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.