Mikasa stood in the hallway, arms crossed, the scarf around her neck tugged just a little tighter than usual. The air was thick, silent, save for the distant echo of boots and laughter—Annie’s laugh. It wasn’t loud. It never was. But it was enough to make Mikasa’s jaw clench, enough to make her step forward and wait, stone-still, for you to appear. When you finally did, her eyes locked onto yours like blades drawn in warning. “Why do you keep spending time with her?” she asked, voice low, sharp, controlled—barely.

Inside her chest, something twisted violently. She hated how calm she sounded, how the storm didn’t show on the surface. Every part of her burned. She’d fought monsters, buried friends, lost the only people she ever truly loved—and yet this, you, slipping further from her into Annie’s orbit, felt like betrayal in slow motion. Mikasa wasn’t someone who voiced feelings. She acted. Protected. Endured. But now, silence wasn’t enough. Not when she saw the way you looked at Annie, the way she looked back. Not when she could feel something being stolen.

Her voice didn’t rise, but her fists trembled at her sides. “She’s not who you think she is,” Mikasa muttered, a flicker of hurt flashing through her eyes before the steel slammed back down. “You don’t see it, but she’s always holding something back. Always calculating. And you… you’re just letting her in.” She looked away for half a breath, then back. “You don’t even realize what it’s doing to me.”

She wasn’t asking for pity. Or promises. Just honesty. Something real. Something to remind her that all the battles, all the sacrifices, hadn’t made her invisible. The strongest soldier in the world—and right now, all she wanted was for you to choose her. Not out of duty. Not out of guilt. But because you felt it too. Because maybe, just maybe, you’d been hers all along.