren speak again, this time more softly. "Please."  

Mikasa bit her lip, looking down at the ground, weighing her options. 

"Alright," she said softly, barely above a whisper, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. "Same hour. I’ll meet you again."  

Eren let out a soft breath of relief, and she could feel his posture straighten. "Okay," he said, his voice warm.  

Mikasa felt her heart skip a beat. As much as she tried to push it down, the excitement of meeting him again lingered in her chest.  

But with a final glance at his blindfolded self, she whispered, "I should really go now. Goodbye, Captain ."  

Eren didn’t respond immediately, but Mikasa could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, "Goodbye and sweet dreams, Mikasa ."  

And with that, she turned and disappeared into the night, her heart racing, but a part of her already looking forward to the next time they would meet.

The sun hung high in the sky as Mikasa and Reiner squared off in the training grounds while other cadets also trained around them, in clusters. The tension between them was palpable, their bodies tense and ready for the spar. It was the usual routine—sweat dripping down their faces, the clashing of feet against the ground, the occasional grunt as they exchanged blows.  

Mikasa had grown accustomed to the pain—the burn in her muscles, the exhaustion that came from the grueling training. But today, something was different. The movements were sharper, more precise, as if her body had become more attuned to the relentless pace set by Captain Jaeger earlier.  

She had a blush upon seeing him after breakfast, his face back to its default look. Stern and confident.

Totally different from yesterday night with a blindfold on his eyes. 

Mikasa blamed the hot sun for her blush whenever Reiner, who was standing next to her in formation, whispered if ‘he’ was okay. 

She shook those thoughts off and focused on her partner.

Ackerman could feel Reiner’s determination in every strike, but it wasn’t enough. She was faster, stronger, and more precise. 

And it was no accident.  

After the spar with Ere— the Captain . She needs to remember that when she is ‘Miko’, she has to refer to him as her Captain.

The Captain’s training had been brutal this afternoon, pushing them further than the Lieutenants had, and Mikasa found herself at the edge of her limits. 

But somehow, it felt... satisfying. 

Even though she was exhausted, there was a part of her that relished in the grind. 

It was a kind of release—a way to drown out the thoughts of her double life, the fear of being discovered.  

She blocked another of Reiner’s strikes, sidestepping with a fluidity that came from hours of practice. Her foot swept beneath his, knocking him off balance, and in an instant, she was there.  

A sharp punch to his abdomen sent Reiner stumbling back, huffing out a breath from the force. 

He caught himself just in time, a grin tugging at his lips despite the wind knocked from his lungs. "Yikes. That one hurt, Ackerman," he wheezed, wiping the sweat from his brow.  

Mikasa smiled, the satisfaction of managing Reiner, a total tank with muscles, feels pain when he usually doesn’t, is gratifying.

Then, Reiner lunged toward her again, this time faster than before. She reacted instinctively, her body moving on its own to dodge or block his kicks and punches. Mikasa winces at one particular punch that sends her back, and knows it will leave a bruise on her forearm.

“That hurt, huh?” Reiner smugly laughed as he pulled his fists up again. Mikasa pulls her fists up too, she scoffs.

“ That girly punch? Don’t make me laugh, Braun,” Mikasa laughs mockingly as Reiner, looking offended, launches at her. This time, he was throwing harder punches, but Mikasa did too. She feigned that she was going to punch his side, which he saw and protected with his arm. Mikasa smirks and swiftly jumps and brings a knee to kick his chest, sending him tumbling to the ground.  

Mikasa, with a knee buried on his chest, smirks triumphantly down at Reiner, who rolls his eyes but has a smile on his face.

He grumbles. “Damn you and your agility.” 

She chuckles and gets off of him to help him up, once up, he opens his mouth to say something, but they are interrupted by Second Lieutenant Forster. 

"That’s enough," the redhead scribbles something in his scroll and nods his head at them. "You’ve both done well," he said, his voice gruff. "But you need to rest. Go get dinner and rest for tomorrow’s training—we will start with weaponry.” 

Both, panting hard from the spar, saluted their superior before walking towards the kitchen, weaving through the clusters of men still sparring.

As she walked to the side of the training grounds to collect her 

At night, the command tent was filled with the usual easy chatter, the clinking of utensils, and the sound of boots shuffling against the dirt floor. It was a rare moment of respite for the soldiers, a brief chance to eat and talk in between the intense sessions of training and preparation, and the looming war.  

Eren stood at the front of the room, his plate half-empty, not particularly hungry but too wired to focus on anything else. His Lieutenants stood around him, silently eating. Every now and then, they exchanged short words, mostly about the state of their rookies, the grueling training, and the constant fear that hung over them.  

Eren didn’t join in much. His mind was preoccupied with seeing the reports from other camps were coming in steadily, most of them about the enemy forces up north.

Even when he ate, it felt more like a task than a moment of relaxation. 

The Lieutenants’ assistants were busy circulating, bringing in reports and maps. Each one handed their papers to the respective officers and quietly slipped out of the tent. The last one left, and for a moment, there was nothing but the soft hum of quiet conversation.  

While each Lieutenant read their reports, reading out loud every now and then any interesting news, the flap of the tent was ripped open.  

Floch, Second Lieutenant of the troop, came rushing in. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear, his hands trembling as he held something tightly.  

Eren’s heart stopped. 

He put his plate down without thinking, his attention immediately focused on the Lieutenant.  

"Forster," Eren called sharply, his voice betraying none of the worry churning in his stomach. "What is it? Speak."  

Floch, who had come to stand at attention, seemed to hesitate before delivering the scroll to his Captain. His movements were stiff, unnatural.  

"It's... from Marley, sir," Floch stammered. "The capital has sent word."  

Everyone in the tent knew that a letter sent from Marley could be either good or bad .

A sickening chill ran down Eren's spine as he snatched the scroll from Floch, tearing it open with a quick motion. His eyes scanned the text, each word feeling heavier than the last.  

His stomach dropped as he read the details—details that seemed almost too horrific to believe. 

The enemy had made their second move.  

The message detailed how several camps up north had been ambushed, how towns were slaughtered on their way to the capital. It spoke of decimated villages, of defenseless people who had been caught off guard, their lives lost in a ruthless assault.  

Eren, in a daze, handed over the scroll to whoever was on his right, which happened to be Jean. 

The other two hurried up to Jean’s side to read the message too, while Floch stood at attention, curious about what the scroll could say to cause a reaction like that in his Captain. 

"They've attacked… they’ve slaughtered innocent civilians?" Jean's voice cracked, his hand gripping the edge of the scroll.  

Armin stepped forward, his brows furrowing as he absorbed the full weight of the message. "They’ve moved much faster than we expected."  

Connie, standing next to them, simply shook his head. "They were kids in those towns up there—those monsters ."  

Eren’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as his mind raced through the possibilities, the implications. The capital was in danger. Their entire kingdom could fall if they didn’t act swiftly. And every second they spent standing still, in training, in preparation, the enemy was gaining ground.  

Eren sat still for a moment, his mind racing as he remembered the last part of the scroll, again, again, and again. His fingers trembled ever so slightly as the world blurred before him. The message had come directly from the Emperor himself, and it was far more dire than anything he could have prepared for. 

“I request that all troops head north immediately to confront the enemy. We must stop them before they reach the capital, or all will be lost. The capital, myself—everything depends on your swift action.”

The words seemed to echo in his ears, making the space feel smaller. He closed his eyes, his chest tightening as the reality of the situation settled in. They were not just defending the capital now—they were fighting for the life of the Emperor himself and their people.

The fate of the kingdom rested in their hands. 

Eren took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. The weight of the responsibility nearly crushed him, but there was no time for hesitation. He couldn't show fear now. He couldn't afford to falter. His men were depending on him. 

He slammed his fists down on the table, hitting it with a resounding thud that made everyone in the room freeze. His eyes blazed with determination as he turned to Floch, who was still standing at attention, waiting for further orders.

“Forster,” Eren barked, his voice sharp and commanding despite the swirling anxiety inside him. “Spread the word. We leave at dawn. Every soldier must be ready. We march north to meet the enemy head-on.”

Floch didn’t hesitate. He saluted quickly, his face already flushed with urgency. “Yes, Captain!” he replied before sprinting out of the tent without another word.

Eren turned to his Lieutenants, the three men he trusted most. Armin, Jean, and Connie all stood next to him, their expressions grim, but their loyalty unwavering. They knew the gravity of the situation—no one had to say a word.

"Armin," Eren said, his voice steadying as he met the eyes of his strategist, "I need a full battle plan. We need to hit them before they reach the capital. We can’t afford to lose ground.”

Armin immediately pulled out a set of maps from his satchel, unfolding them on the table in front of them. “If we push forward with the half force of our troops, we can flank them with the other half. It will be risky, but we’ll catch them off guard. The enemy is moving fast, but they’ll be exhausted if we can force them into a prolonged fight, so another troop can finish them off.”

Eren nodded sharply. “Then we’ll force them into a prolonged fight.” His eyes locked with Armin’s, Armin nodded and hastily scribbled on the map. Eren then turned to see his other two Lieutenants. “Jean, Connie, you’ll take a few soldiers with you, and take the right and left flanks. Don’t let them escape. I don’t care how tired they are—we need to crush them before they can regroup.”

Jean straightened up, clenching his fists in determination. “Understood. We’ll make sure they have nowhere to retreat.”

Connie gave a quick nod. “We’ll keep them contained.”

Eren paced the small tent, his mind working in overdrive. “We need to strike fast, but we also need to be prepared for anything. If the enemy has reinforcements on the way, we could be walking right into a trap. I don’t care if we’re outnumbered—we hold them. We can’t let them get any closer to the capital.”

Armin’s eyes flickered to the map again. “We’ll need to reinforce the flanks. I’ll position the artillery there—keep their numbers in check. We’ll need to fight smart, but we can do it.”

Eren stopped pacing and turned to look at his Lieutenants. The fear was still there, buried deep in his chest, but he couldn't let it show. He wouldn’t let it show. He had to lead them to victory. For the kingdom. For the Emperor. For the soldiers he’d sworn to protect. He wasn’t going to let any of them die—not if he could help it.

He met each of their gazes in turn. “This is our moment. We fight like we’ve never fought before. This is not just a battle—it’s our survival. We win this, we save the capital, we save the Empire. There’s no other option. We have to win.”

The three Lieutenants stood taller, their resolve strengthening in the face of their Captain’s conviction. Eren felt the air shift, the weight of his leadership settling on his shoulders. He had no choice now but to lead them into this battle, to push them past their limits. And he would fight alongside them, to the last breath, if it meant saving everything they held dear.

“Get ready,” Eren commanded, his voice hard. “We don’t stop until the enemy is wiped from the map.”

They all nodded, and with that, the plan was set. The troops would move at first light, and Eren would lead them into battle, pushing forward into the unknown, against an enemy that was just as desperate, just as hungry for victory.

But Eren would not let his men die in vain. 

He would not let this Empire fall.

As the Lieutenants began to disperse to carry out their orders, Eren stood alone in the dim light of the tent, his fists clenched at his sides. His mind raced, but his determination burned brighter than ever. 

This was it. 

The battle of their lives, and he would lead them into victory, no matter the cost.

Mikasa stood by her horse, brushing him with slow, deliberate movements as he ate his dinner. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the web of the decisions she had made. She thought about Eren and the growing connection between them. Yesterday night when they met at the lake, she found herself more and more drawn to him. But she couldn't afford this. Not now. She had to end things—end the nightly meetings, the laughter, the fleeting moments where she felt something other than the weight of her secret. She couldn't let him get too close, not when the truth about her identity hung like a sword over her head. 

Her hands paused mid-brush as her thoughts spiraled. The lake, their conversations, the warmth of his presence—it all felt like a fleeting dream she couldn’t afford to indulge in. Eren was the Captain. He was the one leading them into battle, a leader who didn’t know his own soldier was standing right beside him, hiding in plain sight.

Mikasa let out a long sigh, the weight of the choice pressing on her chest. She knew what she had to do. She couldn't risk revealing herself—there was too much at stake. The army was already harsh on women, and if anyone found out she was the one who had taken Levi’s place, it would mean death. She'd already risked too much.

But despite the resolute thoughts in her mind, she couldn't stop her heart from beating faster at the memory of Eren's grin, his voice, the way his presence made her feel something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

She tried to push the thoughts aside as she finished brushing Titan's sleek black coat, but her mind kept drifting back to Eren. The sound of distant voices broke through her thoughts, and she froze. The air around her seemed to shift, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She could hear the commotion from the camp, voices raised in urgency. She couldn't make out all of the words, but she distinctly heard ‘ enemy ’, ‘ made a move ’, and ‘ we leave at dawn ’.

Her stomach dropped, panic seizing her chest. The enemy had made their move? The war had escalated? 

They weren’t going to just march to defend the capital—they were heading straight into battle. 

Mikasa quickly shoved her things into her bag, stomping the makeshift fire out in haste, her movements frantic as she tried to think. The sounds of soldiers shouting and organizing only made her heart race faster. She quickly began to pack up her small camp.

Just as she finished packing, a familiar voice rang out through the dark. "Miko!" Reiner jogged up to her, his face tense, his voice urgent. "Did you hear? The enemy’s already moving down south to the capital. We’re leaving before the sun rises. They need us to pack, and immediately, you and I are assigned to help the kitchen staff."

Mikasa turned to face him, forcing herself to stay composed. Her mind was still reeling from the shock of the news, but she couldn’t let Reiner see her fear. She nodded quickly, still trying to process everything she had just heard. "Yeah, okay. I just finished. Let’s go.” 

After she pats Titan’s neck, she and Reiner rush down the small hill toward the kitchen tent.

“So what happened?" she asked, her voice tight, betraying none of the panic that was building in her chest.

Reiner exhaled sharply, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as they weaved through chaos. "Reports came in that the enemy ambushed several camps up north and started slaughtering towns on the way to the capital. It’s bad. We’re going into full mobilization. Captain Jaeger’s already given the order—we leave at dawn, like I said."

Mikasa’s heart hammered in her chest as Reiner’s words sank in. The situation had become much more dire than she had expected. They would face an enemy that had already shown its brutality, and Mikasa wasn’t sure if they were ready for what awaited them.

Mikasa nodded, her expression hardening. "We’ll fight. We’ll win." She looked at Reiner with determination, surprising him.

He chuckled and nodded. “Damn straight we will.”

Mikasa sat tall atop Titan, her gloved fingers tightening around the reins as she listened intently to Captain Jaeger’s orders. The convoy stretched across the plains, soldiers mounted and ready, their armor glinting under the early morning sun. The crisp air carried the scent of damp earth and steel, and though silence had settled over the troops, the tension was palpable.

Eren’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. “Stay close! No stragglers! We’re heading north and stopping only when necessary. The Imperial Army will surround the enemy before they reach the capital. We ambush them before they have a chance to retaliate!” His voice was strong, commanding, but beneath it, Mikasa could hear the weight he carried. He was young—too young to bear the burden of an entire troop, yet here he was, leading them to battle.

The nervous energy among the soldiers was almost suffocating, but none of them faltered. They had trained for this. They knew this moment would come. Now, it was time to fight for their Empire.

Mikasa took a deep breath, her heart steadying as she glanced at the horizon. Titan shifted beneath her, sensing her unease, his ears flicking back as if to reassure her. She reached down and gave him a firm pat, silently telling him that she was ready.

“Move out!” Eren shouted, his voice carrying across the field, leading the convoy.

In one swift motion, the entire convoy surged forward, hooves pounding against the dirt as they followed their captain into battle. The empire's fate rested on their shoulders, and Mikasa knew—no matter the cost—she would see this through to the end.

She will see her loved ones once again.

Chapter Text

Mikasa stood by her Titan, brushing him with slow, deliberate movements as he ate his dinner. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the web of the decisions she had made. She thought about Eren and the growing connection between them. 

Last night, when they met at the lake, she found herself more and more drawn to him. But she couldn't afford this. Not now. She had to end things—end the nightly meetings, the laughter, the fleeting moments where she felt something other than the weight of her secret. She couldn't let him get too close, not when the truth about her identity hung like a sword over her head. 

Her hands paused mid-brush as her thoughts spiraled. The lake, their conversations, the warmth of his presence—it all felt like a fleeting dream she couldn’t afford to indulge in. 

Eren was a— her— Captain. 

Her superior.

He was the one leading them into battle, a leader who didn’t know his own soldier was standing right beside him, hiding in plain sight.

Mikasa let out a long sigh, the weight of the choice pressing on her chest. She knew what she had to do. She couldn't risk revealing herself—there was too much at stake. This world was already harsh on women, and if anyone found out she was the one who had taken Levi’s place, it would mean death. She'd already risked too much.

But despite the resolute thoughts in her mind, she couldn't stop her heart from beating faster at the memory of Eren's grin, his voice, the way his presence made her feel something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

She tried to push the thoughts aside as she finished brushing Titan's sleek black coat, but her mind kept drifting back to Eren. The sound of distant voices broke through her thoughts, and she froze. The air around her seemed to shift, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She could hear and see the commotion from the camp, voices raised in urgency. She couldn't make out all of the words, but she distinctly heard ‘ enemy ’, ‘ made a move ’, and ‘ we leave at dawn ’.

Her stomach dropped, panic seizing her chest. The enemy had made their move? The war had escalated? 

Mikasa quickly shoved her things into her bags, stomping the makeshift fire out in haste, her movements frantic as she tried to think. The sounds of soldiers shouting and organizing only made her heart race faster. She quickly began to pack up her small camp.

Just as she finished packing, a familiar voice rang out through the dark. 

" Miko !" Reiner jogged up to her, his face tense, his voice urgent. "Did you hear? The enemy’s already moving down south to the capital. We’re leaving before the sun rises. They need us to pack immediately—you and I are assigned to help the kitchen staff."

Mikasa turned to face him, forcing herself to stay composed. Her mind was still reeling from the shock of the news, but she couldn’t let Reiner see her fear. She nodded quickly, still trying to process everything she had just heard. "Yeah, okay. I just finished. Let’s go.” 

After she pats Titan’s neck, she and Reiner rush down the small hill toward the kitchen tent.

“So what happened?" she asked, her voice tight, betraying none of the panic that was building in her chest.

Reiner exhaled sharply, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as they weaved through chaos. "Reports came in that the enemy ambushed several camps up north and started slaughtering towns on the way to the capital. It’s bad. Captain Jaeger’s already given the order—we leave at dawn, like I said."

Mikasa’s heart hammered in her chest as Reiner’s words sank in. The situation had become much more dire than she had expected. They would face an enemy that had already shown its brutality, and Mikasa wasn’t sure if they were ready for what awaited them.

Mikasa nodded, her expression hardening. "We’ll fight. We’ll win." She looked at Reiner with determination, surprising him.

He chuckled and nodded. “Damn straight we will.”

Mikasa sat tall atop Titan, her gloved fingers tightening around the reins as she listened intently to Captain Jaeger’s orders. The convoy stretched across the plains, soldiers mounted and ready, their armor glinting under the early morning sun. The crisp air carried the scent of damp earth and steel, and though silence had settled over the troops, the tension was palpable.

Eren’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. “Stay close! No stragglers! We’re heading north and stopping only when necessary. The Imperial Army will surround the enemy before they reach the capital. We ambush them before they have a chance to retaliate!” His voice was strong, commanding, but beneath it, Mikasa could hear the weight he carried. He was young—too young to bear the burden of an entire troop, yet here he was, leading them to battle.

The nervous energy among the soldiers was almost suffocating, but none of them faltered. They had trained for this. They knew this moment would come. 

Now, it was time to fight for their people.

Mikasa took a deep breath, her heart steadying as she glanced at the horizon. Titan shifted beneath her, sensing her unease, his ears flicking back as if to reassure her. She reached down and gave him a firm pat, silently telling him that she was ready.

“Move out!” Eren shouted, his voice carrying across the field, leading the convoy.

In one swift motion, the entire convoy surged forward, hooves pounding against the dirt as they followed their Captain. The Empire's fate rested on their shoulders, and Mikasa knew—no matter the cost—she would see this through to the end.

She will see her loved ones once again.

The rhythmic pounding of hooves against the dirt filled the afternoon air, but Eren barely registered the sound. His eyes remained locked on the maps spread across his saddle, his brows drawn tight in deep concentration. His mind raced with countless thoughts—strategies, formations, ambush points, and contingency plans. He needed to anticipate every move the enemy would make. He needed to ensure that his men made it back alive. 

Every single one of them.

The weight of leadership pressed against his shoulders like an iron yoke. How could he inspire confidence when even he wasn’t sure if he could do this? His men trusted him, followed him without hesitation—but was that trust misplaced?

Unbeknownst to him, Armin had noticed the turmoil brewing behind Eren’s sharp eyes. The blond lieutenant eased his horse forward, leaving Connie and Jean behind. He rode beside Eren, studying his friend’s tense expression before nudging his boot against Eren’s stirrup.

Eren blinked, finally looking up with a frown. “What?” His voice was sharper than he intended.

Armin only smiled, knowing certainly that something was going on. “What’s wrong?”

Eren sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he rolled up the maps. “ Everything ,” he admitted. “We’re outnumbered. Even if we get there before the enemy reaches the capital, we’ll have to take them by surprise, or we’ll be slaughtered. I need to think of every possible strategy, every way to minimize losses—but there are too many unknowns. We don’t know their exact numbers. We don’t know if they’ve set up countermeasures for an ambush. What if we’re the ones walking into a trap?” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his tone. “I keep trying to think of ways to protect them—our men—but the truth is, I can’t guarantee anything. And that’s what’s eating me alive.”

Armin listened patiently, his expression calm, though his blue eyes held warmth. “You’ve always carried the weight of the world on your shoulders, Eren,” he said softly. “Even when we were kids, you never let anyone else take on the burden. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

Eren scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “I’m their Captain, Armin. If I fail, they die. How can I expect anyone to share that burden?”

Armin's grip tightened on the reins. “Because that’s what leaders do. You lead them, yes, but you also trust them. You have three Lieutenants, a troop behind you, and an entire Empire counting on us. And most of all, I trust you. Jean, Connie, the rest of us—we all trust you. We wouldn’t follow you if we didn’t.”

Eren exhaled slowly, his tense muscles loosening just a fraction. He turned his gaze to Armin, studying his best friend’s unwavering confidence in him. It was comforting in a way he couldn’t quite put into words.

“You really trust me that much?” he muttered, voice quieter now.

Armin chuckled. “I always have.”

Eren let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re overthinking,” Armin teased.

Eren sighed again, this time with less weight behind it. “Maybe.”

Armin patted his shoulder. “Just remember, you’re not alone in this. You lead us, but we fight together.”

Eren stared ahead at the long road stretching north, his grip on the reins steadying. He nodded once, determination flickering in his sharp green eyes. “Right. Together.”

Armin, ever observant, finally decided to voice something that had been gnawing at him all morning.

“You know,” he began casually, adjusting his grip on the reins, “I saw you leaving your tent before dawn.”

Eren’s shoulders tensed immediately, his fingers instinctively tightening around his horse’s reins. His green eyes flickered briefly toward Armin before looking straight ahead again. “So?” he muttered.

Armin tilted his head, studying him with a knowing look. “You had a weird expression on your face. You looked…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Sad. Distant. Maybe even reluctant.” He glanced at Eren out of the corner of his eye. “And that’s not like you.”

Eren felt heat creeping up his neck and turned his face away slightly, as if the movement would somehow hide his reaction. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly.

Armin narrowed his eyes in suspicion. That was a terrible lie. Eren never hesitated, never showed doubt—at least not openly. And yet, that look on his face this morning…

Armin suddenly slowed his horse, circling behind Eren to the other side, forcing a new angle of view.

Eren tensed further.

Armin’s smirk widened.

A dusting of red had crept across Eren’s face—a blush.

A rare sight indeed.

Armin didn’t push, not yet, but he kept his smirk in place as he rode alongside his best friend, who was now blatantly avoiding his gaze. “Huh,” Armin hummed, amused. “You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

Eren scowled, keeping his gaze stubbornly on the road. “Drop it, Armin.”

“Not a chance,” Armin said, though he let the conversation settle into silence for now.

Meanwhile, Eren was silently panicking. He could still feel the weight of the scroll he’d left behind by the lake—his unspoken goodbye to her. 

To Mikasa.

It had been reckless, he knew. He should never have gotten involved with a mysterious woman under such strange circumstances, but there was something about her that had pulled him in. The sound of her voice, the way she laughed—damn it, he had made her laugh. That wasn’t something he could easily forget.

But war waited for no one. There was no future in stolen midnight meetings, no time for soft whispers and quiet moments by the lake. And so, he had left a letter, a final message, pouring his heart onto paper in a way he could never do in person.

Eren clenched his jaw, staring down at the worn leather of his gloves. His chest felt heavy.

Armin watched him patiently, letting him wrestle with whatever was clawing at his mind. He didn’t need to say anything.

His thoughts were elsewhere—left behind at the lake where he had written his final words to her.

It had been reckless, foolish even, to leave behind that scroll. He was a military captain, and she was a woman he barely knew. And yet, she had managed to sink into his heart like an arrow, piercing through every layer of hardened steel he had built around himself.

He remembered the way his hands trembled as he wrote, the candlelight flickering in his tent as he struggled to find the right words. What did one say in a goodbye that wasn’t supposed to happen? How did he explain what she had done to him in such a short time?

At first, he had tried to keep it brief, a "I wish we had more time."

But that wasn’t enough.

So he kept writing, pouring his heart onto the parchment like a man confessing his sins.

He told her that meeting her had been unexpected, but somehow, it had become the one thing he looked forward to. That her voice, her laughter, had given him something he never realized he was missing. That for the first time in his life, he wasn’t just thinking about battle strategies or survival—he was thinking about her.

He told her that he was leaving at dawn. That duty called him away.

That war was cruel and did not wait for stolen moments by the lake.

He told her that he didn’t know if he would survive.

But if he did—if fate were kind enough to grant him another chance—he would return.

He would find her.

And if she was still there, if she wanted to see him again, then perhaps they could start over. Perhaps he could remove the blindfold and finally look into the eyes of the woman who had enchanted him.

But if she was gone… if time had moved on without him… then he hoped she lived a life free from war. A life full of the laughter she so rarely allowed herself.

Eren had rolled the parchment carefully, tying it with a piece of string.

And when no one was watching, under the cover of early morning darkness, he had made his way to the lake one last time. He placed the scroll in the hollow of a tree near the water’s edge, where he knew she would find it.

Then he had stood there for a long moment, staring at the place where they had sat together, where they had talked about things that had nothing to do with war or death.

He had clenched his fists at his sides, jaw tight, forcing himself to turn away.

And now, as he rode north toward battle, he could feel the weight of that goodbye pressing on his chest like a heavy stone.

Would she find it?

Would she read his words and understand just how much he wished things were different?

Or would she think him a fool?

Eren shut his eyes briefly, exhaling sharply.

Feeling the ache settle deep in his chest, an unfamiliar, suffocating weight pressing against his ribs. He had been in battles before, had lost comrades, had seen the brutality of war firsthand—but this was different. This was her.

The reality of it hit him like a punch to the gut. He may never see Mikasa again.

Even if he made it out of this war alive, even if he somehow managed to return with his men, the chances of finding her again were slim. He didn't even know her true circumstances. Had she been traveling? Passing through? Would she still be near the camp by the time he returned—if he returned?

His grip tightened on the reins.

No, he wouldn’t accept that. He would find her again.

When the war ended, he would come back. He would return to where they were stationed, search the nearby towns, and scour the marketplace for any sign of her. He would take leave—hell, he’d call it a vacation if he had to—and spend time at the lake, waiting for her, just for the chance that she might return.

But deep down, he knew how foolish that was.

He knew that war changed people. That time moved on, whether they wanted it to or not.

For all he knew, she would assume he had died in battle, mourn him for a brief moment, and then move on with her life. Maybe she would marry some merchant, settle in a quiet village, and have the peaceful life that women in the Empire were expected to have.

The mere thought made Eren’s heart squeeze painfully, an ugly, twisting jealousy curling in his stomach. The image of her beside someone else, smiling, laughing the way she had with him… it was unbearable.

He hated himself for feeling this way. He had no right to her. He barely even knew her, and yet, she had burrowed her way so deeply into his heart that the idea of losing her—truly losing her—was something he wasn’t prepared to face.

His hands curled so tightly around the leather reins that his knuckles turned white.

Armin, riding beside him, studied his posture carefully.

He saw the stiffness in Eren’s shoulders, the downward tilt of his head, the distant look in his eyes. He wasn’t just focused on battle plans anymore—this was something else.

Something personal.

Armin didn’t say anything just yet. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them, knowing that whatever was troubling Eren, it wasn’t just about war.

Eren took a deep breath, gripping the reins tightly as he stared ahead at the endless road stretching before them. His chest felt heavy, his mind clouded with thoughts he couldn't yet put into words.

Without looking at Armin, he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for his friend to hear over the steady rhythm of hooves against the dirt road.

"I need time to tell you what I was doing this morning."

Armin, who had been patiently watching him, raised an eyebrow but smiled knowingly. He didn’t press, didn’t push for answers like he normally would. Instead, he gave a firm nod, his voice calm and reassuring.

"Of course," he said simply. "You know I’m always here for you."

Eren finally turned to look at him, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. He gave Armin a small, genuine smile, grateful for the quiet understanding between them.

But before the moment could linger too long, Armin suddenly scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"You look ridiculous brooding over those maps all on your own," he said, nudging Eren’s arm. "Hand some over. I’m not your First Lieutenant and best friend for nothing."

Eren let out a chuckle, shaking his head as he passed a few rolled-up maps to Armin. "Fine, fine. Since you insist."

Armin smirked. "I do insist. We both know you’re overthinking every possible strategy by yourself when you’ve got me right here."

Eren sighed but couldn't argue. "Yeah… I just don’t want to mess this up, Armin. We can’t afford a mistake."

"That’s why I’m here," Armin said matter-of-factly, unrolling one of the maps and scanning it. "And Jean. And Connie. And all the men who trust you to lead them. You don’t have to bear the weight of this alone, Eren."

Eren exhaled slowly, nodding. "I know."

And just like that, the heaviness in his chest lifted slightly as they fell into easy conversation, analyzing routes, discussing possible battle strategies, and occasionally slipping into old habits of teasing each other.

For a moment, it felt like they were just two childhood friends again, talking about plans and ideas with excitement instead of the looming shadow of war.

Meanwhile, at the rear of the convoy, a much lighter conversation was unfolding.

Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt were deep in a heated argument—one that, despite its intensity, had nothing to do with battle strategies or enemy formations.

“I’m telling you, nothing goes better with fish than roasted potatoes,” Reiner insisted, his hands gripping the reins of his horse tightly as he gestured animatedly. “Crispy on the outside, soft on the inside. Perfect balance.”

Marco shook his head, exasperated. “No, no, you’re both wrong. It’s rice. Plain, simple, and it soaks up all the juices. It’s the best complement to fish.”

Bertholdt, who had been silent up until now, finally sighed. “You’re both being ridiculous,” he muttered. “Bread is obviously the best choice. A nice, crusty loaf to dip into the broth or sauce. What’s better than that?”

The bickering continued, their voices rising slightly over the steady rhythm of hooves against the dirt road.

Mikasa and Niccolo, the newest addition to their group since their departure, rode just behind them, exchanging amused glances as they listened to the ridiculous debate.

Niccolo, a trained chef before the war had forced him into military service, scoffed quietly. “Amateurs,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Mikasa arched an eyebrow, interested. “And what do you think, Niccolo?”

He smirked, clearly pleased to have a group of his age. The kitchen staff were way older than, and while they were good people, it’s always fun when the group is his age, all thanks to Miko and Reiner. Niccolo looks at his new friends and puffs out his chest, he is a chef in training after all. “If you’re going to do it right, fish should be served with a wine sauce and paired with either roasted vegetables or a small amount of rice. Rice and potatoes are fine, but they lack sophistication.”

Marco and Reiner immediately groaned in protest, except for Bertholdt, who grinned victoriously since he chose rice, and hearing a chef agree with him gave him satisfaction. 

“Sophistication?” Reiner huffed. “We’re not dining at the Emperor’s palace. We’re eating in a damn war camp.”

Marco nodded in agreement. “ Exactly . We need food that fills you up, not some fancy plate with a drizzle of sauce,” he sighed dramatically. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually arguing about this,” Mikasa muttered, but she smirked, let them go on, finding the argument strangely comforting. For a moment, it felt like they weren’t soldiers heading into battle—it felt like a group of friends, riding together on a normal evening, talking about nothing and everything.

Mikasa and Niccolo quietly distanced themselves from the three still bickering about food, their voices fading into the background as they rode side by side.

Niccolo exhaled and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "Idiots," he muttered under his breath, though there was no real malice in his tone. "They could be discussing strategy or battle formations, but no, they’re arguing about food ."

Mikasa chuckled softly, shaking her head. "It’s the little things that keep people sane."

Niccolo hummed in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose."

A comfortable silence fell between them before Mikasa finally spoke. "Where’s home for you?"

Niccolo’s gaze flickered ahead, lost in thought. "Small village near the southern coast," he said after a moment. "Just me and my mom now. My dad was a soldier—killed in a battle when I was little. She’s back home with some relatives."

Mikasa nodded, her expression softening. "I’m sorry for your loss, and I bet your mom sure misses you."

Niccolo nods back at her, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "No need to be sorry, it was a long time ago, but thank you—and my mom wanted me to stay at home and be a chef, not a soldier. But war doesn’t exactly give you a choice."

Mikasa smiled faintly, her mind suddenly drifting elsewhere.

Sasha would like him.

The thought hit her unexpectedly, and she had to suppress a smirk as she imagined Sasha’s reaction upon meeting Niccolo. He was nice, polite, and most importantly, he didn’t seem to share the same rigid views that most men in Japan had about women and their roles.

Oh, and he was a great cook .

That alone would have Sasha ready to marry him on the spot.

Mikasa’s smile deepened as she thought about it, but she didn’t realize how obvious her expression was until Niccolo suddenly frowned, catching sight of her mischievous look.

He narrowed his eyes. "Okay, what."

Mikasa blinked and quickly wiped the smirk off her face. "Nothing," she said, too quickly.

Niccolo wasn’t convinced. He tilted his head, studying her carefully. "No, no, you were smirking at me like you know something I don’t. What is it?"

Mikasa cleared her throat and shook her head, feigning innocence. "It’s nothing."

Niccolo continued to frown but eventually let out a chuckle. "Fine. Keep your secrets."

Mikasa just smiled to herself. 

Oh, if they made it through this war, she was definitely introducing him to Sasha.

Chapter Text

Several days later, Eren and his troop finally reached the northern territories. 

The terrain had shifted, slowly transforming into jagged slopes and dense thickets of evergreen trees, cloaked in a creeping mist. The wind was constant now—sharp, chilly, and biting—slipping through two layers now. Horses snorted and huffed, their breath creating clouds in the chill air.  

Eren rode at the front, scarf wrapped tight around the lower half of his face, his eyes narrowed against the gusts. His gloved hand gripped the reins firmly, but it was his thoughts that wore him down more than the cold. The enemy was somewhere out here, moving like a phantom toward the capital. He could feel it, the tension in the air tightening with every passing hour.  

He didn’t want to stop—not until they found the enemy or at least their trail. 

But he also knew his limits... and his men's. 

They were exhausted. The horses were slowing, soldiers were growing quiet and sluggish, and the sharp awareness needed to fight was dulling under fatigue.  

“Which village did you say, Armin?” Eren glances at his friend, who is guiding his horse to walk next to Eren’s. 

“There’s a village on the mountains, it could be good, we could have high ground in case of an attack?” Armin gave Eren the map, pointing to the black circle on the map he drew. 

The Captain hums and squints his eyes, tightening his hold on the map, as a gust of cold wind hits them. “Seems promising, we should check it out first,” Eren said, giving the map back to Armin, who nodded. 

Eren sighs, and they keep going further north, they have to at least cover more ground, closer to the enemy. 

As the trees parted, snow in their path now, the faint outline of a small village appeared on the top of a hill. Eren hesitated. He halted his horse and motioned for his First Lieutenants to ride up next to him. The Second Lieutenants held their hands, ordering the troop to stop. 

"It's a risk," Jean said, following his gaze toward the village. The First Lieutenants knew what their Captain was thinking as they stared at the cozy houses. 

Connie voices his concern. "If the enemy’s scouting, they might spot us easily."  

Eren nodded grimly. "I know. But we need rest. Shelter. Supplies." He clenched his jaw. Then glanced at his men behind him, who had stopped and were waiting for his orders. "I won't let them collapse before the battle even starts."  

Armin studied the map on his lap. "This village is small. Off most trade routes. If the enemy did pass by, they probably didn’t bother stopping. We could post guards and rotate watches. The layout’s easy to defend."  

Eren weighed the risks, then exhaled slowly through his nose. He turned his waist to look back again, eyes sweeping over the weary line of soldiers stretching back down the trail—men slumped in their saddles, horses dragging hooves. His Lieutenants weren’t doing much better— Connie , always the loudest, looked pale and tense.  

Finally, Eren raised his voice above the wind, his tone sharp and commanding.

“We stop at the village ahead! Move out!”  

The response was immediate and telling—collective sighs of relief, horses quickening slightly as the news rippled back through the line. Jean groaned dramatically in gratitude. Connie actually muttered, “Thank the ancestors,” under his breath.  

Even Mikasa, further back in the convoy, didn’t hide the small exhale of relief.  

They weren’t safe yet. Not by a long shot. But for tonight, at least, they’d be out of the cold around them, with warm food and a chance to breathe before facing whatever horrors lay ahead in the northern fog.  

Eren moves, watching the distant village get closer with each hoofbeat. He didn’t like risking the innocent lives of the villagers—but he had no choice. War didn’t wait for ideal options. It forced you to choose between risks and regrets.  

And Eren Jaeger, Captain in the Southern province of the Imperial Army, would carry those regrets himself if it meant keeping his soldiers alive to keep innocent people alive.

Inside a modest cabin, the smell of burning firewood lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of damp earth and boiled roots. It served for the village’s gatherings, the interior was dim, but warm, with thick wooden beams lining the ceiling. Eren and Armin stood across from an older man bundled in furs, his lined face carved by both years and winters. This was the village’s leader—a man named Oluo, who wasn’t quite a mayor by title, but served as a guide and voice of reason for his people.

Eren’s posture was rigid but respectful, his tone formal as he explained the situation. 

“We won’t stay longer than three days,” he promised, unrolling a small map and showing their current position. “We need shelter for those nights and basic supplies. In return, I will ensure that no harm comes to your people. We will post guards around the perimeter.”

Oluo frowned thoughtfully, his eyes flicking toward the Captain’s Lieutenant, who gave him a reassuring nod.  

“We’ve heard the rumors,” Oluo said finally. His voice was low and gruff. “About the enemy. That they’re on the move. That they’ve attacked towns to the north west.”

“They have,” Armin replied quietly. “We’ve confirmed it. That’s why we’re here—headed north to stop them before they reach the capital.”  

Oluo let out a breath and nodded slowly, resignation in his weathered eyes. “Then I suppose this old village has no choice but to play its part.”

Eren bowed his head slightly in gratitude. “Thank you. We’ll keep our distance from your homes. The soldiers will camp just outside the east. If you could spare some firewood and perhaps a bit of flour or dried meat, we’ll repay you.”

“I’ll see what we can offer.” Oluo’s stern eyes softened for a moment. “Your men look tired, Captain. Let them rest. I’ve lived through too many battles, and the look in your soldiers’ eyes is one I’ve seen before.”

Eren met the old man’s gaze and nodded.

Outside, the sky was darkening, a deep cobalt blue stretched thin over the trees. Jean stood outside, near the door, with his arms crossed, talking quietly with Connie as they watched the troop at the gates of the village, on standby, hoping to unpack.  

“I’m not used to Eren talking this long without shouting,” Jean muttered. “Think they’re letting us stay?”

“Better hope so,” Connie said, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them. “I swear, if I have to sleep one more night with my face half-frozen and Armin’s elbow in my ribs—”

Jean snorted. “You snore like a dying hog. Don’t blame Armin.”

They both turned as Eren and Armin exited the cabin, the elder waving them off with a grunt and retreating inside.

“Well?” Jean asked.

Eren gave them a rare, small smile as he stepped down from the porch. “We’re staying.”

Connie raised both arms with a cheer. “Praise the great Captain, he’s found us a roof and soup.” then he immediately jogged off to relay the good news down the gates.

Eren turned to Armin as they walked back toward the soldiers. “We’ll rest for a couple of days. Then we move.”

Armin nodded in agreement, though he glanced sideways at his friend. He could still see the weight behind Eren’s eyes—the weight of everything that still lay ahead.

Under the dull glow of twilight and the distant flicker of campfires, Mikasa and Reiner moved in sync, setting up their shared tent near the edge of the village. It wasn’t an unusual pairing—they’d bunked together before, back when Lieutenant Springer used to bark orders during their grueling training weeks ago—but the arrangement still stirred unease in Mikasa.

Her secret, her identity, made things complicated. Every shared space was a gamble.

The two horses nearby—Titan, and Reiner’s borrowed thick-chested horse—chewed contentedly at their sweet feed, tethered loosely to a post. Titan lifted his head once to nudge Mikasa’s shoulder gently before resuming his meal, sensing her tension the way he always did.

Reiner let out a heavy breath and rolled his shoulders as he unfurled the last of the tent canvas. “Damn, I’m exhausted,” he muttered, pressing a palm to his lower back with a wince. “Let’s finish this quick so I can collapse and pretend I don’t have bones.”

Mikasa gave him a quiet, amused look as she staked one side of the canvas to the ground, her sleeves rolled up past her elbows. “You’re not the only one,” she replied.

Just as Reiner began to secure the rope to the post, the sound of approaching boots made both of them freeze.

Second Lieutenant Forster and his assistant walked up to them. The moment Mikasa and Reiner recognized the redhead and narrow eyes of their superior officer, they dropped everything and stood at attention, saluting with perfect form despite the cold in their bones.

“At ease,” Forster said immediately, barely glancing at their salute. His tone was clipped and efficient. “You two are on third watch. Which is early morning, don’t worry, the relaying shift would wake you up.”

Mikasa and Reiner sighed in relief. That was hours after bedtime. Not the worst shift, but far from the best. Reiner simply grunted, suppressing a sigh.

“We are going to eat dinner at the dining hall in a few,” Forster added, already turning on his heel. “Then get to bed. I want alert eyes tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” they both responded in unison before snapping back to ease. Forster gave a single nod and walked off, his assistant in tow as he checked out something in his scroll, before walking to another pairing.

Mikasa turned back to the tent, letting out a breath as she picked up the rope again. “Third watch,” she said under her breath.

“At least it’s not first,” Reiner offered with a tired chuckle. “I’d rather have a few hours of sleep than be the poor bastard who gets dragged out before dinner.”

The night was crisp and heavy with silence, save for the muted steps of boots crunching over snow-hardened paths and the occasional creak of old timber fences lining the village. Mikasa walked in measured stride beside Reiner, both clad in their cloaks, their breaths misting in the cold as they patrolled the perimeter assigned to them.

A few other soldiers were posted along neighboring routes, spread out enough for safety, but still within earshot if anything were to happen. Their presence added a comforting weight to the darkness.

“I swear,” Reiner was saying, squinting into the dark as they rounded the edge of a stable, “if they serve salted cabbage again tomorrow, I might just take my chances with the enemy.”

Mikasa snorted softly, adjusting her scarf tighter around her neck as she held their lantern higher to illuminate their path. “You’ve eaten worse.”

Reiner grinned. “True. But I had to convince my stomach it wasn’t a declaration of war.”

For a while, their conversation was meaningless—simple banter to fill the stillness of the night. It helped pass the time, keeping their thoughts from wandering.

But Mikasa’s eyes, ever scanning, caught movement down the town’s only main street. Her breath hitched for a moment, and she instinctively slowed her pace. At the far end of the road, under the hanging lanterns that marked the village’s meeting cabin, she saw a familiar silhouette.

Captain Jaeger.

He moved with his Lieutenants flanking him—Arlert, calm as ever, quietly briefing him, Kirstein and Springer a few paces behind, weariness etched deep into their postures. But Eren—his movements were sluggish, heavy. His head was down as they entered the cabin, the door shutting softly behind them.

A pang of worry struck Mikasa’s chest.

Her steps faltered for just a second, barely noticeable, but enough to pull her attention inward.

He looked... drained. Not just physically. Something else. Like the weight of the war had carved itself deeper into him than ever before.

But then she caught herself, and instantly her brows creased.

What the hell was she doing?

Worrying about the Captain like this? 

This wasn’t just about concern for her commanding officer. Mikasa felt it—something else stirring in the hollows of her chest. The kind of worry that didn’t belong in her heart, she has to forbid herself from feeling it.

She exhaled sharply through her nose and forced her gaze away from the cabin.

‘Pull yourself together.’

“What’s got you so quiet all of a sudden?” Reiner asked beside her, oblivious as he scratched the back of his neck.

Mikasa blinked, startled from her spiraling thoughts. “Nothing,” she replied quickly, eyes snapping forward.

Reiner didn’t push it. He shrugged and continued his idle talk about fish stew and the chances of snow falling before the week was out.

Mikasa let him ramble. Her ears listened, but her mind... her mind had already wandered back toward that cabin at the edge of town. 

To a man with too much weight on his shoulders. 

She tightened her grip on her cloak and shoved the thoughts down. She was a soldier before anything else. Before her feelings. Before ‘Mikasa’ , who can freely think and worry about Eren.

But right now, with the war looming and her life at risk, she is ‘Miko’, a soldier under Captain Jaeger. 

And soldiers don’t have… those feelings for their Captain.

The next morning dawned with a dull, gray light filtering through the windows of the village’s large dining hall. The crackle of hearth fires and the clatter of spoons echoed faintly off the wooden walls, mixing with the low hum of over a hundred soldiers trying to shake off the chill and fill their stomachs before assigned on another long day of patrolling, others going to hunt, some sleeping during their free time, others on helping around the village.

Mikasa sat quietly among them, tucked into a corner of a long bench near the back wall. She just came back from checking on Titan. The horses were settled in the stables, she had thanked her fellow soldiers in charge of the horses, talking to Titan for a few minutes before heading to eat. The hall was packed almost shoulder-to-shoulder, the warmth from so many bodies helping to fight off the biting cold that threatened to seep in through the chinks in the old wood.

Ninety-nine men and one woman .

Not that anyone needed to know the last part. 

Only Mikasa did. And she intended to keep it that way.

She kept her head down as she spooned a modest helping of porridge into her mouth, eyes scanning the room. Most were too tired to talk, their conversations kept to low murmurs. A few laughed in clusters, likely over something idiotic one of them had said. Mikasa’s peripheral view caught Reiner, who yawned and then sipped his porridge slowly. She smirks at her blond friend before turning to see Marco, sitting across from her, dissecting a roll of stale bread like it offended him. And Bertholdt, sitting next to him, was lazily staring at his porridge, hand on his chin. 

She is tired herself, but they are acting pathetically, she rolls her eyes with a smile. Mikasa is about to lighten the mood when she catches it.

“…villager said the weather’s gonna turn tonight or early tomorrow,” one soldier, who was seated behind her, muttered to his friend, his voice just above a whisper, but they were less than an arm's length from each other. So she could hear him clearly. 

“Blizzard,” another one confirmed, mouth full. “Thick one. Said it might last days.”

Mikasa paused.

Blizzard?

She stared down at her bowl, then slowly resumed sipping. 

Great. 

As if the long march north wasn’t already grueling enough. A blizzard would make traveling hell—visibility gone, risk of ambushes, slowed progress, miserable conditions, and freezing nights. 

Not ideal.

She wonders is they are going to travel or they will stay put. She sighs before lifting her bowl to her lips and sipping her porridge—and then a sharp, familiar pinch radiates through her lower abdomen.

Her face twitched at the pain. 

It was subtle. But it hit again. A dull cramp. 

One she knew far too well.

Mikasa’s sipping halted. Her gaze dropped, unfocused, as realization crept in like an ambush from the woods.

She lowers her bowl.

No.

No .

Not now. Not here . 

There was no way.

Her lips parted slightly, and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. The cramp faded again, teasing her like a warning shot.

She hadn’t had her period in weeks . 

Timely once a month, and since it hadn't come, she completely forgot about it. She guessed the stress of training, Jaeger’s brutal drills—her body had held off. 

But why now?

She almost whined in protest. 

Now , of all times, it decided to make an appearance?

Her jaw clenched as she took a sharp gulp of her watered-down tea, and then forced the rest of her porridge down. Her stomach twisted—not from the food, but from the weight of the impending inconvenience.

Of course her body chose now to betray her.

And worse, if they marched straight into snow, she’d have no privacy. No warmth. No time to change rags. One wrong move, one slip, and the façade she’d built over the last year could crumble in seconds.

She clenched her fists under the table and exhaled through her nose. 

She would find a way. She always did.

But damn if it wasn’t the worst timing imaginable.

Mikasa sat stiffly, as another cramp twisted in her lower stomach, this one sharper than the last, and she had to clench her jaw to keep from reacting outwardly. The discomfort was growing steadily worse, and now there was no doubt in her mind.

It had started.

“ Dammit ,” she muttered under her breath, voice low and tense.

She cursed again, this time a string of harsh words that would’ve earned her a punch on the face if they’d been directed at another soldier. 

Her voice was still quiet—but not quiet enough.

To her left, Reiner paused mid-sentence. He had been joking with Marco and Bertholdt about something trivial, probably another ridiculous story, but now his focus was on her.

“What’s with the curses?” he asked, raising a brow and smirking.

Mikasa straightened and glanced at her friends, whose attention was now on her. She forced down the urge to grimace as another cramp hit her. She reached for the ‘deep’, gravelly tone she’d carefully crafted.

“Your snoring,” she said, voice hoarse. “Kept me up again.”

Reiner blinked, then frowned. “Oh, come on —my snoring isn’t that bad!”

Marco and Bertholdt burst out laughing.

“Not that bad?!” Marco said between chuckles. “You sound like a dying bear!”

Reiner’s jaw dropped. “I do not ! It’s called manly breathing!”

Mikasa used the moment of chaos to her advantage. As the three continued bickering—Reiner red-faced, Marco teasing, Bertholdt chuckling quietly—she slid from her bench and slipped out of the dining hall.

Outside, the cold air bit at her face, waking her up more fully as she beelined for her tent at the edge of the encampment they rose. Mikasa ducked into her tent, heart pounding.

She had to move fast.

If she was going to get through the next few days without raising suspicion, she needed supplies. 

She couldn’t afford a leak. 

Her plan was clear: shed her uniform disguise, grab a plain tunic from her satchel, cover her head with a scarf that was given to them once the weather turned cold, and make a run for the general store. It wasn’t far, but she had to go as herself . There was no way she could walk into a store as a soldier and buy cotton rags without making someone raise an eyebrow. 

She stripped out of her uniform quickly, tucking the bindings and breastplate away, then pulled the tunic over her head and tied her scarf low around her face, only her eyes showing. With the coins she kept hidden in the lining of her bag, she peeked her head out to make sure there were no soldiers roaming around or patrols, luckily, they were far off, so she darted out of the tent and into the narrow, shaded alleys behind the town’s main square.

The store was small and musty, its shelves lined with soap, candles, tools, and cloth goods. She kept her voice low and avoided eye contact, but the woman behind the counter didn’t seem to care. Mikasa purchased a bundle of cotton rags, folded and tied with string, and slipped them under her arm before darting out the side entrance and into the back alley.

Almost there. 

She made sure the scarf was in place, kept her head down, and swiftly walked to the alleyway, avoiding people seeing her. 

Just a few more turns, sneak between a few patrols, and she’d be —

Slamming straight into someone turning a corner.

She huffed out a breath upon colliding with the wall of a body.

The bundle fell to the snowy path as well as her, on her butt.

She looked up slowly.

And her soul left her body.

Captain Jaeger .

Mikasa felt like time had stopped for a second.

He was standing right there—coat unbuttoned, baby hairs on his forehead ruffled from the wind, brows up in surprise as he looked at the small figure who had just collided with him. His green eyes flicked to the gray scarf, to the fallen bundle, to her wide, panicked eyes?—no wait, she looked away too fast for him to see them. 

Mikasa’s heart plummeted.

They stayed there for a beat—frozen in time—in that narrow alleyway behind the bakery store, the cold morning air settling around them like fog. Mikasa remained seated, her palms to the frozen earth. 

Her breath was quick, almost shallow.

“ Shit ,” she whispered under her breath as the wind picked and threatened to uncover her face. 

She scrambled to secure the scarf more firmly and reached beside her suddenly, snatching the bundle of rags from the snow like it was her only tether to reality. Her cold fingers clutched it tightly, her shoulders curling in on themselves as she muttered, “I’m sorry. Sorry, sir—wasn’t looking—”

The words were muffled, quick, not the gruff voice she had mastered. 

No, this voice was smaller. Natural. 

Hers .

Eren blinked, finally shaken out of his stupor, because her voice sounded somewhat familiar. He hunched in front of her quickly. “Hey—no, it’s okay. Here—let me help you up.”

She hesitated—but the moment lasted only a second. It would look stranger if she refused. So she allowed him to gently take her hand and help her to her feet.

The moment he touched her, her entire body shivered, and it was not from the cold.

And he had too. 

“You okay?” he asked. His voice was kind but curious. He tilted his head slightly as if trying to get a better look at her face, obscured as it was under her scarf. 

But she kept lowering her face or looking away. She nodded quickly. “Yes, thank you, sir. Goodbye,” she said quietly, and tried to turn, tried to leave.

But Eren’s brow furrowed in concentration.

That voice.

Though quiet, there was no mistake. He could blindly, no pun intended, since he had to wear a blindfold as he talked to her, make out her soft voice anywhere. 

It hit him like a punch to the gut.

No. 

No, it couldn’t be her.

But yet—

He took a small step forward as she started to walk away.

“Wait,” he said as he followed her. 

She froze mid-step.

Eren smiled, a breath of disbelieving laughter escaping him. “ Mikasa ?”

The name hit her like a sword across the chest.

She flinched—visibly—a ripple of panic running through her entire frame. Her grip on the bundle of cotton rags tightened as her mind screamed a thousand curses.

He recognized her! 

Her thoughts blurred.

‘Now what?! Think, think—ancestors, think!’

She couldn’t breathe, feeling her pulse thunder in her ears.

How much had he seen? Only her eyes? If so, no big deal, there are tons of people with her type of eye color, so it's okay. 

She took a deep breath and kept her head down, saying nothing.

Eren took another step, now standing closer, still half-laughing like he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I—I can’t believe this,” he said, eyes shining in wonder. “What are the odds? Here, of all places. What are you—how are you—wait, weren’t you supposed to be down south? You’re—” his eyes widened again, “you’re a merchant, right? You said you have ties in that trade—spirits, I need to shut up.”

Mikasa’s heart melted at his rambling and also leaped in joy because he was piecing it together in his own way, feeding himself a convenient narrative.

Good.

That was good. She could build on that.

She nodded slowly, shoulders still hunched, scarf still pulled tight around her face. “Yes, I travel north pretty often.”

Eren kept looking at her back, his grin widening.

“I thought about you,” he said before blushing and widening her eyes at what he just said. “I mean—not like that, I just—”

“I need to get going.”

Mikasa took another step forward, heart pounding harder with every beat. She needs to leave before this explodes in her face. He looks at her in confusion. “I—” she began, but her voice cracked.

Eren's brow furrowed.

She cleared her throat quickly, steadying it. “I have to go,” she said, voice firm, face still turned away, scarf hiding everything but her long lashes framing the delicate line of her beautiful eyes.

Eren took a quick step forward, alarmed. “What? Wait—no, don’t go yet!”

Mikasa stiffened, her hands gripping the bundle tighter until her knuckles turned white. She was sweating under the scarf, heat crawling up her neck despite the frigid air.

She still remained with her back to him as he stopped right behind her. Mikasa feels herself shiver upon feeling his body heat, even though they weren't touching.

“I really have to go, Eren. I have…to attend to some personal matters,” she blushes hard, embarrassed, but she is hoping he can understand and finally let her go.

Eren frowns even further and then widens his eyes as he remembers seeing a bundle of cloth with her. He knows because his mother told him so years back. He flushes. “ Oh ! I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to hold you up! That’s—I mean, I totally understand—I mean—not that I understand but I—Do you need anything? Tea? Food?—damn it, I’ll shut up now.”

She pursed her lips to prevent a chuckle from escaping her lips.

Eren wanted the earth to swallow him, rubbing his hands over his face and thinking to himself, ‘Idiot. Idiot. Why’d you have to do that?’

And though Mikasa didn’t dare look back fully, she allowed herself one tiny glance, listening to his rambling, she wanted to catch a glimpse of his awkward self when she turned her body slightly to the side. 

She found herself looking up just slightly, enough to show wide, amused eyes above her scarf, before snapping her gaze away again.

Mikasa saw his eyes fill with despair before noticing her turning her head. His green eyes turned to surprise as they locked eyes for two seconds.

Eren stood there for too long after she turned her face from him, his mind still scrambling to process what had just happened. The air was cold, sharp, biting—but not nearly as much as the image that had just etched itself into his memory like a brand.

Her eyes .

For the briefest two seconds , just above that gray scarf—those eyes had met his.

Green and black.

Just a flicker. 

Seconds' worth for the exchange of his gold.

And it was enough to stop the world around him.

His breath had caught in his chest. His heart gave out a strange stutter, the kind that made his knees feel like stone and the rest of him feel light. Like something had reached out and squeezed every vital part of him at once.

They were like nothing he had seen before. People had often told him he had pretty eyes, but Eren should tell them to come and see hers .

He fails to compare to those dark eyes.

Dark like the ocean at night, or the bottom of the lake where they used to sit and talk for hours. 

They were deep, soft, and endless—he found himself lost in them in just the two seconds he saw them. Framed by thick, impossibly long lashes. 

Beautiful, haunting… familiar ?

So damn familiar.

Where had he—?

He saw her briskly walking away with a whispered goodbye, her bundle of rags clutched tight in her arms and her entire face burning under the scarf.

“W- wait —!”

His voice cracked as he lurched forward, mind blank, heart in shambles. It was stupid, reckless. But he couldn’t let her just walk away.

Not without at least trying.

Mikasa, still facing forward, stopped at his command.

She didn’t turn, of course, but she stiffened. 

Every line of her body went rigid.

Eren stopped a few steps behind her, breath coming out in little white clouds. He rushed the words, like a man throwing stones into the sea and hoping one skips. “Could… I see you again?”

She stiffened even more, and Eren noticed, making him cringe.

He immediately felt how that must’ve sounded—demanding? No, he asked, so…desperate? Yeah, he did sound desperate, even a bit pushy. 

He raised a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously and looking down, then sideways, at anything that wasn’t her stiffened silhouette.

“I mean—I just—I thought maybe we could talk again. Later, of course.” He exhaled. “It’s just that…it’s nice talking to you.”

Mikasa was still facing away, cursing violently under her breath in silence.

‘What the hell do I do now?’ she thought. Mikasa stood frozen in place, the rags tucked tightly under her arm, the wind brushing softly past her scarf.

But the real storm was inside her.

Her entire body had gone rigid the moment he asked—but this... this second question sent her brain into complete shutdown.

“How about tonight?”

Her eyes shut tight, mouth dry, mind spiraling like a tossed coin with no promise of landing.

Tonight ?

Absolutely not.

There was no way she could manage that. 

Not tonight—not any night in fact.

She didn’t have her own space, didn’t have the freedom to come and go without suspicion. She had a roommate, Reiner.

They were sharing a tent during their stay here—just like they had during their training rotation under Lieutenant Springer. Back then, it had been hard enough to keep disguise, her bindings secure, her routine. And now, with Reiner being one of the few who actually knew her well enough to notice the slightest change in behavior?

She could already picture it—Reiner waking up during the night and finding her bedroll empty. The questions. The scrutiny. The unspoken dread in her gut that someone might piece things together.

She couldn't risk it.

Not with him.

Not with anyone.

And especially not with Eren Jaeger.

But—damn it—why was it so hard to just say no ?

Why couldn’t she just turn around and tell him, “I’m sorry, I can’t,” and leave?

Because she knew.

Because she remembered his voice from their past few encounters. Because she remembered how soft his words had become, how curious and earnest he’d sounded. Because, despite every screaming logical fiber in her mind, she liked talking to him too.

And now... now she was suffocating in her own silence.

Behind her, Eren stood still, and though she couldn’t see him, she could feel the weight of his nervous anticipation. He was giving her space, waiting—hoping—for her response.

And that, more than anything, made it worse.

He was waiting. 

Quiet. Gentle. Patient.

Which made her heart squeeze and her stomach twist into painful knots, more than her period cramps. 

He probably thought she was about to let him down gently, maybe invent an excuse, give a vague “maybe another time” and slip away like a dream again.

So she was just about to speak—her lips parting to say something, anything—when Eren’s voice cut through the cold again.

“Are you…are you taken , Mikasa?”

Her eyes widened open, almost bulging. 

For a second, the question didn’t even register.

But then it hit her like a punch to the chest.

Taken ?

She blinked in disbelief, then squeezed her eyes shut again, heart pounding erratically in her chest.

Eren had clearly spoken out of nerves—his voice was a little rushed, like he hadn’t meant to say it, like it tumbled out before he could stop it. But there was something painfully raw in the question.

Something uncertain.

Something vulnerable.

He didn’t mean to corner her. But he also couldn’t bear not knowing, is that the reason she is always hesitant about meeting him? She is with someone already? Or is she simply interested, and she doesn’t know how to let him down?

She bets that the very idea of her hesitating to see him—of her always looking like she was about to run—must’ve been enough to chip away at him.

Behind her scarf, Mikasa bit her lip to keep from laughing—not at him, but at the absurdity of it all.

Taken?

Her ?

She huffed a tiny laugh, unable to help herself.

Of all the reasons to turn him down, that was not one of them. There was no man in her life. Hell, she barely had time for a guy back at home with helping Levi around the estate, let alone entertain romantic involvement. (Not that she didn’t have any suitors back home, they were either afraid of being judged for going out with the ‘unsuitable one’ or the most common one, which was that they were scared of Levi .)

And now, every second of her life was consumed by her role, her disguise, and the constant dread that one mistake could bring it all crashing down.

So obviously, she isn’t taken .

Still facing away, Mikasa shook her head slightly, letting out a breath of disbelief.

“No,” she said finally, voice low, calm, but tinged with mirth. “I’m not taken.”

Eren blinked. “Really?” he blurted, then immediately winced at how eager that sounded. He clears his throat. “Oh, that’s—umm. Me neither,” He blushes hard, hand to rub the back of his neck again, looking away as if she is staring him down. 

God, he felt like a teenager.

While, behind her scarf, Mikasa's face was burning red.

He had really asked that. And worse, she’d actually answered. And even worse, some part of her had enjoyed that he’d wanted to know and that he wasn’t spoken for. 

She cleared her throat, then shook her head more definitively.

“But I can’t tonight,” she added, her voice gaining a bit of steadiness. “Just... I have somewhere I need to be. Early.”

Eren’s heart sank—but only a little.

Because she hadn’t said no to other times.

She’d just said not tonight.

And that was something.

He smiles softly and nods, “Of course,” he looks at the back of her covered head. “Maybe another time?”

God, what was she doing?

But her heart betrayed her, answering before her fear could stop her.

“Maybe,” she said with a smile in her voice. 

The Captain smiles wider, ignoring the flutter in his stomach, and nods. “Okay, well if you need anything, just ask any soldier for me and I’ll help you to whatever I can.”

“Thank you. But I have everything, I traded a few things.”  

Her heart clenched at his concern. Mikasa thanks him again anyway. “Well, I will be on my way. Have a good day, Eren.”

Eren let out a breathy laugh, half in disbelief, half in awe. “Take care. And you too, have a good day, Mikasa.”

She walks away slowly, over her shoulder, she says, “What a coincidence finding each other here, right?” 

He chuckled as he stared at her walking away. “ Coincidence , huh?” He smiled, softly, reached his tired eyes. “Or maybe…it’s fate .”

That made Mikasa stop. 

Her fingers twitched on her bundle. Her chest ached at his whispered words. 

She closed her eyes for just a moment, holding back the rise in her throat. A soft, bitter laugh escaped her lips—muffled by the scarf.

“ Fate ,” she repeated quietly, almost like a prayer or a curse, as she finally walked out of his sight.

Because deep down…he might be right.

Fate really was funny sometimes.

Painfully so.

Back at the cold alleyway, Eren is standing there, staring at where she was seconds ago. 

“ Fate ,” he whispered to himself.

Village inspo ✨

https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/36937

Chapter Text

Mikasa didn’t go back the way she came. 

She knew better.

Weeks of hiding had trained her to assume the worst—especially when it came to covering her tracks.

She turned left instead of right, slipping into an alley between two weathered buildings, letting her feet carry her toward a completely different section of the village. Her eyes scanned behind her, the rag bundle held tightly to her chest like contraband.

She didn’t see anyone following her, but that didn’t stop her from weaving through the narrow back lanes like a phantom. She ducked beneath low-hanging roofs, passed by a horse tethered to a post, and dodged a few villagers carrying baskets. Her scarf was still wrapped tight around her head, and she pulled it higher over her face.

Just in case.

If Captain Jaeger—or anyone else—had decided to follow her out of curiosity or suspicion, she’d make damn sure they had no idea where she was headed.

Only once she was sure the path behind her was empty—utterly devoid of boots, soldiers, or familiar voices—did she allow herself to sprint.

She ran hard, boots kicking up slush and loose snowy-dirt as she dashed along the edge of the field that circled the encampment. The guards stationed by the outer perimeter of their camp had their backs turned at her—thank the heavens—and Mikasa used the last scrap of her stealth training to slip behind a supply cart. She bolted across the last few meters, practically diving behind the tents, heart pounding, lungs burning. Her breath came in sharp puffs, and her forehead was damp with sweat.

Her shared tent finally came into view, the canvas flap flapping loosely in the breeze.

Please, please, please —Reiner, please still be out. 

She yanked it open and almost collapsed when she saw the interior empty.

Reiner wasn’t here yet.

No boots. No clunky armor strewn by the bedroll. No blond head resting lazily on a pillow. No grumbling voice talking to himself.

Mikasa didn’t know whether to laugh or cry in relief.

Because if he had been there, she didn’t even know what excuse she could’ve made. 

She couldn’t risk saying that she, a woman , went for a walk and ‘accidentally’ just happened to stumble into this particular tent—that would’ve drawn questions. 

The lie would have crumbled under its own weight.

And worse... her disguise would’ve, too.

Still trembling, she rushed to her bedroll and dropped to her knees, finally taking a moment to breathe.

The rag bundle was still clutched in her grip, and she wasted no time.

Her hands worked fast, untying the knots of her tunic, slipping off her pants just enough to make the switch. The cramps were dull but growing, and every second without that bit of protection felt like a countdown to disaster.

She secured the makeshift pad into her undergarments with practiced precision, then immediately reached for the bindings she kept hidden beneath her pack. Her arms trembled slightly as she quickly wound them around her chest, flattening her silhouette and pressing her form back into what the world thought was a man.

It wasn’t comfortable.

But then again, it never had been.

After that came the breastplate and uniform—her soldier tunic, the one caked in dust and fraying at the cuffs. She adjusted the belt, laced up her boots.

Finally, she threw herself face-down onto the bedroll, the coarse fabric rough against her skin.

And she let out a muffled, frustrated cry.

“ Ughhhhhhh —!”

Her voice was half-growl, half-scream, buried into the roll of her blanket.

In the matter of minutes, her life had descended into complete, unrelenting chaos.

It had started with the worst thing possible: her period, deciding to show up during a critical travel week, when she was meant to be at peak alertness.

Then she'd had to sneak out, risking exposure, just to buy rags like some kind of criminal.

Then —Captain Jaeger. 

Of all people. She could’ve bumped into anyone, and it had to be him .

And not only had he seen her.

He had talked to her.

Flirted , even.

And her heart—traitorous and insubordinate—had answered every word with a flutter she couldn’t control.

Then she’d had to run back like a fugitive, weaving past guards and patrols like a soldier from the enemy camp, praying not to be caught.

One wrong turn, and she would've been done.

Punished for trespassing. 

Or worse —discovered and then the death penalty.

Her identity was hanging by a thread and honestly, her sanity, too.

And now?

She was exhausted. 

Physically, mentally, emotionally.

The cramps had returned in full, rolling through her stomach in waves. Her lower back ached. Her muscles were sore from running. And her mind? A tangled mess of worry, guilt, and one damn annoying voice she couldn’t shut out.

And just then, she felt it.

Her period started.

She groaned into her bedroll again.

This was hell.

 Actual living hell .

The cabin was warm, thick with the scent of smoked meat, firewood, and faintly brewed tea. The table was already half-filled with soldiers—well, three of them—lounging in their seats with bowls of hot stew in front of them, steam curling into the air.

Armin was halfway through his second bite when the door creaked open.

Connie turned at the sound. Jean looked up from his mug. Armin paused mid-chew, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Captain Eren Jaeger stepped inside.

And he was smiling .

Not the tight-lipped, politely professional curve of his mouth they were used to. Not the wry smirk he sometimes gave after winning a spar or pulling off a successful operation.

No—this smile was soft, unfocused, almost... dreamy .

The three Lieutenants froze.

Armin's eyebrows immediately furrowed in suspicion because he had only seen that smile once, years ago. 

Jean leaned in slightly, squinting. “Is he… okay?”

Connie whispered under his breath, “Why does he look like he just had been promoted to General of the Army?”

No. It wasn’t that kind of smile, Armin knew that smile too well to know it wasn’t something about the military or sorts.

They all watched as Eren walked toward them like he wasn’t quite present in his own body, his eyes distant, the corners of his lips still faintly curled. He moved on instinct, boots thudding softly against the wooden floor as he neared the center of the room.

At the table’s far end, seated beside the hearth, the village mayor glanced up from his own bowl of porridge and chuckled, unaware of the sudden silence that had settled among the soldiers.

“Ah, Captain Jaeger!” the mayor greeted warmly, raising his mug. “Come, come in—have you eaten yet?”

That question seemed to snap Eren back into reality.

The smile vanished in a blink, replaced by the familiar furrow of his brows, that heavy weight he always seemed to carry behind his eyes. His body stiffened, and he straightened to full height, hands resting behind his back in that habitual military posture.

His voice came back low, cool, calm. “The people of this village should eat first,” he replied. “Then my men. If there’s any left after that, then I’ll eat.”

Jean gave a small, knowing snort. “There he is.”

Armin smiled into his cup, not even trying to hide it.

Connie grinned. “Classic Captain.”

The mayor blinked, then laughed heartily. “That’s noble of you, but unnecessary this time! Your hunting party last night caught more game than we’ve seen in a whole season! You’ll all eat well tonight—and the village, weeks to come!”

He patted the chair beside him, gesturing at the steaming bowl waiting there. “Sit, Captain. That one’s for you. You’ve earned it more than anyone.”

Eren hesitated. His eyes flicked briefly toward his three Lieutenants—who were all watching him a little too closely, and then toward the empty chair.

He finally gave a curt nod, stepping forward with grace, but no fanfare. His hand reached for the bowl, and his voice—steady once more—thanked the mayor.

But as he took his seat, Armin leaned forward just slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a knowing smirk.

“Everything alright, Captain?” he asked innocently, eyes sharp.

Eren glanced at him, then at Jean and Connie, both of whom were obviously pretending not to watch him like hawks.

“Yep,” Eren said shortly.

Jean propped his elbow on the table, prodding further. “You sure ? You walked in here like a guy who just got kissed or something .”

Connie nearly choked on his stew from laughter. “Or saw someone he wanted to kiss.”

Armin narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He thought the same.

Eren stared at all three of them, face unreadable, though the faintest flicker of red crept along the tips of his ears.

“Eat your food,” he muttered.

Connie grinned. “He did see someone.”