Walking beside Eren towards the training grounds felt surreal. The crisp morning air bit at my cheeks (Mikasa's cheeks, I reminded myself), a stark contrast to the stale air of the barracks. Eren strode forward with that characteristic intensity, jaw set, eyes fixed ahead. He radiated a furious energy, a burning desire for vengeance that I, as a fan, had always admired from afar. Now, being this close, it was almost overwhelming. It vibrated in the air around him.
Armin trotted slightly behind us, his smaller frame seeming even more fragile next to Eren's focused presence and my own newfound height and strength. His blue eyes, wide and intelligent, darted around, taking everything in, a hint of apprehension clear on his face. My heart softened towards him instantly. He was the brain, the strategist, Eren's vital anchor to reason. Protecting Eren meant protecting Armin with nearly equal fervor. They were the sun and moon of my new, self-appointed orbit.
"Are you nervous, Mikasa?" Armin asked, his voice quiet, almost lost in the shuffling footsteps of dozens of other recruits converging on the dusty field.
Before I could formulate a response that sounded appropriately Mikasa-like (stoic, probably?), Eren scoffed beside me. "Nervous? Why would she be nervous? She's probably stronger than half the instructors already."
A thrill went through me at his words, even though they were directed at a version of Mikasa I despised. He acknowledged her strength. My strength, now. But his casual dismissal of potential fear… it was so Eren. So focused on the fight, on tangible power.
I kept my voice even, adopting the quiet tone from earlier. "Everyone should feel some nervousness, Eren. It means we understand the stakes." It sounded vaguely profound, something Armin might say, but delivered with Mikasa's calm demeanor. Maybe. I was winging it.
Eren just grunted again, unconvinced.
We reached the edge of the large, packed-earth field where recruits were milling about, looking varying degrees of terrified, uncertain, and overly confident. And then I saw him.
Jean Kirschtein.
He was taller than I expected, lanky, with that two-toned hair and annoyingly smug look on his face even now, before he'd even proven anything. He was chatting animatedly with Marco Bodt – poor, doomed Marco. My gaze lingered on Marco for a second with a pang of sadness derived from foreknowledge, but it snapped back to Jean with renewed venom.
This was him. The man who dared. The man who took what should have been eternally Eren's. The man who represented the ultimate failure of the Mikasa I now inhabited. He looked so… ordinary. So utterly undeserving. How could she have chosen this over the memory of Eren Jaeger? The disrespect was a physical ache in my chest.
As if summoned by my hatred, Jean's eyes scanned the crowd and landed on us. Specifically, on me. A slow, appreciative smirk spread across his face. Oh, I remembered this part from the anime. His instant crush. It was repulsive.
He sauntered over, Marco trailing hesitantly behind him. "Well, well," Jean began, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made my skin crawl. "Didn't know they let goddesses enlist." He focused on my (Mikasa's) long black hair. "Seriously, though. Haven't seen hair that beautiful outside the Interior."
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. The urge to use Mikasa's prodigious strength to rearrange his face was almost overpowering. Goddess? Beautiful hair? Was that all he saw? He didn't see the warrior, the survivor, the one devoted to Eren? Of course not. He just saw a pretty face. Shallow. Just like his future actions proved him to be.
Eren bristled instantly, stepping slightly in front of me, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "What do you want, horse-face?"
Jean's smirk tightened into a sneer. "Just admiring the scenery, suicidal maniac. Some of us plan on joining the MP and actually living. Maybe she should too, instead of following you to an early grave."
The absolute audacity. Suggesting I leave Eren? Suggesting the Military Police? The coward's route?
Before Eren could explode – and he looked seconds away from it – I stepped forward, positioning myself firmly at Eren's side. My grey eyes, which felt unnervingly calm despite the inferno raging inside me, met Jean's. I kept my face utterly blank, channeling every bit of disdain I felt into a glacial stare.
"I am here to fight Titans," I stated, my voice flat, cold, and devoid of any emotion. "With Eren. Where he goes, I go. Your opinion is irrelevant."
The silence that followed was thick. Jean looked taken aback, his smugness faltering. Even Eren seemed slightly surprised by the sharp finality in my tone. It was perhaps harsher, more definitive than the original Mikasa might have been at this stage, but it felt right. It established boundaries. It declared my allegiance unequivocally.
Marco shifted awkwardly. "Uh, Jean, maybe we should—"
"TEN-HUT!"
The bellowed command ripped through the air, instantly silencing all chatter. Every recruit snapped into some semblance of attention. My body reacted almost instinctively, spine straightening, heels clicking together, arms rigid at my sides. It was the Ackerman blood, I supposed, responding to military discipline.
Keith Shadis strode before us, his bald head gleaming, his eyes seeming to pierce through each and every one of us. The sheer intimidation factor radiating from him was palpable, far more intense than any screen could convey. The fear I'd dismissed earlier prickled at the back of my neck, but it was overlaid with a strange sense of… anticipation. This was it. The legendary rite of passage.
Shadis began his terrifying march down the lines, his voice echoing as he verbally dismantled recruit after recruit. I watched him tear down a terrified boy, grill Sasha Braus about her stolen potato (part of me wanted to giggle, remembering the scene, but I ruthlessly suppressed it), and intimidate Connie Springer.
My mind raced. How should I act when he reached me? Mikasa was exceptional. She passed without comment in the original timeline, deemed already proficient. Should I replicate that? Or should I show something more? Show my utter devotion to Eren? No, best stick to the script for now. Draw too much attention, and I risk altering things I don't understand yet. My priority was Eren. Blending in, while being flawlessly competent, was the safest path for now.
Shadis stopped in front of Armin. My protective instincts flared. I held my breath as Shadis loomed over him, demanding his name and purpose. Armin, bless his terrified heart, squeaked out his name and his desire to be useful to humanity. Shadis mocked his name and his perceived weakness, but ultimately, let him pass. I released the breath I hadn't realised I was holding.
Then, Shadis was in front of Eren. The air crackled. This was a pivotal moment. Eren's defiant declaration of wanting to kill all Titans. I watched, my heart pounding, as Eren met Shadis's glare head-on, spitting out his hatred for the Titans, his voice raw with the trauma of Shiganshina. It was magnificent. Terrifying, but magnificent. This fire was what I adored. This was the Eren I would protect.
Shadis moved on from Eren, seemingly satisfied or perhaps just moving to the next target. His gaze swept past me, lingering for only a fraction of a second. He didn't stop. He didn't speak. Just like in the show. He assessed me, saw the capability, the focus (or what he perceived as focus – it was really just my laser-beam concentration on Eren and my hatred for Jean), and moved on.
Relief washed over me, quickly followed by a surge of determination. I did it. Passed the first test. Blended in. But inside, the fire stoked by Jean's idiocy and Eren's passion burned hotter.
I am Mikasa Ackerman now, I reaffirmed silently, standing ramrod straight as Shadis continued his reign of terror down the line. And I will be better. Stronger. More devoted. Eren will have the unwavering support he needs. He won't face the future alone. And Jean Kirschtein won't get anywhere near him. Or me.
My eyes flickered sideways, catching Eren's profile. He was watching Shadis, his expression fierce, resolute. He was ready to fight the world.
And this time, he'd have a Mikasa who would fight it right alongside him, no matter the cost, and who would never settle for anything less.