You had barely registered the blur of movement before your back hit the ground with a thud. Dust rose around you in a lazy cloud, and the sky loomed overhead, blinding and merciless with its midday sun. You squinted, chest heaving, your pride a little bruised, your body aching more from frustration than pain.

Mikasa had done it again.

Even now, after all the training you'd both endured, you still couldn’t land a proper hit on her. She was always one step ahead, silent, focused, immovable. Like a storm held together by discipline and will. You'd heard the others whisper about her in awe: how she never tired, never faltered, never lost. But to you, she was more than a prodigy. She was your protector, your shadow, your oldest memory.

You didn’t hear her footsteps. You only noticed her presence when the sun’s harsh light vanished. Blinking, your eyes adjusted to her silhouette. Mikasa stood above you, her short black hair damp with sweat, the edges of her scarf fluttering in the warm breeze. Beads of sweat slid down the contours of her abs, catching the sunlight like tiny stars. She looked down at you – not with pride or amusement, but with quiet concern.

“I didn’t mean to knock you down that hard,” she said, her voice as steady as ever, but softer than usual.

You said nothing, still catching your breath.

Mikasa knelt beside you, her dark eyes scanning your face for signs of pain. She wasn’t one to fuss in front of others, but when it came to you… everything changed. Since that day long ago, since she’d lost everything and you had saved her, she had never let you fall alone. She followed you into the Scouts not because she believed in the cause, but because she believed in you.

“I held back,” she added, almost guiltily.

You looked at her, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.