Chapter Text
Shiganshina University stretches out before you like a tapestry of new beginnings. The air here tastes different. Not better, not worse, just unfamiliar, and that was the whole point. With your suitcase in one hand and a folded campus map in the other, you take a steadying breath. The sprawling lawns, the towering red-brick buildings, and the hum of student chatter all feel foreign yet oddly comforting.
This isnt't home; it's not meant to be. Home is two hours away, a place you've deliberately left behind. This university wasn't your top pick academically, but it was far enough from the stifling familiarity of your hometown.
The campus is alive with movement as students weave through pathways, arms weighed down with boxes and suitcases, voices overlapping in a steady hum of excitement and nervous anticipation. Families hover around them, offering last-minute advice, snapping photos, and double-checking schedules. Everywhere you look, parents are heaving heavy suitcases into dorms, older siblings playfully arguing over who carried what, and friends reuniting with loud, excited shrieks.
You shift the weight of your own suitcase, watching as a girl hands hers off to her dad with an exasperated sigh, only for him to take it without complaint. Your chest tightens at the sight, a dull ache settling in your stomach. No one was here to help you. No dad to carry your bags when they got too heavy, no mom fussing over your dorm setup, no one reminding you to call once you you're settled in. Just you, standing alone in the middle of it all.
You sigh again, pushing the feeling down as best you could. This is what you wanted after all, to be independent, to start fresh. But in moments like this, surrounded by the comforting chaos of other people's families, it's hard not to feel the burden of your solitude.
Still, you straighten your shoulders, forcing a small smile as you tug your suitcase forward. You're here now. And whether you like it or not, it's time to figure things out on your own.
Pushing any and all thoughts aside, you navigate your way to Hall Maria, the dormitory you've been assigned. It's nice, not exactly picturesque but definitely better than Hall Rose or Sina. The building stands tall, its brick façade blending with the rest of campus, a modest testament to function over aesthetics.
Inside, the walls smell faintly of industrial cleaner, the sterile scent settling uncomfortably in your stomach. But hey, it may also be the nerves that have been settled in there for days. You made your way to the first floor, dragging your suitcase along the floor until you reach Room 110F.
This is it. Your new home.
The door creaks slightly as you open it, revealing a somewhat stylish open-floor dorm. It was quite quaint but doable—two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living area, a small kitchen that has clearly been designed for students who never cook, and a single window overlooking a patch of lawn outside. The area is neat, untouched, with no sign of a roommate. Your eyes scan the space, taking it all in. For a fleeting moment, you feel relief. Maybe being alone for a little while will make this transition easier.
Unpacking feels more like ritual than necessity. You move on autopilot, placing books on the shelf and hanging clothes in the wardrobe. You don't have much, but everything now has its own place. The familiar ache of displacement tugs at your chest as you work, but you push it down, focusing on making the room yours.
A framed photograph of your father goes on the nightstand. It's a candid shot of him laughing, his arm slung over your shoulders during a long-ago family barbecue. His joy was infectious, even frozen in time. Your thumb brushes the edge of the frame as a wave of emotion threatens to rise. Quickly, you place it face down. Looking at it is too much for now.
The soft creak of the bed frame fills the silence as you sit down, your eyes drifting around the space. It doesn't feel real. Instead, it gives you a dull sense of dissatisfaction, making you irritated. You're supposed to feel relief, right? You've convinced yourself that coming here will instantly piece you back together, but just like always, there's this feeling that something's missing. You exhale, leaning back on your hands, letting the unfamiliarity settle in.
You hear a loud knock on your bedroom door, breaking your reverie. You turn, heart racing, to find a bright-eyed girl with freckles and auburn hair, grinning ear to ear. You must not have heard her come in.
"Hey! You must be my roommate!" The girl bounds into the room, lugging a duffel bag that looks like it weighs more than she does. "I'm Sasha! Sasha Braus. And you're—?"
You introduce yourself, your voice measured and polite. Sasha, on the other hand, is a whirlwind of energy. She plops down on your bare bed, crossing her legs like she belongs here. She throws out snippets of information about herself: her love of food, her excitement about being on her own, and her absolute disdain for mornings. You're kind of thankful you don't have much opportunity to get a word in.
"This place is awesome, right?" she asks. You make a questionable face which makes her chuckle. "Okay, the dorms are whatever, but did you see the dining hall? I'm telling you, the food here is unreal."
You nod, smiling despite yourself. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and for the first time since arriving, you feel a little less out of place. "Yeah, I actually just came here for the dining hall facilities. Best in Shiganshina," you say dryly, earning a laugh from her.
"Oh, you're funny. Good! I knew we'd get along." She ponders for a moment before asking, "you're not from Shiganshina?"
You hesitate for a moment, caught off guard. "Oh, uh, no. I live about two hours away, in Stohess."
"Woah, that's quite far! It's not often you find outsiders at this university." You pray she drops the subject, and before you know it, she's back to talking about the dining hall.
She talks a mile a minute, her energy filling the room. As much as you braced yourself for the awkwardness of meeting a stranger you'd have to share a living space with, Sasha was surprisingly easy to be around. Her excitement, though a bit overwhelming, is genuine.
"You're gonna love it here," she says, eyes eagerly scanning your half-put-together room. You glance around the space, noting how sparse and incomplete it still feels, your suitcase half-unpacked, the desk missing its finishing touches. A small smile tugs at your lips as you wonder if she might be right. Maybe you will love it here.
She continues. "The campus is gorgeous, the people are nice, and oh, the parties?"
"The campus definitely has its charm," you reply, your tone light but reserved. "As for the parties... I guess I'll take your word for it."
"Oh, I know!" Sasha suddenly sits up straighter, her eyes sparkling. You watch her with a mix of amusement and apprehension, her boundless enthusiasm catching you off guard. "You should meet all my friends! One of them is throwing a party tomorrow night, a sort of 'welcome back' thing before classes start next week, you should definitely come!"
Her thrill over the party isn't unexpected, but you haven't exactly been thinking that far ahead. Still, the idea wasn't unwelcome. A party sounds like the perfect distraction, a way to throw yourself into this new life without overthinking every step.
"Sure," you grin, the answer coming easier than expected. "I'll come."
"Awesome! You'll love everyone. They're a good group, I promise. You can even meet my best friend Connie, he's hilarious. There's also Jean. And Reiner, oh, and Bertholdt. They're best friends, and they're super chill. Plus, Armin and Mikasa will for sure show up too," She ponders for a moment. "I feel like I'm missing some people but you get the gist."
You don't know who any of these people were yet, but Sasha's easy confidence makes you believe you'll get along with them just fine.
"Great," you say, closing your suitcase and setting it aside. "I could use a night out."
"Perfect!" Sasha gleams, hopping off your bed and heading for the door. "I'm starving, so I'm gonna grab some food and then start unpacking, but I'll fill you in on all the details later."
You nod, and just like that, she's gone, leaving the room feeling quieter than before. You stand there for a moment, processing the utter whirlwind that is Sasha Braus. If nothing else, you can see why she has so many friends.
You wander into the common area of the dorm, taking in your surroundings. The muted hum of voices filter through the walls as other students settle into their rooms. The sunlight streaming through the single window catches on the faint sheen of industrial wax on the floors. Everything about this place feels transitional, like it's meant to be lived in but not quite lived with.
You spend the next few hours steadily unpacking and decorating, and by late afternoon, you find yourself wandering the campus alone. The weather is crisp, a gentle breeze rustling the trees that line the walkways. The university's charm is undeniable, the architecture a mix of old-world elegance and modern functionality. Students lounge on the grass—some with books, others deep in conversation. You envy their ease, their sense of belonging.
Your thoughts drift back to your decision to come here. The memory of your mother's parting words resurfacing: a clipped "Good luck" devoid of warmth or encouragement. She didn't even look up from her phone when you left.
The truth is, you didn't chose Shiganshina for its academics or its campus. You chose it because it was far away enough to feel like a clean slate, but close enough to return to if needed. Not that you plan to.
Sasha's words come back to you as you walk—her invitation to the party tomorrow night. Maybe it's exactly what you need—a distraction, a way to dive into this new life without thinking too much about what you had left behind.
After a while, you make your way back to the dorm. Sasha's in the kitchen, unpacking what looks like an entire pantry's worth of snacks. She greets you with the same bright smile and launches into a story about how she once mistook a faculty member for a student during orientation week.
"I told him his haircut screamed 'freshman,' and then I offered to show him around campus," she giggles while unwrapping a candy bar. "He let me go on for a solid five minutes before casually mentioning he was my ethics professor. I've never backtracked so fast in my life! It's not my fault he was basically shorter than me." Her laughter echoes through the room, contagious and impossible not to mimic. It fills the space with an infectious warmth that makes it feel a little more like home.
By the time the sun sets, the dorm feels more like a place you can live in, even if it isn't quite home. You sit on your bed, the photograph of your father still facedown on the desk. Tomorrow will bring new stories, new faces, and maybe even new beginnings. For now, though, you let yourself breathe, the steady rhythm of your heart a quiet reminder that you're here and that you had made it.
And that has to be enough.