The air crackled with unease as graduation loomed. The recruits moved through drills like specters, their laughter strained, their camaraderie fraying under the weight of impending choices. For most, the decision between the Military Police's safety and the Survey Corps' carnage was paralyzing. But not for me. My path had been carved into my soul the moment I woke in this body. Every breath, every heartbeat, every swing of my blades was for him.
Mikasa's POV:
Eren stood at the center of the training field, his ODM gear strapped tightly to his frame, his eyes blazing with the familiar fire that both thrilled and terrified me. The instructors had designed a brutal final drill—a simulated Titan onslaught using weighted dummies rigged to swing erratically, mimicking the unpredictable horror of a real attack. The goal was simple: survive, strike the napes, and regroup. But failure here meant more than a scolding—it meant a stark preview of the death awaiting us beyond the walls.
I watched him, as I always did. His every movement was etched into my mind—the way his shoulders tensed before a strike, the slight hitch in his breath when he overextended, the sweat-dampened hair clinging to his neck. My fingers twitched, phantom impulses urging me to step in, to correct his stance, to shield him from imagined threats. But I held back. Let him prove himself. Let him shine.
Yet when the whistle blew and he launched himself into the chaos, my body moved before my mind could restrain it.
"Left flank—now!" I barked, my voice cutting through the din as a dummy lurched toward him. He pivoted, blades flashing, severing the nape with a grunt of effort. His eyes met mine briefly—gratitude, frustration, confusion—before he surged forward.
I shadowed him, a silent guardian. My strikes were precise, my movements efficient, but my focus never wavered from him. When a dummy's weighted arm swung too close, I intercepted it, my blade burying itself in the wood inches from his shoulder.
"I had it!" he snapped, though his trembling hands betrayed the lie.
"I know," I replied, pulling my blade free. But I couldn't risk it.
The drill ended with Eren's squad scoring the highest kills. But as the others celebrated, Armin lingered beside me, his gaze heavy with unspoken concern.
"You're pushing him," he murmured. "And yourself."
"He needs to be ready," I said, sharpening my blades with methodical strokes.
"Ready for what, exactly?"
The question hung in the air. I didn't answer. For the Rumbling. For betrayal. For the moment he'll need me most.
The Undertone: Graduation's Shadow
That evening, the mess hall buzzed with tense whispers.
Jean slumped at a corner table, picking at his food. His eyes flicked to me, then away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "She's obsessed," he muttered to Marco. "Jaeger's gonna get her killed."
Connie and Sasha huddled nearby, their usual banter subdued. "What if we're not good enough for the MPs?" Connie fretted. "What if we end up… you know… Titan chow?"
Reiner observed it all, his expression unreadable. When his gaze met mine, it was calculating, probing. Assessing a threat.
Annie, sharpening her blades in silence, caught my eye. For a fleeting moment, her icy detachment wavered—a flicker of something like recognition. She knows. She sees the cracks in my facade.
The Breaking Point
Days later, during a nighttime patrol drill, the instructors ambushed us with a surprise attack—smoke bombs, flares, and deafening roars meant to mimic a Titan horde. Panic erupted. Recruits scattered, their training dissolving into chaos.
Eren charged ahead, as always.
"Eren, wait—!" Armin's plea was swallowed by the din.
I followed, my pulse a frantic drumbeat. Through the smoke, I glimpsed him—cornered by three instructor-controlled dummies, their movements viciously realistic. His gas canister hissed, empty.
Time slowed.
My body moved on instinct. I fired my anchors, hurling myself into the fray. Blades flashed. Wood splintered. One dummy fell, then another. The third lunged—
"MIKASA!"
Eren's scream tore through me as the dummy's weighted fist collided with my ribs. I hit the ground, pain radiating through my side, but rolled to my feet, slicing the final nape with a snarl.
Silence fell.
The instructors emerged, flashlights illuminating the scene. Eren stood frozen, chest heaving, eyes wide. "Why did you—? I could've handled it!"
"No," I said quietly, wiping blood from my lip. "You couldn't."
His fists clenched. For a heartbeat, I thought he'd argue. Instead, he turned away, shame and anger warring in his eyes.
The Reflection: A Fangirl's Ghost
That night, I slipped into the forest, seeking solitude. The moon cast long shadows over the trees, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. My ribs ached, a tangible reminder of my recklessness.
What am I doing?
The question echoed in the hollows of my mind. In my past life, I'd daydreamed about being Mikasa—strong, devoted, eternally by Eren's side. Now, I was her, and the reality was a gilded cage. Every glance, every touch, every sacrifice was both a privilege and a torment.
"You're losing yourself," a voice whispered—the ghost of the girl I'd once been. "Is this love? Or madness?"
I clutched the red scarf at my throat—Eren's scarf—and let the fabric's roughness ground me. It doesn't matter. He's worth every fracture in my soul.
"Love is madness."
The Calm Before
Graduation arrived like a executioner's axe.
As we stood in ranks, Shadis read the final scores. "Top of the class: Mikasa Ackerman."
No one cheered. The recruits' stares were a mix of awe and unease. Eren stood rigid beside me, his jaw tight.
Later, as dusk painted the barracks in shades of gold and grief, he found me.
"You didn't have to save me," he said, voice low. "I'm not a child."
"I know," I replied.
"Then why?"
The truth lodged in my throat. Because I've seen you die. Because I can't lose you again. Because without you, I'm nothing.
"You're important," I said instead.
He stared at me, searching for answers I couldn't give. Then, hesitantly, he reached out, his calloused fingers brushing mine. "Just… don't get yourself killed for me, okay?"
The contact sent a jolt through me. Too much. Not enough.
"I can't promise that," I whispered.
His hand fell away.
The Storm Approaches
That night, as the recruits packed their belongings, a horn blared—a sound none of us had heard before.
"EMERGENCY!" an instructor roared. "Wall Rose has been breached! All cadets—prepare for deployment!"
The world tilted.
It's too soon.
Eren's eyes met mine across the barracks, wide with shock, then hardened with resolve.
Trost. It's starting.
And as chaos erupted, I felt it—the cold, familiar certainty.
This is where I prove myself.
I tightened my scarf and reached for my blades.
"Love is madness."