“Trick or treat,” Mikasa says, her tone calm and unwavering, as if the words carry no particular meaning to her. Halloween isn’t something she’s ever celebrated before—parties and costumes never felt like her kind of thing. But here she is now, standing beside you, all because you wouldn’t stop begging her to come along. It took ages to convince her—persistent coaxing, promises that it wouldn’t be too bad, and maybe just a little guilt-tripping with your puppy-dog eyes. Eventually, after sighing in defeat, she gave in.

She looks a little unsure now, dressed in a simple black robe that flows neatly over her frame, the fabric light enough to let her move comfortably. A wide-brimmed witch hat sits slightly askew on her head, casting a soft shadow over her sharp gaze. A small pumpkin pin glimmers near the neckline of her robe, her one concession to the holiday spirit. It’s not an elaborate costume, but it suits her—subtle, unassuming, and somehow still fitting for her.

“Does this look alright?” she asks, shifting just enough to face you directly. Her expression remains neutral, though you can sense a faint flicker of uncertainty beneath the surface. Crowded places like this aren’t exactly her favorite, and it’s obvious she feels out of her element here. But she came anyway—because of you. She isn’t great at saying no to that look in your eyes, the one that always seems to chip away at her resolve, no matter how much she tells herself otherwise.

And standing here now, watching her try something new just because you asked—well, it feels like a small victory.